Chapter 17

Chapter 17 — Championship Luck

In baseball, there are certain players who simply never seem to have championship luck.

No matter how talented they are, even if they join prestigious teams, they somehow always end up becoming the lone star carrying the entire team on their backs.

There was once an ace pitcher in Korea who played for the Daejeon Hawks who was exactly like that.

His ERA was good enough to dominate the entire league, yet championship luck stubbornly refused to follow him.

Even in the season right before he transferred to the LA Dodgers, he ultimately failed to reach ten wins.

He pitched well in his final game, but still ended the season with only nine wins.

Everyone thought he would finally win a championship after moving to the prestigious LA Dodgers.

But what happened?

Even there, the blessing called a championship never came to him.

"Play ball!"

The first game began with the umpire's booming call.

The leadoff hitter standing in front of me was the same kind of player.

In the future, he would accomplish the incredible feat of hitting fifty home runs and stealing fifty bases in a single KBO season.

And yet, after winning the Cheongryonggi, he would never win another championship.

Cheonan Nam High's leadoff hitter and third-year student, Park Soran.

He was practically an icon of bad luck.

• 133 km/h

Park Soran connected with my screwball, which had gone in fairly well.

A hit slipping between first and second—

No.

It almost became a hit.

Until I launched myself off the mound and made a diving catch.

Park Soran, who had already thrown aside his bat and started sprinting, opened his mouth in disbelief.

As if asking how the hell I had caught that ball.

"Out!"

The home plate umpire confirmed the first-base umpire's signal and declared him out.

I had caught the line-drive-like ball before it could touch the ground, and applause rang out from the stands.

• The All-Round Genius, Choi Seong

• Saewoom High's Greatest Ever, Choi Seong

• Come Back to Busan Harbor, Choi Seong!

• If Choi Seong Joins the Hawks, Free Seongsimdang for Life!

There seemed to be all kinds of banners hanging around, but I decided not to pay attention to them for now.

Park Soran shook his head in disbelief before eventually returning to the dugout.

If that had become a hit, he probably would've tried stealing second nonstop.

That was exactly why I'd been concentrating so hard on defense from the beginning.

I wanted to crush that possibility before it could even begin.

• 128 km/h

This time, my relatively slow slider dug toward the outside edge.

Once again, the opposing batter swung.

Clang!

First baseman Park Byeonggyu stretched out and caught the ball.

It looked almost like the high-jump catches made by characters in an old baseball game I used to enjoy.

Ironically, after I recorded three outs, the applause came from Cheonan Nam High's side.

The opposing coach even raised a thumb toward me as if showing his respect.

Being praised by the opposing team didn't really suit my personality...

Anyway.

I'd recorded two outs with only two pitches.

Still, Park Byeonggyu didn't look particularly happy.

Did he think they'd been making too much contact?

This was their second time seeing my pitches this year.

And they were last year's champions.

"Do you guys want to do some extra training with me?"

They say the most important thing when training people in a short period of time is fear.

The moment those words left my mouth, Park Byeonggyu's eyes changed.

They had looked slightly unfocused just a second ago.

Now they were completely different.

He didn't answer me, but seeing him nod properly made me feel relieved.

• 114 km/h

This time, I started the at-bat with a slow curveball.

And the opposing batter immediately made contact.

The ball flew into the outfield, but I didn't bother turning around.

It was the kind of hit that would comfortably drop straight into Kwon Geonwoo's glove.

Change sides.

Cheonan Nam High was definitely making contact with my pitches and gradually adjusting their swing timing.

It looked like today's game would become the most important test yet for Saewoom High's defense.

Since I was batting leadoff today, I quickly removed my defensive equipment and began warming up near the batter's box.

When I had been batting second, they had walked me.

So what would the opposing team do now?

Our strategy was simple.

Put me at first, Kwon Geonwoo at second, and Yun Jaejun at third.

We were betting everything on scoring heavily in a single inning.

"Ball four!"

There was no surprise during my at-bat.

I walked to first base, putting a runner on with no outs.

The batter most likely to win the Lee Young-min Batting Award, given annually to the player with the highest batting average of the year, was me.

I was currently hitting an unprecedented .600.

Pitchers tried to avoid facing me whenever possible.

Kwon Geonwoo stepped in next and connected with the opposing pitcher's 137 km/h sinker.

Even if I wasn't pitching.

Even if everyone refused to face me at the plate.

There was a simple way for us to keep winning.

Kwon Geonwoo and Yun Jaejun.

Those guys were finally coming alive.

"Huh?"

Even I accidentally let out a sound of surprise.

Good lord...

Kwon Geonwoo had just produced such a clean hit.

As expected of my prized disciple, who had managed to endure about half of my training program.

The ball dropped in front of center field.

No outs.

Runners on first and second.

Yun Jaejun stepped in as the third batter.

I always felt frustrated whenever I got walked because of him, but he was still batting around .300 this year.

In other words, he was basically a contact hitter who couldn't do much when runners were in scoring position.

He had managed to complete around seventy percent of my training so far, so I hadn't complained.

And I had no intention of complaining now either.

Because I trusted him.

Baseball was a team sport.

I simply believed that someday, he would fulfill his role.

• 138 km/h

A fastball with unusual movement came flying in.

Yun Jaejun swung hard, but he couldn't catch up.

The opposing pitcher was a sidearmer.

That meant even if his fastball wasn't especially fast, the movement made it look faster than it actually was.

That was why Kwon Geonwoo's earlier hit had surprised me.

A first-pitch sinker from a sidearm pitcher was extremely difficult to hit.

Yet Kwon Geonwoo had attacked it as if he'd been waiting for that exact pitch.

• 135 km/h

Another fastball.

This time, Yun Jaejun could barely foul it off.

It looked like I'd have to show something through baserunning.

The chances of Yun Jaejun hitting this pitcher's ball were extremely low.

But what if I disturbed the opposing pitcher's mentality just a little?

After that, I could leave the result to Yun Jaejun.

• 121 km/h

This time, an obvious chase pitch came in.

Fortunately, Yun Jaejun didn't touch it.

A slow breaking ball was my opportunity.

Since I'd already taken a fairly large lead, I immediately took off.

I reached third relatively easily.

The catcher hadn't expected me to steal.

Well, I suppose nobody expected the guy whose main position was pitcher to attempt something like that.

No outs.

Runners on first and third.

Now everyone was watching to see what Yun Jaejun would do.

Unfortunately, the pitcher on the mound didn't seem shaken at all...

While I watched the situation, Yun Jaejun swung at the next pitch.

He was gripping the bat long.

To be fair, the reason Yun Jaejun had become slightly less precise at the plate was largely my fault.

He was following my training program right now, and I'd told him to become a hitter who could aim for one big swing.

Crack.

The ball met Yun Jaejun's bat and flew deep.

Like I'd mentioned once before, the weaker the pitch's power, the farther a properly struck ball tended to travel.

Yun Jaejun had done it.

He had every right to be proud.

That guy had grown.

• 3–0.

My favorite moment was when an underdog team that had accomplished nothing except winning the first half suddenly scored first against the defending champions.

Or when we struck them out.

That shift in atmosphere was the best.

Especially because the opposing coach, who had been clapping comfortably just moments earlier, now had a beautifully twisted expression on his face.

Well, our cleanup hitter came up afterward and struck out rather spectacularly, so let's just skip over that.

While wiping away my sweat on the bench, I spoke sincerely to Kwon Geonwoo and Yun Jaejun.

"Let's make sure we go together."

I didn't say where.

But both of them smiled brightly.

They knew exactly where I meant.

Along with the Cheongryonggi, the beginning of autumn was slowly approaching.

Once your sweat cooled, the chill quickly followed.

The draft season was nearly here.

Our games were always boring.

Whenever I was the centerpiece, that was simply how things went.

Unless it was a tournament game, opposing teams would even send rookies against me.

Other than leadoff hitter Park Soran, nobody from Cheonan Nam High had been particularly lively on the field.

To bring out someone's full potential, sometimes you needed the kind of raw stimulation your opponent desperately wanted.

Park Soran was that kind of player.

The worse his team performed, the brighter he shone.

"Interesting."

When you play baseball long enough, you can sense momentum.

Right now, Park Soran stood in the batter's box with more desperation than any other hitter, determined to hit one of my pitches.

But what about me?

I was still one level above him.

After all, I possessed the experience of leading both Seattle and Hiroshima to championships.

"Win, and you'll get money and glory."

That was the line that worked best in MLB.

Of course, winning the Cheongryonggi once wouldn't suddenly bring us all the glory in the world.

It was simply a saying.

I calmly controlled my mind.

I didn't even want to give Park Soran a single hit.

If it were another batter, I honestly wouldn't have cared much if they managed one.

"We're definitely winning this game. Park Soran ends here with a strikeout."

• 149 km/h

A blazing fastball shot straight through the center of the strike zone.

Park Soran swung.

And missed.

"Strike!"

At the umpire's call, he stared carefully at his bat before stepping back into the box.

Thanks to the reward I'd received from the mission that removed my injury risk, I now had much more freedom when choosing pitches.

I could throw horizontally breaking pitches using both my slider and circle changeup.

And now I could also use a screwball with even sharper break without worrying about injury.

• 130 km/h

I threw a slider.

This time, Park Soran reacted quickly and made contact.

It had drifted slightly too far into the strike zone.

Fortunately, the power of the pitch overwhelmed him, and the ball slammed hard into the backstop.

Park Soran shook his head and stared sharply at me again.

I didn't feel like I was going to lose.

• 147 km/h

Normally, I would've shown him another breaking ball.

Instead, I threw another fastball.

It came in tightly on the inside.

Crack.

He made contact, but the ball popped high into the infield.

Kim Gyeongtaek caught it without trouble.

I raised my thumb toward him.

I had no intention of losing to Park Soran twice.

I got another chance at the plate in the third inning and reached base after drawing a leadoff walk.

Then Kwon Geonwoo laid down a sacrifice bunt, followed by Yun Jaejun's RBI hit.

4–0.

We slowly continued widening the score.

All I had to do was keep pitching calmly.

I controlled my emotions so that not even the slightest disturbance entered my mind.

Then another banner appeared in the stands.

• [Congratulations] Choi Seong Reaches 100 Strikeouts. Breaks High School Record for Most Consecutive Wins — From Everyone at Saewoom High

Somewhere, there were probably people watching the broadcast and feeling emotional.

I hoped my parents were among them.

I clenched my fist.

During this year's Cheongryonggi, I intended to defeat every other candidate for the number-one draft pick.

One by one.

And after continuing all the way to the end, we finally reached the ninth inning.

"Out!"

With the home plate umpire's shout, the game ended.

"Whoa!"

An enormous cheer erupted from both the stands and our dugout.

One win.

We had won the opening game.

More easily than ever before.

The Busan Oceans had finished last in the previous season.

Their scout, Kim Minsu, couldn't help but feel bewildered as he watched Kwon Geonwoo and Yun Jaejun play from the stands.

When did those guys become this good at hitting?

They had simply been overshadowed by Choi Seong, but now that they were third-years, both were putting together solid seasons.

"Unless they're somehow going through ridiculously late growth spurts, there's no other explanation..."

Until last year, they had both hit in the .100s in every major tournament.

They had at least managed averages in the .200s during the weekend league, but strangely, they always failed to perform when the important tournaments began.

"Is Choi Seong feeding those guys some kind of drug or something...?"

Their mentality had changed.

A championship DNA had begun blooming inside Saewoom High, a team that had spent years at the bottom.

And it had happened within only a few months.

"Why are you talking to yourself so much?"

"Oh, Senior. You just got here?"

"You brat... congratulations."

Kim Minsu showed no particular reaction.

Naturally, he knew the man wasn't congratulating him on Saewoom High's victory.

"We're taking Choi Seong, okay?"

When Kim Minsu still didn't respond, the Hawks scout smiled.

"What? You don't even want to give me one piece of information? Weren't you guys originally planning to take Park Soran?"

"You're way too sly, Senior."

"Hah. Guess you caught me. So, what do you really think of Choi Seong? Personally, he gets my blood pumping..."

Kim Minsu listened to the Hawks scout and calmly thought about it.

It didn't take long to determine Choi Seong's value.

No.

There was no other conclusion he could reach.

"It's way beyond simply getting my blood pumping."

"Then what is it?"

"My heart is calling for him. If we sign Choi Seong, this team will win a championship."

"You think team sports are that easy? You think the veterans in the KBO are going to roll over that easily?"

The Hawks scout still seemed to view Choi Seong as nothing more than an elite prospect.

Kim Minsu sighed inwardly.

He knew his senior had always been the kind of person who deliberately tried to lower a player's perceived value...

But some things simply had to be acknowledged.

Or was this another trick to create even the smallest crack in the Oceans' plan to use their first selection on Choi Seong?

"Choi Seong isn't simply a prospect or the biggest high-school talent available."

"Then what do you think he is, Minsu?"

Kim Minsu paused briefly before answering.

"I think he's a future championship mercenary."

Until last year, Saewoom High had been hopeless.

These were players who barely knew what winning felt like, players who could hardly even produce hits.

Yet now, they had completely transformed.

And the reason the entire team had changed was Choi Seong, the player currently standing at the center of their celebration.

The Hawks scout stared at Kim Minsu as if he had gone insane.

Kim Minsu didn't care in the slightest.

There was one month left until the rookie draft.

Kim Minsu intended to give Choi Seong the greatest rookie contract treatment in history.

Even if Oceans General Manager Kim Sangwon refused.

He would keep pushing until the very end.

Because that was the greatest repayment he could offer, in his position, to the ace who might finally bring them a championship.