Countryside Ace

Chapter 13 : Coaching (3)

Coaching (3)

"A rookie needs to have that kind of flavor."

Watching Seo Ye-sung fearlessly paint the center of the zone against a batter who had hit two doubles in his first game, Song Moon-jung, the head coach, looked a little more at ease.

If watching Porter's pitching had felt like a weight being lifted, this time it was Seo Ye-sung's pitching that involuntarily brought a faint smile to his face.

A rookie is supposed to be brimming with spirit.

It's no good if a rookie gets scared and just keeps throwing breaking balls outside the zone.

There's no written rule anywhere, but Song Moon-jung's always been old-fashioned.

Even when facing a batter whose build seemed far better suited for American football than baseball, Seo Ye-sung didn't flinch in the slightest.

"Isn't it just that he missed his location and left it down the middle?"

"Don't insult my kid behind my back."

"He's my kid, though?"

"Tsk. What's the velocity?"

"152 km/h, apparently."

Perhaps wanting to further please the head coach, the second pitch was a 153 km/h four-seamer up in the zone, drawing a swing and a miss.

"Hehehe..."

"Coach."

"What, you punk?"

"How about we use him as a closer?"

"He's a starting candidate, isn't he?"

"Weren't you insisting on being strict?"

"Tch!"

The head coach covered Seo Tae-seung's mouth with his hand.

Their adorable rookie was getting set for his third pitch.

Watching that stable pitching form, he couldn't help but be pleased.

Unlike typical young pitchers who rely solely on strength, this one wasn't just throwing with brute force.

To have a lefty who could easily hit 150 km/h with that form—how could he not find it endearing?

Even if there were lots of young fastballers these days, Seo Ye-sung's pitching had plenty of charms beyond just top speed.

"Strike! Out!"

A pitch that had been racing inside toward the left-handed batter suddenly snapped in hard.

Expecting a four-seamer, the batter swung but lost the trajectory.

After a mere three pitches, the hitter swung and missed for a strikeout and glared at the pitcher, gritting his teeth.

"Got guts, yeah, he does. Even after watching that brute force swing, he just fires in a two-seamer on the hands. Hah!"

Just because a pitcher throws hard doesn't mean the pitch has great life.

Just as command includes the elements of control, command, and location.

Seo Ye-sung made an impression on the head coach after facing just one batter.

* * *

Yoon Bong-wan, during practice, had caught Graham Donald Porter's pitches himself and immediately thought this guy was going to be a massive success.

A two-pitch arsenal: four-seamer and changeup. But in Yoon Bong-wan's opinion, that was more than enough.

There'd been countless foreign pitchers who washed out of the KBO because they relied solely on a four-seamer, but there were few who had one this good.

If Porter managed to perfect his secondary pitches under Seo Tae-seung's tutelage, he probably wouldn't be in the KBO for long.

It'd only be a matter of time before he went back to the MLB.

So when Porter showed overwhelming stuff against the minor league all-star team, Yoon Bong-wan didn't bat an eye.

He seemed to be breathing a bit heavier than in training, but considering it was his first live outing, he'd only get better.

In contrast, Seo Ye-sung was different between practice and real games.

Not in a bad way, but in a very good way.

Pow!

"Strike!"

His command wasn't quite as sharp as in training.

The first pitch to the previous batter, and even the slider, had leaked further outside than the catcher had called for.

"Fuck."

The batter, who'd missed a pitch in the zone, clicked his tongue and cocked his head.

It was the same hitter who'd taken Jo Sung-gyu deep in the first game.

Not every pitcher throws the ball exactly where it's called.

That's just the way it is. It hardly ever comes in exactly on the glove.

'But his pitches weren't this heavy before, were they?'

He didn't look like a rookie who was overeager and over-tensing his body.

The splitter Jo Sung-gyu gave up for a home run earlier wasn't a complete mistake.

It didn't drop perfectly below the zone, but it wasn't a meatball down the middle either.

Even if Jo Sung-gyu was past his prime and now got called washed up, the pitch he gave up for a homer still had decent strength.

It was more that the batter had tons of strength.

But Seo Ye-sung's pitches were completely different.

Against this power-hitting batter, even if he just fired it down the middle, it felt like he wouldn't get it over the fence.

Fast, filthy at the end, and heavy.

This time, Yoon Bong-wan called for a four-seamer high and inside.

If it leaked a bit toward the middle, it could go for extra bases.

Seo Ye-sung nodded without hesitation.

Yoon Bong-wan liked this rookie.

He didn't give off the impression of a rookie who just blindly did as he was told.

You could see it in the expression.

This pitcher nodded quickly to Yoon Bong-wan's sign, and it felt like he understood why he was calling for that location.

'Of course, that's just the feeling I get...'

The batter, who'd gotten good wood on a dropping pitch in the last game, seemed to be waiting for another off-speed.

The pitcher didn't hesitate, immediately starting his windup.

Smoothly, unhurried at first.

Then explosively.

Pow!

"Strike!"

The batter swung well below the ball.

He'd been trying to sit on a breaking ball and had to hurry his swing at the last second.

When Yoon Bong-wan tossed the ball back and called for a changeup, Seo Ye-sung again went into his delivery right away.

'Oh.'

He would save his admiration for later.

The batter missed the timing to call time, and the pitcher, even with no runners on, went with a slide step instead of a windup (a motion used to deliver the pitch quickly).

That's usually something a pitcher does with runners on base to speed up the delivery.

For a high-school rookie to mess with the batter's timing like this?

Whoosh.

"Strike! Out!"

"Holy shit!"

A swing and a miss from a completely disrupted rhythm.

The batter seemed so frustrated by being toyed with he swore loudly.

'Even if it's just an exhibition, for a high-school rookie's first live action?'

Not only that, but he was considered a candidate for the starting rotation, and still showed no sign of nerves.

If he excelled, he might even make the Opening Day roster.

"Haaa."

Yoon Bong-wan couldn't help but laugh.

This kid was the real deal.

Even Jeon Soo-jae, who'd played on the same team back in the day and was now playing in the Majors, hadn't managed this as a rookie.

He glanced at the bench discreetly.

Is it true that "a tiger raises no feeble cubs"?

And next to Song Moon-jung, who was grinning ear-to-ear with fatherly pride, Seo Tae-seung was muttering,

"Where on earth did he learn tricks like that...?"

Hearing this, the head coach quickly changed his expression and said sternly,

"Didn't I tell you not to badmouth my kid earlier?"

"Once the league starts, you're going to hear a lot about 'Daddy Ball'."

"If anyone says anything about me, I'll say you put me up to it."

"If you're willing to be the puppet head coach, I'll accept the offer."

"Get lost, punk! I'm trying to watch some baseball here!"

* * *

After striking out two batters, the third one was retired on the first pitch—a pop fly to the second baseman.

They don't know what pitches I have, so I naturally have the advantage.

In the next inning, there would be three right-handed batters in a row, so it'd be a good chance to check my two-seamer.

"Sunbae, I'd like to test my two-seamer in the next inning."

"Really?"

After wrapping up the inning and stepping off the mound, Yoon Bong-wan put his arm around my shoulder with a broad grin.

"Your pitches are looking good. I think I'll be watching you for a long time."

"Thank you."

"Well, I haven't got many years left until retirement..."

"You should keep playing for ages, sir."

"My knees are already shot, punk!"

Yoon Bong-wan laughed heartily, slapping my back.

Anyway, my first inning was pretty solid.

My command wasn't exactly as I'd hoped, but I overpowered them with my stuff.

It's ideal when both command and pitch quality are on point, but there aren't many days like that.

If you've got at least one, you can generally get by for the day.

That's baseball.

Even though I'd pitched well, the dugout mood stayed subdued.

Byeong-ju shot me a hidden thumbs-up while pretending to look away, and a few teammates encouraged or complimented me, but things weren't rowdy.

I figured it was because it was the first game.

Jung Han-seung, who always looked after me, was throwing in the bullpen, and Jo Sung-gyu, who'd had a rough outing, looked distinctly downcast.

Several other pitchers hadn't looked so hot, either.

"Oh, my nephew! Uncle was all ready for a diving catch, but nothing came out to the outfield, huh?"

Kim Jae-beom, who was playing center field for this game, came running over and put me in a playful headlock.

"Want me to send one your way next inning?"

Kim Jae-beom laughed loudly and patted my shoulder.

Byeong-ju was jealous of this sort of thing.

He was envious that pro ballplayers, who he'd only ever seen on TV, were friendly only with me.

Of course, that wasn't always a good thing. It did create a bit of awkwardness.

Especially given the atmosphere of this team.

Young players were feeling intimidated and missing opportunities because veterans brought in on free agent deals were taking up all the chances.

In that environment, a rookie straight out of high school like me getting both opportunities and attention drew some uncomfortable looks.

Even before, many assumed I only got chances because of my father.

With a mix of light congratulations and complex glances, I toyed with the baseball.

I just wanted to play baseball, and now I could again.

I'd think about what came next later. For now, there was nothing else I could do.

* * *

Bottom of the fourth. The score was 0-0.

I climbed back onto the mound.

Three right-handed batters stood in a row, ready to face me.

Basically, for a lefty pitcher to handle right-handed hitters, he needs a pitch with reverse movement, so I prepared my two-seam fastball.

If I sacrificed a little velocity on my four-seamer for control, I could throw both a four-seamer and a two-seamer at similar speeds from the same motion.

And if a batter had a binary "four-seamer or two-seamer" in his head, mixing in a changeup with a velocity and movement differential would surely work on him—or so I believed.

If it didn't work in a real game, I'd have to think of a new repertoire, but for now, that was my plan.

Even though I'd said I wanted to focus on the two-seamer, Yoon Bong-wan sunbae signaled for a first-pitch four-seamer.

Inside and low to a righty.

Since I'd thrown mostly outside or high in the previous inning, it wasn't a bad choice to surprise him.

As soon as I nodded, Yoon Bong-wan moved lightly behind the plate.

I started my delivery just as usual.

It looks complicated, but once the complex motion is ingrained in your body, it becomes simple.

Pull, twist, release.

"Strike!"

The bat didn't come around, and the ball just caught the edge of the strike zone.

Depending on the ump, it could have been called a ball.

Next, a sign for a changeup. I nodded, pulled back, twisted, and released again.

Whoosh.

"Strike!"

The 136 km/h changeup dropped, pulling a swing and a miss from a batter looking for a mid-150 km/h four-seamer.

And then, finally, a two-seamer signal.

The two-seamer is inevitably slower than the four-seamer.

When I'd won 20 games in my thirties, I used to tune the velocities of my fastballs so they were close together, keeping batters guessing.

Back then, it was lower, in the 140 km/h range instead of the 150s, but it worked well and became my main repertoire.

If you throw the four-seam slower and the two-seam faster, roughly matching their speeds, batters will get confused.

The most important thing is that your pitching form has to look the same with every pitch.

Otherwise, you can't deceive the batter.

It's not always good to sacrifice command for velocity on the two-seamer, but...

Whoosh.

My two-seamer tailed slightly outside from the center of the zone, and the batter swung forcefully.

But as it approached the plate, the baseball veered sharply out, almost as if alive and dodging the bat.

"Strike! Out!"

Yes!

Now I could throw two-seamers and four-seamers both above 150 km/h, instead of the former 140s.

The batter walked away, looking dumbfounded, and for the next one I chose a low-140s two-seamer, aiming for weak contact.

Crack!

"Out!"

The batter, awkward, his hips pulling back, managed a weak grounder to first.

And then to the next hitter.

Crack!

"Foul!"

Crack!

"Foul!"

After two back-to-back two-seamers, another two-seam sign.

Yoon Bong-wan waggled his right hand after the sign, as if urging me to bring another hard two-seamer like before.

So I put everything into the next two-seamer, and the batter, having adjusted for the slower pitch, completely missed the hitting point and swung through it.

"Strike! Out!"

In two innings: four strikeouts and two groundouts.

As soon as the umpire made the strikeout call, Yoon Bong-wan lifted his mask and came up to me.

"Wow, Seo Ye-sung..."

"You called an excellent mix, sir. Thank you."

Yoon Bong-wan smiled and put his arm around my shoulder.

"Were you always this cool and breezy during practice?"

"I guess I put a bit more oomph into it since it's a real game."

"Well, as long as you're this good, say whatever you want. Say anything you like."

Judging from his tone and face, it didn't sound like a scolding.

I just grinned and walked back into the dugout together, where I saw my father standing by the dugout entrance.

"Seo Ye-sung."

"Yes."

"Your pitching's done for today."

Just in case, I asked him on purpose,

"Did I get cut?"

"No."

"I thought so."

"Why ask if you already know?"

My father smiled broadly, and then the head coach shouted,

"Hey! Pitching Coach! If you're not busy, go give that rookie with the hot arm a good shoulder rub!"

"Me?!"

"Yes!"

"I'm Seo Tae-seung, you know?"

"He's Seo Ye-sung! And I'm Song Moon-jung!"

Byeong-ju laughed cluelessly.

Hey, you punk.

Please, use your head, will you?