Chapter 5. My Shoulder Is Expensive Today
The result of swinging at the very first pitch was, naturally enough, a home run.
Kim Beomjin's pitch had been a fastball somewhere in the low 150 km/h range, but its RPM—revolutions per minute—wasn't particularly high.
In other words, it was nothing but a feather with speed.
Back when I'd stepped into the batter's box as a pitcher in the Major Leagues, I'd faced breaking balls with all kinds of ridiculous movement and fastballs reaching as high as 167 km/h.
Compared to those, this wasn't difficult at all.
Cheers erupted from our dugout instead of mere applause.
The only problem was that Kim Beomjin, still standing on the mound, was biting his lip and glaring at me.
Why?
I didn't even do a bat flip. I was just quietly rounding the bases.
Still, that expression of his was pretty entertaining.
Kim Beomjin had been fairly famous in my previous life too.
He remained the ace of the Busan Oceans for years before eventually being posted to Major League Baseball.
His velocity was good enough to compete in the Majors.
The problem was how light his pitches felt.
His movement was far too straightforward, so he got hit hard and eventually returned to the KBO, where he went back to dominating everyone.
Seeing a guy like him participating in an exchange game against the worst team probably meant our soccer club and their baseball team had worked out some kind of shady deal.
Petty bastards.
Anyway, I'd given Saeum High a 1–0 lead over Jeil High.
The moment I returned to the dugout, every player on the team gave me a high five.
Come on.
You're making it feel like I just hit a walk-off homer...
The biggest problem was that it was only the top of the first inning.
"Seong. As your coach, I'm so proud of you. The last time we scored first against Jeil High was in the exchange game on July 27, 2015. Back then, the only player on our team who entered the pros through the draft was..."
And so on.
I'll skip the rest.
The reason Coach Park Seonghyeon was so emotional was simple.
It was our first opening run against Jeil High in years.
Actually, it was the first time since the second half of last year that we'd scored before our opponents instead of being dragged around from the beginning.
The whole dugout was roaring loudly enough to shake.
No, seriously... the game isn't over yet.
After giving up the first run to me, Kim Beomjin's expression changed completely.
That didn't look good.
Some players performed better when their emotions ran high.
Others performed worse.
That guy was the former type.
After all, he was someone who had once shut out Japan for five innings in an international game.
Six pitches.
Two strikeouts.
Other than me, our hitters couldn't even touch him.
Not that I'd expected much in the first place.
The sides changed naturally, and I stepped onto the mound.
Everyone was staring at me.
Especially our players.
At first, there had been doubt in their eyes.
Now, that doubt had turned into confidence.
Voices came from behind me.
"Choi Seong! We're counting on you!"
"Hey! We can do this too!"
Yeah.
This was what I'd wanted.
Because I was always the one who created miracles.
Kim Beomjin was also his team's cleanup hitter.
You rarely saw two-way players in professional baseball, but they were quite common in high school baseball.
And...
The same applied to Choi Seong.
"Just think of it as having a bad day."
Coach Gu Byeongseok still reeked of alcohol.
Kim Beomjin frowned for a moment, but quickly relaxed his expression.
"Yes, Coach. I won't let my guard down today. I never imagined Choi Seong had that much talent as a hitter."
He said that, but the result had completely wounded his pride.
His pitches had been coming out just as well as usual today.
The low-150s fastball had dug perfectly into the lower inside corner against Choi Seong.
And yet, he'd turned on it immediately.
As if he'd known it was coming.
"That's right. It's always important not to let your guard down. Still, that's a good expression you've got. And that guy's a traitor. A traitor."
"Is that so..."
The other Jeil High players were whispering among themselves as they watched Kim Beomjin.
The third-year pitchers in particular were smiling.
The so-called Crown Prince of Jeil High had finally taken a hit.
If they were lucky, maybe an opportunity would come their way too.
"Even if he got a little lucky with the home run, his pitching probably still isn't fully developed. You know his weakness, right? His fastballs tend to drift high."
"Probably. When he threw in practice not long ago, his body still wasn't fully developed."
Kim Beomjin thought about Choi Seong's potential.
They were in the same year, but Choi Seong had always been something of an outsider on the team.
He had been timid by nature and obediently followed everything the coach told him.
He didn't have many friends either.
No.
It might have been more accurate to say he didn't have any.
"I'm still improving too. Next time, I absolutely won't lose."
"Good. That's the mindset you need."
Choi Seong calmly began his windup on the mound.
He looked completely different from when he'd been batting earlier.
At the plate, he'd given off the presence of a tiger.
Now, he seemed strangely detached and calm.
Then he threw.
The entire motion flowed naturally, almost like water.
"Strike one!"
The moment the umpire made the call, Kim Beomjin shot up from his seat.
Coach Gu Byeongseok's eyes were already wide open.
"How does that make any sense?"
—150 km/h.
The overwhelming pitch slammed into the catcher's mitt.
The leadoff batter couldn't even react.
"I'm sure... just a month ago, his four-seam fastball was only in the 140s. How did he..."
The most shocked person was Coach Gu Byeongseok, whose mouth was hanging open.
Apparently completely sober now, he walked all the way to the front of the dugout where the players were sitting.
He looked like he'd just seen something he wasn't supposed to see.
Choi Seong threw the second pitch.
—149 km/h.
Instead of sounding like a baseball hitting a catcher's mitt, it sounded almost like someone had caught a brick.
Just like that, the count became no balls and two strikes.
Jeil High's leadoff hitter was a pretty talented prospect himself.
He was considered likely to be selected high in the draft from this region.
Yet Choi Seong was completely overpowering him with nothing but fastballs.
No.
At the high school level, those fastballs were almost impossible to hit in the first place.
"And why is his delivery so fast...? His form is completely different..."
He was throwing almost as if he were using a quick motion every single time.
Kim Beomjin had somehow ended up standing beside Coach Gu Byeongseok.
He muttered to himself.
"How is he throwing a pitch like that from that motion...? What the hell..."
While they stood there in shock, the bottom of the first ended almost instantly.
Eleven pitches.
Three strikeouts.
It was a completely different start from Kim Beomjin, who had given up a home run in the top of the first.
Of course, Kim Beomjin didn't stay quiet either.
He retired our side in order in the top of the second.
This time, however, he couldn't record a strikeout.
Saeum High's hitters shortened their grips and did everything they could to put the ball on the ground just to get on base.
Unfortunately, every one of those grounders was easy enough for Jeil High's infielders to handle.
"I'll get my revenge."
Kim Beomjin grabbed the bat near the end of the handle.
He was choking down as little as possible, making the bat effectively longer.
His high school batting average was somewhere in the mid-.300s.
He also had a few home runs.
And since he was feeling good today, he was confident.
Choi Seong smiled from the mound.
Almost as though he'd been waiting specifically for him.
Kim Beomjin couldn't lose.
After all, Choi Seong was supposed to be someone with less talent and potential than him from the very beginning.
There had to be an opening somewhere.
Kim Beomjin gripped the bat tightly.
So he's trying to hit a home run.
Interesting.
In my previous life, I'd found Kim Beomjin incredibly annoying.
He was absurdly good at playing politics and always managed to enjoy the rewards produced by the team.
There were only a limited number of pitches I could throw right now.
A fastball and a slider.
Trying to survive as a starter with only those two pitches would be difficult.
I'd have to develop new pitches that suited this fresh, healthy body.
Yoon Jaejun was calling for a slider.
A slider breaking outside.
But was this really the time to increase the pitch count?
Absolutely not.
Judging from their lineup, if Park Seoha came in after me, this game would probably end by the mercy rule.
I shook my head.
He kept calling for an outside pitch.
I kept shaking him off.
Eventually, Yoon Jaejun came walking out to the mound.
"We need to waste one. Kim Beomjin's a good pitcher, but he's not a bad hitter either. Let's throw him a chase pitch and see what kind of condition he's in."
"Really? Sorry, but my shoulder's pretty expensive today."
"What?"
I meant it.
I had absolutely no intention of sacrificing myself for the team and getting injured again.
That didn't mean I planned on giving up the game either.
"Every pitch you're catching from me right now is going to be worth a million dollars someday. Just stay behind the plate and sit still. I'll decide what to throw."
Then I added,
"By the way, you didn't seem able to catch my slider properly earlier."
Yoon Jaejun's face turned red.
During the warm-up pitches earlier, he hadn't been able to catch my slider properly.
No.
More accurately, he simply hadn't adjusted to it yet.
There was a limit to what a catcher could do against a pitch spinning at more than 3,000 RPM.
"Yeah... Fine. We'll play today's game however you want. But next time, talk it over with me first."
"Sure. Once the pitcher coming in after me becomes somewhat useful."
Surprisingly, Yoon Jaejun, who looked like he'd be stubborn, accepted my decision rather easily.
"And just so you know, I'm only letting you do this because you hit that home run earlier. You really are impressive. Kim Beomjin didn't give up a single home run last year."
"Really?"
I gave an indifferent nod.
Kim Beomjin's pitches were definitely difficult to hit because of their velocity.
But if you managed to square one up, you could send it over the fence.
What about him as a hitter?
From what I remembered...
When I'd hit more than twenty home runs in MLB, Kim Beomjin had barely managed to keep his batting average above .100.
Batting depended heavily on feel.
If you had even a decent baseball IQ, you could usually figure out what you needed to do to reach base.
This time, I applied a little more rosin.
The more rosin I used, the more efficiently I could transfer my grip strength into faster rotation on the ball.
In simple terms, it gave me the effect of slightly stronger grip strength.
My body's growth hadn't completely finished yet.
So I needed to adjust everything to my current body.
I relaxed my shoulder.
I couldn't help smiling.
This wasn't MLB, where I had to throw with everything I had every single pitch.
I could actually control my intensity here.
A fastball in the mid-140s flew straight through the middle of the strike zone.
Kim Beomjin must have thought it was his chance because he swung with everything he had.
Clang!
The horrible sound of the ball barely catching the bat rang out, and the ball floated into the infield.
Our friend Beomjin had made one serious mistake.
My pitch wasn't an ordinary four-seam fastball.
Because of its spin rate, it rose.
Judging from the fact that he'd swung without even considering the trajectory, he needed to learn to control his emotions a little better.
"Out!"
The umpire's voice rang out.
The other hitters were just as easy to deal with.
Both teams went down in order in the second and third innings.
"This really is an overwhelming pitchers' duel... Has our school ever had a game like this before...?"
Coach Park Seonghyeon kept muttering to himself as though he had been possessed by a ghost.
I lightly patted our coach on the shoulder.
"It's going to be like this from now on, Coach."
"Huh..."
"So how about we start practicing our batting seriously?"
He weakly nodded.
"How can a person change this much...? It's almost like you're a completely different person... Even if puberty or middle-school syndrome hit you, how could your actual ability change this drastically...? It's almost like I'm watching the life story of Omo Hideo. Do you know the pitcher Omo Hideo? He was Japan's first Major League pitcher, and..."
Coach Park Seonghyeon's long speech began again.
Damn it.
I quickly took off my glove, put on my batting gloves, and escaped.
Top of the fourth.
Kim Beomjin was still pitching for the other team.
Looking at his face was pretty entertaining.
He was glaring at me with his face flushed red.
He looked like a cornered rat.
Kim Beomjin went into his windup and delivered the first pitch.
Judging by the way it broke, it was a slider.
And it was breaking completely outside.
Without hesitation, I swung.
Back in MLB, I'd once happened to have a conversation with Altuve, who was famous as a bad-ball hitter.
There was one thing I'd realized while listening to him explain his hitting approach.
A good chase pitch brushes past the strike-zone trajectory.
And pitchers who had reached MLB were capable of throwing that kind of quality chase pitch as a basic skill.
In fact, apparently it could be harder to hit bad balls in Triple-A or Double-A.
The pitchers there often didn't have the sharp enough command to make their chase pitches barely skim the strike zone.
But an angry Kim Beomjin could do it.
He was considered the number-one pick in this year's draft.
If he couldn't even manage something like this, Korean baseball might as well have regressed a hundred years.
Clang!
I pulled the slider even though it was breaking completely outside.
The ball flew far into the distance.
From the corner of my vision, I saw Coach Gu and the Jeil High players scrambling out of their dugout.
