Chapter 20

Chapter 20. Nine Chances Left?

The atmosphere in the locker room heated up in an instant.

Yoon Jaejun and Kwon Geonwoo both tried to stop me at the same time.

“Hey. He’s still your senior.”

“Just hold it in for now…”

But I had no intention of holding back.

Why should I?

I had no intention of putting up with something unreasonable.

Someone needed to establish the hierarchy here.

Especially with a lunatic who thought joining the team one year earlier gave him the right to act however he wanted.

“What did you just say to your senior?”

The other guy—Park Seunga—turned red in the face.

I calmly spoke to the piece of trash who would become a major troublemaker in the future.

“Don’t you want to see whether I’m actually worth the 3 billion won they paid me?”

I wasn’t the type to refuse a challenge.

This guy would get released at the end of this year, start doing drugs, and ruin his life.

“You wanna throw down? You little bastard, talking to your senior like—”

“Who said anything about fighting? I said I’ll prove my skill.”

I spoke without the slightest hint of agitation.

The locker room atmosphere, which had already been bad, sank even further.

The one who stepped between us was the team captain, Kim Hakseong.

He had once enjoyed a glorious season with forty home runs.

But ever since then, the first baseman had somehow become the league’s strikeout king every year.

“Park Seunga. Stop trying to discipline the rookies. And Choi Seong, you went too far too.”

He quickly took the classic both-sides approach and tried to settle things.

“Come on, everyone’s always talking about MZ this, MZ that these days. Isn’t the rookie the problem if he’s already acting like this at the start of the season?”

Park Seunga complained to Kim Hakseong as if he were being treated unfairly.

There were two things wrong with what he had just said.

First, it was hard to call me part of the MZ generation when I had the mind of someone in his thirties.

Second, this wasn’t the start of the season.

After getting crushed by the Magicians just now, the Oceans had fallen to ninth place.

They were twelve games behind the last-place team.

In other words…

“Want to have a velocity contest or something? Or since you’re a hitter…”

I looked at him.

“Want to try hitting my pitches?”

I didn’t particularly care whether Kim Hakseong tried to mediate or not.

I had no intention of backing down anyway.

“Do you seriously want me to gather every senior and junior in the team?”

Park Seunga really seemed incapable of saying anything correctly.

He was so worked up that he was just blurting out nonsense.

There was nobody below me.

And as for above me?

That was him.

“What? You’re not confident?”

Everyone fell silent at that.

This time, Kim Hakseong stepped in again.

After thinking for a moment, he gave an awkward smile.

“Then let’s do this. During the next training session, Seunga and Choi Seong can face each other. Whoever loses buys everyone a meal, and we end it there.”

Park Seunga’s eyes widened at Kim Hakseong’s proposal.

I smiled lightly.

Normally, in a situation like this, I would be the one getting crushed.

But there were two problems.

First, Park Seunga was such a hopeless piece of garbage that all the veterans hated him.

Up until now, they had tolerated him because he had won the Lee Youngmin Batting Award in high school and everyone believed he had talent.

Second, the veterans still wanted Park Seunga to improve.

Those two things combined had led to this.

Park Seunga had talent.

But people called it devilish talent, and he would eventually get thrown out of baseball.

Could someone like him actually hit my pitches?

“I’ll give you ten chances to hit my pitches.”

I raised a finger.

“If you can put even one ball into the field, you win.”

“You little bastard… You think being good in high school means you’re already at the pro level?”

Park Seunga had taken the bait perfectly.

He stepped toward me like he was about to hit me, but Kim Hakseong stopped him.

“Fine. We’ll do that. But if even one out of those ten balls lands in the field, then from now on, you listen properly when your seniors tell you something. Got it?”

“Of course.”

I nodded at Kim Hakseong’s mediation.

Park Seunga burst into a loud laugh, looking completely dumbfounded.

“Now I’ve seen everything. A fresh-out-of-high-school rookie is already acting like a psycho…”

“Ah. If you’re scared, you can back out now.”

“Scared? What the hell would I be scared of?!”

The players in the locker room watched the scene with growing interest.

I calmly stretched, then bowed my head to the other seniors in greeting.

Training would begin one month later.

I held onto the time that flew by like an arrow.

And quietly spent it being good to my parents.

My signing bonus was 3 billion won.

The highest signing bonus ever given to a rookie.

My father got himself a foreign car.

“Are you sure I can really accept something like this?”

“Of course. Just take good care of Mom during next summer’s vacation.”

I had booked them a seven-day, six-night cruise.

They wouldn’t be able to watch their son play baseball for a week, but they would be able to sail around the European seas and see all kinds of scenery.

“Of course, of course. Don’t worry about your mother.”

Dad had reacted positively when I told him I would buy him a new car.

Mom was different.

Even now, she was sitting beside me and looking at me as if she were unhappy with the whole thing.

“I told you to use this money yourself.”

“Ah, come on, Mom. It’s already in your account.”

I had transferred fifty million won in cash into her bank account.

She kept feeling uncomfortable about receiving gifts from me, so I had no other choice.

“Still, this is money you earned by wearing down your shoulder. How am I supposed to spend it…”

“Then don’t spend it. Just save it.”

Though not long afterward, I noticed that Mom’s old dishwasher and ancient washing machine had both been replaced.

While eating kimchi stew stuffed with ham and meat, we sat together and chatted.

These were the moments most precious to me.

Well.

Except for what was being shown on the television.

[Busan Oceans manager Park Giwon has been abruptly dismissed. The Oceans announced today that they have dismissed Park Giwon and will appoint foreign manager Rodriguez as his replacement. Rodriguez previously served as a bench coach for the Florida Marlins in MLB…]

I had expected the firing.

But I had never expected them to bring in a foreign manager.

And that manager…

“Why is that guy coming to Korea?”

Especially when he was considered one of the better managers in MLB.

This was completely different from my previous life, when the team kept hiring Korean managers and somehow got even worse.

Was God going all in on getting the Oceans a championship or something?

There was a saying among MLB pitchers.

The more breaking balls you know, the better.

Of course, in my previous life, I had thrown all kinds of pitches.

Slider.

Fastball.

Curveball.

Forkball.

Slow curve.

You name it.

At first, people called me a fireballer.

But after suffering several injuries, I gained a different nickname.

The Chameleon.

It meant I could show hitters an incredibly wide variety of pitches.

Of course, I had only done it to survive.

Still, adding all those different pitches to my arsenal had helped me a lot.

That was why I couldn’t help thinking about it now.

Should I learn even more breaking balls?

There was one problem.

Every time I added a new pitch, I had to use different muscles throughout my forearm.

In other words, it increased the risk of injury.

“Hmm…”

Back when I kept burning myself out by throwing too many different pitches, one pitcher had given me different advice.

Nicky.

He had once led the league in wins while pitching for the New York Mets and was called a symbol of perseverance.

He had spent years in the minor leagues, suddenly broke out for one season and won the Cy Young Award, then disappeared again after getting injured.

Nicky had once told me something.

Don’t stuff too many pitches into your arsenal.

Instead, develop one breaking ball that nobody can hit.

He himself had conquered the Majors with a knuckleball.

He had become a knuckleball pitcher at a time when the pitch had been nearly extinct since the 1980s.

When paired with a circle changeup that came from a similar trajectory, strikeouts were practically guaranteed.

“I hate knuckleballs…”

I shook my head.

I hadn’t known Nicky for very long, but for some reason, he had called me a gentleman and taught me his knuckleball grip and throwing method.

I still remembered it clearly.

But the knuckleball didn’t suit me.

Its velocity was extremely slow, around 90 to 100 kilometers per hour.

And because it had almost no spin, if a hitter happened to catch it properly, it could turn into a home run.

Instead…

“Maybe I should try that pitch…”

Right now, I had a fastball, slider, circle changeup, and the screwball I could throw through my ability.

There was another pitch that would fit perfectly into that arsenal.

My four-seam fastball had an upward trajectory, almost like a rising fastball.

So I wanted to practice something that dropped downward.

“A power curve?”

I had thrown it a few times in the past.

People even said I had the talent to develop it properly.

But I had never truly added it to my arsenal.

The reason was simple.

Learning another breaking ball at the time would have destroyed my body.

And Park Seunga was the perfect person to test it against.

I immediately rushed off to my private training facility.

After being provoked by Choi Seong, Park Seunga threw himself into training like a madman.

He canceled every trip to the clubs in Seomyeon and every drinking party in Haeundae that he normally loved.

“That little bastard… How dare he talk to a senior like me…”

He had already been under enormous stress because he had been terrible throughout the season.

Thirty hits in 201 plate appearances.

He had been given plenty of opportunities, yet his batting average was only .150.

It was a result completely unworthy of someone like him, who had won the Lee Youngmin Batting Award after recording the highest batting average across the four major high school tournaments during his senior year.

That was when he finally realized just how different high school baseball and professional baseball were.

“That bastard. That goddamn bastard.”

He only had to put one ball into the field in ten chances.

Then he would win.

And once that happened, he planned to make that bastard do everything for him from then on.

Laundry.

Fetching drinks.

Everything.

This wasn’t something that could simply be settled by buying one meal.

The fans were already treating Park Seunga like garbage.

If even a rookie started acting like this toward him, there was no way he could endure it.

And so Park Seunga spent an entire month burning with anger.

It was after that when he learned that the new manager, Rodriguez, had been appointed.

The moment Rodriguez met the players, he said only one thing.

“Training is voluntary.”

Then he continued.

“However, if there is anything you don’t understand or anything you need, tell the people I brought with me. They will help you.”

As he spoke, he introduced each member of his coaching staff one by one.

The front office clearly seemed serious about changing the team’s entire structure.

From the first team to the second team, they had filled the staff almost entirely with foreigners.

“From now on, you may train freely without worrying about specific hours. It will be different from Korean baseball. We operate based on autonomy.”

Rodriguez looked across the players.

“However, once the actual games begin, you will be expected to follow my instructions properly.”

Park Seunga nodded.

It seemed as though everyone was about to disperse.

But someone raised a hand.

It was Kim Hakseong.

“There’s something we need to do before we begin training properly.”

The interpreter translated his words.

Rodriguez nodded.

“What do we need to do?”

“We need to settle some bad blood between the younger players.”

Park Seunga’s face actually brightened.

Kim Hakseong, who had always treated him like an eyesore, had stepped forward and explained the situation.

He told Rodriguez about the conflict between Park Seunga and Choi Seong.

If Park Seunga could show good batting here, it might also help secure his position at third base.

After listening to the interpreter, Rodriguez nodded.

“Sounds interesting.”

Then he smiled.

“Let’s do it right now.”

“Yes.”

Choi Seong calmly nodded.

Then he put on his glove and walked up to the mound.

“You’re dead now…”

Park Seunga grabbed a bat and stepped into the batter’s box.

A few reporters who had come to take pictures of the Oceans’ first practice looked completely uninterested.

Well, the postseason was in full swing right now.

There was no reason for them to care much about a team that had already fallen out of contention.

The bored reporters yawned and casually asked people around them what was going on.

Once they heard about the bet, however, their expressions immediately changed.

Now they were watching the matchup with interest.

“Throw it!”

Park Seunga shouted loudly.

Choi Seong gave no answer.

Yoon Jaejun had suddenly volunteered to crouch behind the plate as the catcher.

“If you throw ten balls outside the zone and then claim I couldn’t hit them, I’ll kill you.”

Of course, if Choi Seong actually did that, it would only make him look ridiculous.

Ignoring the nonsense, Choi Seong began his windup.

His pitching motion was definitely simple and compact.

A fastball suddenly came flying toward the plate.

Park Seunga didn’t panic.

He swung.

But it wasn’t a fastball.

Right in front of the plate, the ball suddenly dropped sharply downward.

“Huh?”

The moment that sound escaped Park Seunga’s mouth, his batting form collapsed.

He desperately twisted his waist in an attempt to follow the ball’s trajectory.

But that only made things worse.

“That’s a strike.”

Choi Seong spoke calmly from the mound.

At the exact same moment, Park Seunga fell over.

• 140 km/h

The pitch was fairly fast, and the movement was unmistakable.

Park Seunga collapsed onto the ground inside the batter’s box.

He had gone in thinking it was a fastball, only for his balance to completely fall apart.

Just what the hell was that bizarre pitch that suddenly broke downward like that?

“Come on, Sunbae. Get up.”

Yoon Jaejun threw the ball back to Choi Seong while helping Park Seunga to his feet.

“Huh? Uh…”

Choi Seong grinned and coated his hand with plenty of rosin again.

Then he looked straight at Park Seunga.

“Sunbae.”

His voice was full of confidence.

“You’ve got nine left, right?”

For a moment, Park Seunga ground his teeth.