Chapter 86, Norman's Road to Recovery
The sky above Suwon Baseball Stadium hung low.
The stadium lights gave off a glow that was neither completely bright nor completely dark.
Wright was starting the first game of the series between the Busan Oceans and Suwon Rangers.
Today, I was batting second as the designated hitter.
My shoulder was getting the rest it deserved, while my eyes, arms, and legs were ready to hit.
In the top of the first, leadoff hitter Kwon Geon-woo swung at the first pitch and was easily retired.
I stepped into the batter's box and lightly raised my bat.
Rangers starter Han Do-yoon opened with an outside four-seam fastball.
Strike.
The second pitch was a low two-seam.
I fouled it off.
The count was 0-2.
I steadied my breathing and relaxed my body.
After that, everything happened almost unconsciously.
Slider, foul.
Changeup, foul.
Four-seam, foul.
Cutter, foul.
The crowd's breathing sounded almost rhythmic.
Keep going.
A voice inside me spoke.
On the twelfth pitch, a high fastball arrived a little late.
Another foul.
On the thirteenth, a two-seam moved a hand's width inside.
I turned only my wrists and sent a line drive toward left field.
It dropped cleanly in front of the left fielder for a single.
“Nice!”
The dugout came alive after the hit I had earned through such a long battle.
However, Go Gyeong-tae hit a lineout, and Yoon Jae-jun struck out looking.
The inning ended.
The Rangers bench celebrated quietly, bumping their fists together.
The score remained 0-0 through the top of the fourth.
In my second plate appearance, I waited for a first-pitch slider and pushed it the other way, swinging half a beat late.
Single to right.
Our offense was finally getting started.
During Yoon Jae-jun's plate appearance, with two balls and one strike, a two-seam stayed high.
Yoon Jae-jun shortened his grip and hit a single up the middle.
The score was 1-0.
We had scored first.
But our happiness did not last long.
In the bottom of the fourth, the Rangers' fifth hitter lightly pushed an outside four-seam into left-center.
After a sacrifice bunt, a ground ball past the shortstop brought home the tying run.
1-1.
The Suwon Rangers had relatively few fans because they were the tenth club to join professional Korean baseball.
Gentle applause spread through the stands.
Suwon Rangers manager Bae Seong-yoon leaned toward his head coach.
“Did you see that hit? Choi Seong doesn't have any openings before or after making contact.”
“His balance is perfect. Even on low pitches, his upper body doesn't collapse.”
Manager Bae Seong-yoon gave a short whistle.
“Good. We're rebuilding this season anyway. Our parent company isn't supporting us either. Still, we need to play spoiler. We should at least beat the first-place team before they leave.”
He turned over his strategy board.
“Use one-point relievers aggressively. Starting next inning, walk Choi Seong every time. We'll challenge the other hitters.”
The game remained as tightly balanced as a compressed spring.
Wright held the Rangers to one run through seven innings.
Meanwhile, the Rangers' relievers used one-point appearances to shut down our left-handed hitters.
The score was still 1-1 at the end of the eighth.
A small screen beside the scoreboard displayed another game's score.
The Seoul Triples were leading the Seoul Magicians 9-0.
This one game could change the weight of first place.
I carefully stored that sentence in my mind.
It had started with my plate appearance in the top of the seventh.
The Suwon Rangers finally carried out their decision.
Ball four.
I walked to first.
Two pickoff attempts followed.
The next hitters swung through empty air.
Foul.
Foul.
Fly ball.
In the bottom of the ninth, our bullpen allowed two hitters to reach base.
But our infield defense prevented them from scoring.
Top of the tenth.
It was my turn again, but the opposing coaches refused to give me an opportunity.
Boos came from the crowd.
I simply nodded.
“It's fine. The team just needs to score.”
Even after the bottom of the tenth, the score had not changed.
Then came the eleventh.
The scoreboard stubbornly continued showing 1-1.
Park Hyeong-hwan, the eighth hitter, attacked the pitcher's first pitch and singled to left.
The ninth hitter, Kwon Seon-ho, laid down a bunt, creating a perfect opportunity with one out and a runner on second.
Leadoff hitter Kwon Geon-woo reached base after being hit by a pitch following a full-count battle.
Two outs, bases loaded.
The atmosphere grew heavy.
The Suwon Rangers dugout became busy.
But there was probably nothing they could do.
They had to face me somehow.
If they refused to challenge me, their team would lose.
It was already 1-1.
What more could they hope for?
I stepped into the batter's box.
The pitcher was Son Jae-ha, a rookie right-hander.
His fingers were thin, and his pitches had sharp movement near the plate.
First pitch.
A low changeup moved slightly.
Ball.
Second pitch.
Outside four-seam.
Foul.
Third pitch.
An inside cutter.
I kept my upper body from opening and moved only my hands.
Foul.
The count became two strikes and one ball.
The pitcher stared at the catcher's mitt for a long time.
Then he finally nodded.
130 km/h.
The slider dropped extremely low.
Under normal circumstances, it was an impossible pitch to hit.
But I decided to gamble today's game on that awkward breaking ball.
If I failed, the opportunity might disappear.
Still, my instincts told me I would not receive another pitch this good.
I planted my left foot half a beat late and transferred my weight.
Crack!
The sound of the bat and ball meeting, then separating.
The ball shot to the left of the second baseman, cutting through the grass like a clothesline.
The runner on third came home.
The runner on second followed him.
Before the outfielder's throw could even reach the catcher's mitt, our entire bench had already poured onto the field.
3-1.
We had finally scored two precious runs in the top of the eleventh.
I calmly celebrated toward my teammates and reached second.
Helmets flew into the air, and water bottles exploded like fireworks.
Yoon Jae-jun shouted excitedly.
“Are we taking first place again?”
Wright removed his cap and waved it.
“Thanks, Choi Seong. My pitching wasn't wasted after all.”
The game ended with that score.
The Suwon Rangers, who had already lost their momentum, could not score any additional runs.
I was named the game's MVP.
In front of the award ceremony area, an interview microphone was raised toward my mouth.
“Please tell us how you feel about today's performance.”
“It's simple. The team held on because we wanted to win, and I wanted to be one of the people supporting that effort. The Rangers played excellent baseball today. If there had been another inning, it would've been difficult for us again.”
In the opposing dugout, Manager Bae Seong-yoon looked toward our side and applauded.
The camera captured his mouth as he spoke.
“You can't beat that. At least not today.”
His head coach asked,
“What about Games 2 and 3?”
Bae Seong-yoon's eyes flashed.
“We'll get our revenge. We'll use our one-point relievers more carefully and make our defensive shifts more aggressive. But in the end, we'll challenge them head-on too.”
I slowed down briefly in the passage leading to the locker room.
