The Prodigy Who Rejected the Major League Chapter 16

Chapter 16

 

From the 4th through the 7th inning.

Seongwoon High put their leadoff hitter on base in the 6th and 7th with a hit and a walk, and Heesu High did the same in the 5th and 6th.

And as if they had agreed beforehand, both managers repeatedly called for sacrifice bunts.

Unlike the 4th inning, every sacrifice bunt succeeded. Each time, they traded one out to move the runner into scoring position at second base.

But that was as far as it went.

Seongwoon, who needed an insurance run.

Heesu, who needed the tying run.

Both teams kept failing to score.

 

Top of the 8th, Seongwoon at bat

Kim Jangyeon was still on the mound for Heesu High.

“Seongjun, start loosening up.”

Coach Park told me to keep my shoulder warm.

“What about my at-bat?”

The lineup was turning over to the top. If even one runner got on base, it would come back around to me.

“Even if it gets to you, do you think they’ll pitch to you?”

I had to agree.

There are no absolutes in baseball… But they probably wouldn’t face me. In the 6th, they had already intentionally walked me.

And in the late innings, one run is enormous.

Leadoff hitter Yoo Junho was hit by a pitch and took first.

Once again, the leadoff man was on base.

Coach Hwang immediately called Jin Uwon from the on-deck circle and gave him quick instructions.

At this point, there was nothing to predict.

It was a sacrifice bunt.

Jin Uwon succeeded on the first pitch, moving the runner to second.

[We’re really seeing a lot of bunts from both teams today.]

Then, No. 3 hitter Jeong Dongju lifted the ball high into the outfield.

While Heesu’s right fielder made the catch, Yoo Junho tagged up and advanced to third.

[Automatic intentional walk. They’re passing Song Seongjun again.]

[This looks similar to the situation in the 6th inning, doesn’t it?]

In the 6th, they had intentionally walked Song Seongjun with one out and a runner on second, filling first base.

Now in the 8th, with two outs and a runner on third, they walked him again to fill first.

[Manager Woo Taegeon of Heesu High is choosing to face Jang Sanghyeon once more.]

[That’s the obvious choice.]

[Jang Sanghyeon does have one walk today, but in his other two plate appearances, he hit ground balls. In the 6th, one of those was a double play.]

Just like the commentators predicted.

Jang Sanghyeon’s hit once again failed to escape the infield. And so, the top of the 8th ended for Seongwoon without a run.

 

***

 

Bottom of the 8th, On defense.

As scheduled, I took the mound.

Thankfully I had loosened up with catch beforehand.

Since I had been on base when the inning ended, I nearly didn’t have enough time to warm up.

“Song Seongjun! Song Seongjun!”

“Shut it down and win it!”

“Song Seongjun! Fighting!”

From the infield stands near our dugout…

Parents, relatives, alumni uncles, and current students shouted their support.

Until the semifinals, the cheering had been modest. Now that a real crowd had gathered, it felt completely different from the earlier games.

“Seongjun! Song Seongjun! 160!”

Even through the noise, I heard Seunghye’s voice… unbelievably high-pitched.

Good grief… What if she loses her voice like that?

Still, I figured I should show I heard her, so I raised my hand and waved.

Of course, 160 km/h was impossible right now.

But this time, I had built my body properly from early on. I’d probably grow more over the next two years. Maybe it wouldn’t be impossible.

Though I didn’t plan on focusing solely on pitching, so who knew.

Anyway… now was the time to focus.

Catch had loosened me up, but it wasn’t enough.

Right now, all 8 warm-up pitches mattered.

I extended my glove hand toward the catcher.

‘Fastball.’

Even during warmups, you signal your pitch. You can’t just throw breaking balls with no warning… how would the catcher receive them?

First pitch: about 80% effort.

Pop.

Ignoring the murmuring crowd.

Second and third: similar effort.

I didn’t bother checking the corner of the scoreboard.

Probably around 130.

The fourth pitch, I added more power… and checked.

[140 km/h]

Not bad.

Right where I expected.

Heesu’s leadoff hitter in the on-deck circle stared at the board, tilting his head.

Next, I signaled two-seam, hand forward, slight sideways flick.

Just one.

Pop.

“Senior! That’s good!”

Minsu praised loudly, though the movement wasn’t that sharp.

I had taken something off it anyway.

Then I shook my glove both sides, changeup.

After all eight warmups, Heesu’s leadoff hitter Son Saeyoung stepped in.

First pitch: 152 km/h four-seamer to the outer low corner against the right-handed batter.

Swing and miss.

“Swing! Strike!”

He tilted his head again.

But whether he tilted it or not…

I kept my rhythm fast.

Maybe it was because I’d gotten used to MLB’s pitch clock, but I also didn’t want to give hitters time to think.

Second pitch: slightly elevated two-seamer inside.

Another swing and miss.

[150 km/h]

“Swing! Strike two!”

Pitching location doesn’t need to be complicated.

I’d shown him the four-seamer low and away. So the two-seamer inside and up was the natural complement.

Third pitch:

Same release height as the previous two-seam.

But it was a changeup.

Too high?

Doesn’t matter.

This wasn’t a circle change. It was a kick changeup.

A kick change has a sharp vertical drop, usually 5–7 inches (12.7–17.78 cm). On good days, I’ve made it drop 10 inches (25.4 cm).

“Swing! Strikeout!”

I didn’t expect him to swing three times, though.

Had he come in determined to attack early?

Either way, three pitches, one out… thank you very much.

 

Next up: Yoo Seungjin.

He had an RBI hit in the first inning, and another well-struck ball was stopped by Yoo Junho’s great defensive play.

Probably the most dangerous hitter in Heesu’s lineup today.

But I had no intention of avoiding him.

Not because I underestimated him as a high schooler.

‘I’ve got a good feel on the ball today too.’

This time, I decided to invest first.

I gave Minsu the sign that I would go inside the batter’s body, then immediately delivered the pitch.

A two-seam fastball isn’t meant to generate swings and misses.

Its real purpose is to induce a ground ball.

It would be perfect if he’d make contact on the first pitch.

“Swing! Strike!”

But there was a considerable gap between the batter’s swing and the ball’s trajectory.

What was that? Haha.

Was he sitting on the first pitch with a guess-hitting approach?

Otherwise, there was no way that kind of ridiculous swing would come out.

Fine.

If what you wanted was a real fastball…

I chose the outside corner for the second pitch.

The pitching design this time was simple.

Against the first batter, I had thrown a four-seam first, then a two-seam.

This time, I simply reversed the order: two-seam first, four-seam second.

Bang!

A 155 km/h fastball tore in and clipped the lower edge of the zone.

Of course, I hadn’t aimed for that exact corner.

I meant to throw it low, but if someone could intentionally hit that precise spot every time, they wouldn’t be human.

“Strike two!”

At the plate, I saw Yoo Seungjin’s eyes widen.

Maybe it’s because they’re high schoolers. Their expressions are raw. Honest. Unfiltered.

‘Minsu. Changeup this time.’

I’d just shown him a fastball on the outer low corner.

Now I intended to drop the changeup along the same outside lane, but from slightly higher than the fastball he had just seen.

Hitters with exaggerated leg kicks usually struggle against breaking pitches. Yoo Seungjin was no exception. The scouting report from the coach had said the same thing.

It was worth testing.

Even if he didn’t follow it, that was fine.

In that case, I could simply treat it as a setup pitch for something inside.

I went into my windup.

Then I released the changeup with a form polished over more than twenty years… combining the years before regression and the years after.

Yoo Seungjin’s bat came through.

At that precise moment, the ball fell straight down as if gravity had suddenly intensified.

A huge swing and miss.

Exactly as I had imagined… completely off in timing.

 

[Song Seong-jun! He comes onto the mound in the 8th inning and strikes out both batters swinging! That changeup has tremendous drop!]

[Yes. That’s not a circle change or a typical changeup movement. I’d like to see the replay.]

As expected from a sports cable broadcast, the replay came immediately.]

[He’s gripping it with the middle and ring fingers like a two-seam… Oh? He’s pressing with the middle finger. That’s completely unexpected.]

[Does that change things?]

[Yes. That grip creates a kick changeup. Even in the U.S., not many pitchers throw it.]

[Really? So he’s using a rarely thrown pitch? Is that risky?]

[No, it’s not dangerous. In fact, it’s safer than a slider or splitter.]

[Then what’s the catch?]

[It’s extremely difficult to control. The grip itself is uncomfortable, and it takes much longer to master than most other pitches.]

 

The act of throwing it is simple.

You throw it just like a fastball.

It’s called a kick changeup because at the final moment of release, the pitcher ‘kicks’ the ball off the raised middle finger. That alters the axis of rotation, creating both lateral and vertical movement. Because its spin rate is lower than a circle change, the Magnus effect exaggerates the vertical drop.

As with most specialty pitches, command is difficult.

And there is a much easier alternative: the splitter.

I don’t know why I ended up sticking with the kick changeup.

Before regression, when I converted to pitching, I needed a breakthrough. That was when I first encountered it.

I tried hard.

I failed.

Maybe I just couldn’t let go of the regret of never mastering it after so many years of effort.

After regression, I transitioned to being a position player. I only took the mound occasionally to eat innings in garbage time.

So I threw it lightly, without pressure.

Perhaps that’s how, across two lives, I ended up throwing it for over twenty years.

If you keep at something long enough… eventually, it works.

That doesn’t mean I’m perfect now.

Even the feel in my hand isn’t identical to before regression.

Still, I believed I could adapt quickly.

My mind remembered the sensation.

Anyway.

That made two outs.

Against Heesu High’s third batter, I went with the same repertoire.

One thing I learned in the major leagues was this:

Elite pitchers keep their pitch locations extremely simple.

Of course, that’s only possible because their stuff supports it.

But…

I have that kind of stuff too, don’t I?

First, secure two strikes with a low outside four-seam and a slightly elevated inside two-seam.

Then drop the kick changeup in the zone.

But this time, it was a mistake.

I knew it the instant it left my hand.

And when a kick changeup misses its spot, it becomes batting practice.

Crack!

But baseball is a sport where not every well-hit ball becomes a hit.

A line drive straight at the third baseman.

Did the god of BABIP step in?

“Out!”

The third out went up.

“Whew!”

I exhaled and gave third baseman Jin Uwon a thumbs-up.

“Uwon, thanks!”

In the top of the ninth, our offense went down in order.

In the bottom of the ninth, Heesu High’s final attack began with the bottom of the lineu … seventh, eighth, and ninth hitters.

Still, we couldn’t relax.

No one knows when, or how, a variable might appear.

What we needed was a strikeout.

If the ball never goes into play, there are no variables.

I struck out both the seventh and eighth batters.

In the process, my pitch count climbed.

Maybe because they sensed it was the end, Heesu High’s hitters were stubborn.

When one of them fouled off a 155 km/h fastball, I applauded inwardly.

One last out remained.

A left-handed pinch hitter stepped in.

I held the advantage: one ball, two strikes.

“Seongwoon! Song Seongjun! Seongwoon! Song Seongjun!”

“One! One! One!”

Our cheering section was united, roaring for that final out.

Across the field, Heesu’s fans chanted desperately.

“Please! Home run!”

“Home run!”

The score remained 4–3.

One swing could tie the game.

For Heesu and their supporters, that was the most straightforward solution.

But they seemed not to consider how difficult it truly is to come cold off the bench and immediately get a hit.

And I intended to give everything I had.

Parents from both schools.

Alumni.

Current students.

Seunghye had told me… she had never won a championship during her high school years.

Before regression, I had never experienced the romance of winning.

In three years of high school baseball…

Shouldn’t I win at least once?

I gave Minsu the sign beneath his catcher’s mask.

“Phew…”

I took a deep breath.

Windup.

With everything I had.

I fixed my eyes solely on Choi Minsu’s mitt and released the ball.

It may have been the pitch into which I poured the most strength of my life.

Swoooooosh!

Bang!

The mitt exploded with sound.

“Swing! Strikeout! Game over!”

The umpire declared the end.

We were the final champions of this year’s President’s Cup.

“Waaaaaaah!”

Everyone charged onto the field.

“We won!”

But their eyes were terrifying… shining wildly, almost unhinged.

“Sunbae!”

I ran off the mound.

“…Hey!”

[160 km/h]

The speed of my final pitch blazed across the scoreboard.