Countryside Ace

Chapter 14 : mama (1)

mama (1)

The second game on the day I took the mound for the first time ended with our team winning 5 to 2, led by Kim Jae-beom's home run and strong performances from the pitchers.

Fortunately, it seemed like the head coach's mood had improved a bit.

Even after the game, we continued with stamina training.

The fielders, having played both games, looked a little tired, but couldn't show it openly.

Among them, Jo Sung-gyu looked the most downcast. He seemed unable to come to terms with his own performance.

One bullpen pitcher, who didn't allow a single baserunner over one inning, appeared pretty excited, but I remembered how he and I had bounced back and forth between the second team and never managed to secure a spot in the first team.

Anyway, we played two more games the next day.

In the first game, Hwang Seung-tae pitched three innings with one hit allowed, one walk, four strikeouts, and no runs.

Jung Han-seung's four-seam velocity stayed in the low 130s km/h, but he managed to hang on with his command.

In the final game, another foreign pitcher, Harold Bradshaw, took the mound.

The veteran lefty Bradshaw's velocity was in the low to mid-140s km/h, but his weighty cutter and changeup, along with a sweeper (a type of horizontal slider) against left-handed batters, were very effective.

Anyway, that's how the first spring camp ended.

We were headed to Japan for more training and a few practice games, after which we would return to Korea.

After the exhibition games held in Korea, the regular league would begin.

Honestly, I felt uneasy. Would I be able to perform well, or would I one day be struck by an injury I couldn't overcome?

In the end, I concluded that I just had to keep focusing on training in order to avoid injury and improve.

"Oh, Jo-kka. It's good to see your muscles working hard."

Timothy Goldberg said this as he watched me working out late into the night before we left for Japan.

I did flinch a little at his pronunciation...

"Please teach me more about how to train my muscles to prevent injury."

I ended up inviting trouble myself.

"A great mindset."

* * *

The second spring camp in Japan is packed with practice games.

Since so many Korean pro teams gather here, it's easy to find opponents if schedules match up.

Sometimes, we even get to play practice games against Japanese teams.

But, well, a practice game is still just a practice game.

Just because you do well in a practice game doesn't guarantee you'll do well in the regular season, and winning here doesn't count toward your season record.

Still, for the coaching staff, it's a valuable time to sketch out the opening day roster for the season, and for the players hoping to secure a spot on the first team, it's their chance to make an impression.

"In the practice games, how about you mostly throw four-seams and sliders?"

Father looked a little tired. He rubbed his eyes once with his hand and continued.

"That's what the other teams will think. 'Ah, he only throws fastballs and sliders?' But once the regular season starts, that's when you bring out the two-seam and the changeup."

He laughed as he said it.

I thought it wasn't a bad idea.

Rookies always have something to learn from each and every game. Of course, things could also turn out for the worse.

But I wasn't a true rookie.

It was a scenario to add some unpredictability to my character—a gutsy high-school graduate rookie who challenged the pros with only a fastball and a slider.

Then, I'd pull out the two-seam and the changeup one after the other, throwing the league's hitters into confusion.

If things went according to plan, I thought I could survive for at least a year.

Originally, I was also a contender for Rookie of the Year.

To be honest, the other candidates had better stats.

Someone said this:

"I'm not even on that level, but they called me a Rookie of the Year rival just because they felt sorry for the Gangwon Miners."

Thinking back, I nodded to myself.

"That sounds fun."

Father laughed out loud.

"See, living a second life is great."

"What do you mean?"

"No matter how vaguely you say things, we understand each other perfectly."

"The other pitchers can't?"

"That's what I don't get."

I don't think he used to say things like that before he became the pitching coach, but that's the way it is when you're someone who's lived twice.

I've learned a bit about not lingering in the past... not sure using those words like this is quite right, but oh well.

"Father."

"Yes?"

"Do you have a goal?"

"A goal?"

I decided not to press and just waited.

After all, people living their second life can understand each other perfectly, no matter how unclearly you talk.

"Hmm."

Father stroked his chin, gave me a quick once-over, and answered.

"After conquering the KBO, should I take you to the U. S. and try being a head coach in the Major Leagues?"

"Really?"

"Why, what's your goal?"

"I don't really know. I just wanted to play baseball again, that's all."

"Then you take my goal as yours, too."

I did have a good run in the KBO, but it wasn't for that long, and I don't think I could ever do as well as Father in the MLB.

"Alright, I'll do that."

Father smiled, as if he'd been expecting that answer. Did he take it as a sign of confidence?

My thoughts are a bit different. I might not even make it to the MLB, and even if I do, I could fail.

But so what if I can't?

If I fail, I fail. That's different from not trying. Now, I'm not afraid of failing anymore.

I know now that being unable to even try, not failure itself, is the truly frightening thing.

"But are you really confident about conquering the KBO?"

"Hmm..."

After thinking for a moment, father said,

"To be honest."

"Yes?"

"I've been away from the KBO for so long, I don't really know."

"Ah."

"And it's different from when I played. There were only ten teams back then."

"Mhm."

"But still, if you just do what I did, wouldn't that be enough?"

"Me?"

"What, are you chickening out?"

Father tried to provoke me, but that kind of provocation doesn't work on me.

I know I'm not on that level.

"Sure."

Father looked truly surprised at my response.

"What did you just say...?"

"How could I ever do what you did?"

"Well, at least say it..."

"If it's impossible, it's impossible."

Father heaved a deep sigh and shook his head.

"A second-life son who threw away his fighting spirit..."

"You can just say I'm second-life and realistic."

Anyway, the head coach apparently decided to give me one of the starting spots.

The two foreign pitchers, me, and Hwang Seung-tae—four total.

"Who's the last spot?"

When I asked, father grinned and said,

"I'm going to rotate this guy and that guy. Until I find the best one."

"Makes sense..."

In the KBO, there are hardly any teams that manage to keep a five-man starting rotation stable. Injuries and slumps are inevitable.

"I have a pretty good idea about the pitching side."

"It might get a little noisy, though?"

If things go according to Father's plan, probably.

Among the four big-name FA starters the Miners had brought in, one retired, and of the remaining three, their fates...

One would be sent down to the second team, another relegated to long relief for losing games, and the last one, for the first time in his career, would become a closer.

For high-paid players, being in the second team for reasons other than injury means half of their salary is lost, proportionally by days.

Father planned to stash Bang Min-soo in the second team if he failed to lose weight.

"What can you do? You just have to accept it."

Father added with a strange laugh,

"And what if they don't accept it?"

Well, true. If they try to take it out on me for no reason... So what? Unlike before, I have the confidence now not to care about such trivial things.

"On another subject."

"What?"

"Bradshaw was throwing a sweeper."

"Yeah. Why?"

"Teach me, please."

"Is it that necessary?"

"Are you not confident? Are you chicken?"

I tried a bit of cheeky revenge, though it didn't really fit the context.

The deal didn't go through, though. Father merely chuckled and replied,

"The sweeper, you see, is based on a theory in aerodynamics called seam-shifted wake—"

"......"

"The pitcher adjusts the axis of rotation, making use of the seams to create horizontal movement—"

"So you can't teach me?"

"No, it's just that the sweeper varies by pitcher, so you can't teach it in a standardized way, that's the conclusion—"

"Ah."

"Do you get it?"

"Yes, I get that you can't teach me the sweeper."

"Come on, let's go."

"Where?"

"To the training ground."

* * *

Not all 12 KBO teams had gathered in Japan, but I still saw a number of familiar faces during practice games.

Among those I knew, most were in the Miners, but I'd been in the KBO a long time, after all.

Early in my career, I didn't get along well with my teammates.

When I was over thirty, I became close with some friends, some of whom are still just middle or high school students now.

Anyway, during the practice games, it seemed like the head coach was making an effort to let go a bit.

He tried not to get upset about wins and losses. Still...

"Losing? It's just a practice game, so I can let that slide a million times. But can I let it slide when you forget to cover first base?"

This is the sort of thing the head coach would never overlook.

"Errors? They happen. Technical mistakes are tolerable, but if it's because you weren't paying attention, that's an act of defiance or rebellion against the coach, isn't it?"

The pitcher who failed to cover first base had to do nothing but fielding drills for three days without throwing a single pitch, and the infielder who mistook the number of outs and strolled to the dugout without trying for a double play was sent to the second team's stadium back in Korea.

The big difference from the past is that nowadays, none of the coaching staff shield a player who spaces out just because they're a senior member.

That alone creates a distinctly different atmosphere.

"Hey! Ye Ji-hoon! I'm going to go back to the dorm and write my last will and testament! If I die from high blood pressure because of Ye Ji-hoon, it's all his fault!"

As the season approached, the frequency of the head coach's outbursts grew.

"Park Tae-ki, I wonder if I'll ever get to see you throw a strike at full count in my lifetime... Honestly, what are you? You're an assassin, aren't you? Huh!"

Father quietly remarked to me,

"Doesn't our old man look good, not holding back?"

"I'm a little worried, actually."

"It's fine, he's always like that. If a person suddenly changes, it's a sign they're about to die. If you see him pat a guy on the backside, smiling after an error, you better call 911 right away, got it?"

In retrospect, it made sense.

The head coach once ended up in the hospital after reassuring a player who'd blown a pickoff at the end of the game, telling him not to lose confidence, then kept laughing it off for days.

"But Dad, why were you so obsessed with winning?"

That's something Father and the head coach have in common. An intense desire to win.

Father looked at me strangely, as if wondering why I'd ask.

"If you're going to play, of course you want to win. We're not working out all day just to lose, are we? Go, give the coach's shoulders a rub. He might actually collapse."

The head coach really did seem to like me a lot.

It made me a little uncomfortable when he was so openly affectionate, but I decided to just be grateful and did as Father said.

"What is it? Ah, it's Ye-sung? Hey, pitching coach! My hands are hurting, you come here and do it!"

"That's my other self, so feel free to use me."

"Oh, this kid!"

In the last practice game, Park Tae-ki got into trouble by throwing too many balls and nearly blew the game in the early innings.

After the game, he came up to thank me.

"Excuse me? For what...?"

"Hah... I was prepared to get chewed out by the coach, but you lightened the mood in the dugout, didn't you? Anyway, thanks. I'll buy you a meal when we get back to Korea."

Is this what people mean when they say, "No matter what a popular guy does, it works out"?

Anyway.

Gu Hyun-im, who pitched after him, fired four-seams at 154 km/h and mixed in curves that, though not too sharp, dropped below the zone.

1 inning, 1 hit, 2 walks, 2 strikeouts, no runs.

"Hyun-im's pitching looks good. Would be even better if you just threw it right down the middle."

"Thank you."

Hmm...

He seemed pleased with not allowing any runs and picking up a couple of strikeouts, but the head coach didn't look that happy.

Terry gave up 1 run in 1 inning, but, compared to Gu Hyun-im, the head coach's expression actually brightened a bit.

He threw the four-seam at 154 km/h, and his 148 km/h two-seam confused the batters.

One inning, one hit.

No strikeouts, but that one hit was a home run, so he allowed a run.

"Fuck."

He seemed upset at giving up the home run. But he didn't yell or throw his glove.

"When Dad doesn't say anything, that means you did well."

"Really?"

"One hundred percent."

He seemed to cheer up a little at my words.

Throughout the practice games, I focused on pitching mainly with four-seams and sliders, and also mixed in curves—not using the repertoire I planned for real games—to get my sense back.

I kept working on my two-seam and changeup during training.

As for the sweeper, I was still practicing; while I was getting a feel for it, I didn't have enough consistency to try it in a real game yet.

Now it's really the home stretch.

After the exhibition games in Korea end, I'll have my second official debut game.

And it will come sooner than expected.

I still don't know if I'm ready, but the season always comes like that.

All I can do is keep pitching, and I came back to the past because I wanted to pitch.

"Son! Didn't you miss your mom?"

And then, I was finally home. I opened my arms wide and hugged Mother, who was smiling at me.

"I missed you."

"Really? Really? My son, you've been through so much!"

"... Honey, what about me?"

Hiding behind Mother, I looked at Father and grinned.

Seems like there's at least one thing in which I can beat Father.

His look was something else.

Maybe even more so than when I teased him about not knowing how to teach the sweeper?