Countryside Ace

Chapter 25 : We're Close (1)

We're Close (1)

"There's nothing as boring as baseball among all the sports that play with a ball."

Surprisingly, this was the opinion of Head Coach Song Moon-jung, who had the most brilliant career in Korean baseball, and was the theory at the core of his baseball philosophy.

"We play for three hours a day, and then do this over 140 games. How can you not get bored?"

Song Moon-jung clicked his tongue with a tsk as he said this.

Yet, he was the one who had played that boring game for over fifty years.

"But, if you keep watching that boring game, it'll drive you crazy. Even in those three hours, there are at least a couple of moments that hit you—bam!"

The sarcasm on Song Moon-jung's lips had turned to a look of satisfaction.

"Yesterday's game, it was so boring, wasn't it?"

The reporters sitting before Song Moon-jung had puzzled expressions.

How could a game where, for the first time ever, a high school rookie pitcher threw a complete-game shutout in his debut be boring?

"Not a single second was boring for me. Hahaha."

The reporters let out small laughs at the coach's words.

Of course.

From the head coach's point of view, there's no way that kind of game would be boring.

Baseball is a game where even two or three thrilling moments a day are enough.

If you repeat that all year, you can have at least three hundred moments of thrill.

Of course, if you lose a game, that happiness vanishes and nothing but anger and annoyance is left.

A promising ace must, by principle, be raised carefully.

But paradoxically, if you only raise them carefully, they rarely grow well.

Song Moon-jung, with over fifty years of baseball experience, knew that better than anyone.

"Still, it's too early to be surprised. Our youngest still has a secret weapon left."

Regardless of that, it was true he was fidgeting to boast about it.

Song Moon-jung slurped his coffee and continued with a warm expression.

"Ah, what it is is a secret. Just keep watching. Anyway, that's it for today! Oh, and our youngest doesn't even have a driver's license! He didn't go out to buy a Ferrari, so don't go writing any weird articles!"

* * *

"He's a bad guy."

At Terry's remark, Byeong-ju nodded with an unusually grave face.

"Do you even understand what you're nodding about in English?"

"I understand everything!"

Byeong-ju bristled at my words. Harold Bradshaw spoke in a low voice.

"Please get out of my room. All of you."

"But it's comfortable here."

Terry was one of the most shameless people I'd ever met.

By order of the head coach, all players except foreign players were to share rooms—two to a room.

Terry was sharing with the underhanded bullpen pitcher, yuk Kang-oh.

"... Actually, me too."

Byeong-ju was rooming with Yoon Bong-wan. I shared a room with Jung Han-seung, but it wasn't uncomfortable.

"Damn it. How did this...."

Bradshaw had a somewhat exasperated expression but didn't kick us out.

Honestly, I felt a bit wronged. I came to talk to him about the sweeper I threw yesterday, but those two just tagged along.

"Bradshaw."

"What."

"The sweeper I threw yesterday—my ball control wasn't good."

"..."

Bradshaw stared at me blankly, a look of disbelief in his eyes.

"You threw a complete-game shutout and you're asking an old guy who gave up one run in six innings for advice?"

"As you know, I was lucky."

"Damn."

Bradshaw shook his head, paused, and then spoke.

"Baseball is about good results. That's it. Got it?"

"I know. But things might go bad in a few days even if they were good yesterday, right? If I can pitch as long as you and throw as well as you, then it wouldn't be luck, would it?"

Bradshaw mulled over my response, then waved his arm and said,

"Shouldn't you be aiming for your father rather than someone like me?"

"I'm not so sure. Don't take this the wrong way, but I think you're amazing."

That was the truth.

To add a bit more, ever since ABS (Automated Ball-strike System) was introduced, KBO saw a golden era of breaking balls that dropped sharply downward.

Balls that bounced and clipped the edge of the zone started being called strikes.

Naturally, the value of pitchers who could throw curves or forkballs well went up, and batters adjusted their swing paths to hit those pitches.

I planned to throw the sweeper to exploit the holes in those swings, but I was troubled because, especially against left-handed batters, my spray pattern was drifting too far outside.

Not sure how to respond to my words, Bradshaw wet his lips, then sighed in resignation.

"Damn it. Try throwing it like a cutter? Do you know how to throw a cutter?"

"I know how."

"Then you're good. You don't have to be great at throwing it to work on that."

"You mean use my elbow and wrist?"

"... Yeah."

So I have to grip it like a two-seam and throw it like a curve, but with a cutter feel?

What crazy advice.

But since I haven't tried it, I'll give it a shot, and if it doesn't work out, I'll ask again.

"Your balance between upper and lower body when pitching is good. That means your ball control issues don't come from body swaying. Just keep trying different things and make it your own."

Even if the advice sounds like nonsense, I have to make the best of it. As soon as our conversation ended, Terry grumbled.

"I barely even got a chance to throw a sweeper."

Terry's role in the team is basically lefty one-point reliever—just for chasing games.

So far this season, he'd only faced one batter.

Byeong-ju, who hadn't had his debut yet, muttered gloomily.

"I haven't even played one inning..."

This was what Terry meant when he called me a bad guy earlier.

If I'd just pitched when the score gap was big, maybe he'd have gotten a chance.

But I know it's just a joke.

"Give Bong-wan sunbae some laxatives. That'll give you a chance."

Byeong-ju looked at me funny.

It's a joke.

Come on.

* * *

Byeong-ju's chance came faster than expected.

We were supposed to head home after the three-game series away against the Stars, but in today's game, starting pitcher Lee Min-gi gave up a three-run homer in the second inning.

He'd gotten through the first inning cleanly, but then walked Baek Jung-woong, gave up the season's first hit to Alex Hosmer, and, after getting the next batter on strikes, threw a first-pitch four-seam that ended up right in the middle to Stars catcher Kim Seok-do—a crushing three-run homer.

Even after that, he gave up four more hits, allowed two more runs, and the reliever allowed one of his inherited runners to score, leaving him with a line of 1.1 innings and 6 earned runs for his season debut.

Lee Min-gi, who'd been considered one of the young starting candidates in my father's eyes.

He said Min-gi had looked in the best shape during the opening week, so he chose him as a starter, but it seemed he got a bit nervous.

It happens.

If you get sucked into the Stars' naive but hard-hitting style, rookie or veteran, it doesn't matter.

Sunbae Kim Joon-seo took over but got hit a bit as well, as did Lee In-gi, the next pitcher up.

By the end of the fifth, the score was 9 to 1.

Jung Han-seung, who'd lost his velocity but still had craftiness, finally tamed the hot Stars' bats, but the score had already gotten away, and the head coach started subbing out the older players one by one.

The catcher switched from Yoon Bong-wan to Byeong-ju, and both the first and second baseman were replaced.

Lee Young-jun, who'd been the backup catcher, did his best to hide his disappointment.

Still, the season is long, and Yoon Bong-wan's knees and back are in bad shape.

The second and third catchers should get some playing time this season.

"..."

Silence filled the dugout. But that wasn't a bad thing. Maybe it's better than how it used to be.

At least people are acting somber when losing badly.

In the old Miners, plenty of guys would be goofing off even in times like this.

"What? Game over already?"

The head coach, dissatisfied after subbing out the starters, said as much, shifting the mood.

Veteran Yoon Bong-wan, spraying pain relief on his knees with a weary face, jumped up and shouted.

"Byeong-ju! Lee Byeong-ju! Yah! Let's go, do it right!"

The team elder mimicked a Busan dialect, prompting other players to start looking around, then firing up as well.

"Yeah, Byeong-ju! Go for the fastball!"

"Lee Byeong-ju, fighting!"

"Let's see a home run in your first pro at-bat!"

Even if, in practice, the team was basically forfeiting, pretending otherwise mattered too.

Since we were planning to return to our home base in Wonju, Gangwon after tonight, the head coach may have made that decision for rotation reasons.

I stood up, too.

What kind of cheer should I shout?

"Lee Byeong-ju! You said you're taking the starting job from Yoon Bong-wan sunbae!"

Suddenly, all the seniors' eyes shot at me. My father looked at me and stifled a laugh.

Is this what Father meant by that "hormone thing" he talked about?

Yoon Bong-wan laughed and then shouted,

"Byeong-ju! You'll have to hit at least thirty home runs for me to give up my spot!"

* * *

Lee Byeong-ju didn't hit a home run in his first pro at-bat.

If he had, Miners would've drafted a debut shutout pitcher in round one, and a debut at-bat home run catcher in round two.

- Ah! Lee Byeong-ju! A weakly struck ball! The slow roller heads between second and third! Lee Byeong-ju runs! Caught by Park Seung-hwan! Lee Byeong-ju's head-first slide! Safe! He's safe! An infield single made with speed and grit! Gangwon Miners' rookie catcher Lee Byeong-ju records a hit in his debut at-bat!

The Miners bench erupted.

Battery coach Timothy Goldberg also smiled at his protégé's first pro hit.

His unreal forearm muscles seemed to twitch like they were alive.

Head Coach Song Moon-jung bit his lip lightly.

He liked this kind of kid.

Hard not to like him, full of both talent and grit, though his defensive detail still needed lots of work.

Still, Song Moon-jung didn't like head-first slides.

He briefly thought of benching him as a warning not to do it again, but that evaporated after seeing Lee Byeong-ju sitting on first, on the verge of tears.

"Tsk."

"Yes, sir."

"What do you know, huh?"

"I'll make sure to warn him not to stick his head in next time he runs to first."

Song Moon-jung looked at Head Coach Park Joong-gu with a puzzled face.

"Why use a rough word like 'head' when you could say something nicer?"

The head coach read his intentions because during his active career he'd heard those words from the coach several times.

But he didn't say, "I learned it from you."

Foreign pitchers who celebrated as if it were their own success; young Korean pitchers who still couldn't even speak Korean that well but tried to fit in.

Anyway, even if only slightly, the team was coming together in a short time, and Song Moon-jung straightened his posture to watch.

* * *

Kang Un-deok, the Miners' owner and a baseball fanatic, frowned deeply after the early innings got away.

The first and second games against the Busan Stars were fun to watch.

The starting pitchers had dominated the opposing batters, so losing hadn't even seemed possible.

- Lee Byeong-ju now steals a base!

- Haha, looking at his build you'd think he's a slugger, but he's got speed, too.

- Yes, according to the records... yes! That's the first steal for a player born in 2010.

- It wasn't his first hit though.

- Seoul Fighters' Song Seung-ri got a hit on opening day. But Lee Byeong-ju takes the first stolen base record!

Still, that was good news.

The Miners were famous for being terrible at developing rookies.

They even faced criticism for ruining high-potential prospects if left alone.

"Didn't we hire the right head coach?"

At Kang Un-deok's question, Executive Director Jo Woo-jin responded immediately, without hesitation.

"Yes. His eye for FA signings is sharp, the existing veterans follow him without a word, rookies he's given daring chances to are producing, and even guys who were wasting away on the farm are useful on the first team. The hiring of this coaching staff was an outstanding decision."

At this ready answer, the owner grinned.

Executive Director Jo Woo-jin had a way of speaking so matter-of-factly it never sounded like flattery.

- Han Sung-yun! Han Sung-yun clears the wall! The season's first home run! An unfinished prodigy roars!

He'd been called a once-in-a-generation talent but still hadn't unlocked all his potential—now, pumping his fist after a home run at third base.

The owner pumped his fist, too.

"Yes, we can't give up to the end—let's keep chasing!"

Just a bit earlier, he'd been grumbling about pulling the starters and giving up; now, that was nowhere to be seen.