TBITWAM 03

Episode 3

Scout Lee Jong-hwa, standing in his suit, looked at us and opened his mouth.

“First, I would like to express my gratitude to the players who have come to take the ER Hawks second-string developmental player tryout.”

Flipping through the tablet in his hand, Lee Jong-hwa continued.

“Today’s tryout will be for pitchers only. We plan to thoroughly examine the participating pitchers, starting with a basic physical fitness test and then moving on to pitching.”

Tough, huh?

It seemed like getting picked as a developmental player or for the second team was actually harder than the rookie draft for the first team.

Either way, as long as I get picked, that’s all that matters.

“Well then, I wish you all good results.”

With Scout Lee Jong-hwa’s final words, the tryout began.

The very first thing was the basic physical fitness evaluation. Long-distance running, push-ups, etc. It wasn’t difficult. It was an evaluation that any baseball player who continuously maintained their body could pass easily.

Of course, among them, I could confidently say I was overwhelming.

Thanks to running every morning and consistently doing strength training, I came in first in my group in both long-distance running and push-ups.

“The first place in the physical evaluation is Chae Gang-woo.”

At that moment, the players in high school uniforms buzzed.

“Chae Gang-woo? The one who was the first pick in the high school draft?”
“Uh, yeah, that’s right. I heard he ruined his shoulder and can’t play baseball anymore.”

That was understandable. I, who was famously the first pick in the draft, had my shoulder ruined and wasn’t even nominated in the draft, let alone being the first pick.

“Wasn’t he called a baseball genius? You really never know about people’s lives. A guy who was the first draft pick, now taking a developmental player tryout.”

Right before my stomach could churn, Scout Lee Jong-hwa called me.

“Player Chae Gang-woo please get ready.”

Yeah. Now, with everyone’s eyes on me, was the perfect timing.

To show them my new self.

“Huh? Is that really Chae Gang-woo? He’s a right-handed pitcher, right?”

I paused at the voices I heard.

“Yeah, he was right-handed. When he was on, he’d hit 155 km/h and his ball was good too. Sharp control.”
“Well, whatever, with his shoulder ruined, he can’t pitch, can he? But can he actually throw?”
“He probably can’t. They probably just called him because there was so much fuss about Chae Gang-woo?”
“What if he throws and barely hits 140? It’s amazing he showed up knowing he’d be humiliated.”
“Maybe it’s a last struggle? There are a lot of those types. Guys who don’t think about reality and are just obsessed with their past selves.”

Then the group in high school uniforms burst into laughter simultaneously.

The sight of a fallen ace seemed to be nothing but gossip to them.

Crazy bastards. Is other people’s misfortune that funny to you?

I gritted my teeth. I wanted to say something to those guys judging me so recklessly, but I held back.

Because for guys like that, showing them with actions works better than words.

“When you’re ready, please say so.”

I shouted as soon as Scout Lee Jong-hwa finished speaking.

“I’ll begin.”

There was no hesitation. Glove in hand, I walked towards the mound.

“Whew.”

I stepped onto the mound. The hard plate felt beneath my toes made my blood boil. It was a preciousness I had never considered before.

Thud, thud. I kicked the plate a few times with my foot and turned my head towards where the catcher was. Everyone’s gaze was fixed on me.

Then, I grinned.

From now on, it was showtime.

I put on my glove. Then I could feel the people watching me buzzing. It was only natural.

Because the hand I was putting the glove on now was my right hand, not my left.

“Huh? Chae Gang-woo is right-handed, right?”
“Yeah, that’s what I know too.”
“He can throw with his left too?!”

Yeah, that’s right, you bastards.

With a smile on my lips, I slowly closed my eyes and then opened them.

I gripped the ball in my left hand. Gripping the ball with my left hand didn’t feel unfamiliar anymore. That was proof of how much effort I had put in.

Confidence surged. I gripped the ball with my fingertips, pressing down as if stamping it. Then, I became curious.

If I threw this ball, what kind of expressions would those people who had been mocking me with faces full of ridicule make?

Taking a deep breath, I slowly lifted my right leg. My body naturally moved on its own, following the motion I had done countless times.

I held my breath right there. At the same time, I stepped forward with the leg that had risen to waist height. The ball was thrown as if a bullet shot out from my hand.

At the same time, with a thwack, the ball rolled tumbling across the ground.

“Ah. My mistake.”

Even though the ball clearly headed straight down the middle, the catcher couldn’t catch it. The catcher looked confused.

“Why… couldn’t I catch it?”

The catcher muttered to himself, seemingly lost in thought as if analyzing. I forcibly held down the corners of my mouth that were rising.

The ball was definitely flying towards the left. But the ball, which had floated up, suddenly changed direction towards the right.

That wasn’t all. The ball, which seemed almost weightless, floated in the air and then suddenly dropped down.

He would have reached out his glove thinking he could catch it, but the ball thudded against the catcher’s mitt and fell. The expression of the catcher blankly staring at the ball rolling on the ground was peculiar.

“What’s this? The ball looked good? He can’t catch it?”

I heard a voice, whether it was a coach or someone else. Then the catcher quickly got back into position.

I prepared to throw the ball again. This time, I intended to perfectly plant the high-speed knuckle ball into the catcher’s mitt.

I gripped the baseball again with my left fingertips. This time, I planned to properly hold my breath and simplify my pitching motion.

To show a proper high-speed knuckle ball.

“Here it goes.”

At my words, the eyes of everyone inside the training facility were fixed on me.

Since they were watching so intently, I had to show them even better. That I wasn’t dead yet.

My leg lifted again. I pushed the baseball touching my fingertips straight towards the catcher.

The ball leaving my fingertips had no spin. It moved as if pushed by the wind. That didn’t mean it was slow, though.

Whoosh-. The ball, flying in a bizarre trajectory, soon thwacked and stuck to the catcher’s mitt.

Thwack-!

At the same time, silence flowed.

Everyone just stared at me with their mouths open, as if they couldn’t believe what they had just seen.

Soon, the silence was broken.

“Was that… a knuckle ball just now?”
“It doesn’t go down the middle, but it ghosts right along the borderline?”
“What the f*ck, I can’t even see the ball? Isn’t that really a mystery ball?”

Mystery ball.

At that word, a hollow laugh escaped me. Then the catcher, seeming flustered, took off his mask and asked.

“Wait, you, how did you throw that?!”

How did I throw it?

“…I just threw it, and it came out that way?”

At that, not only the catcher but even the pitchers who had been badmouthing me were astonished.

As I lifted my head and scanned the surroundings, two people came into my view.

One was Director Yoon Sung-geun, and next to him stood a man who looked to be around the same age as Scout Lee Jong-hwa.

Soon, I could identify the man. Ahn Chung-hee. A legendary pitcher who dominated the KBO when I first started baseball.

Judging by the jacket with the ER Hawks logo on it, he seemed to be a coach.

“Director, what I just saw… is it real?”

Coach Ahn Chung-hee asked as if muttering. Next to him, Director Yoon Seong-geun, who had been standing with his arms crossed, laughed heartily.

“I told you. That an interesting guy would come.”

As if to say his eye for talent was never wrong, Director Yoon Seong-geun kept his gaze fixed on me.

‘Interesting guy.’

With Director Yoon Seong-geun’s words, I joined the team as a developmental player.

To a professional baseball team, the ER Hawks!

I had no time to think about anything else. I wanted to deliver this news first. To my parents, who were waiting for me more than anyone.

“Mom! Dad!!”

I flung open the arcade door. At my voice, my parents, who had been sitting at the counter, jumped up.

“It’s raining!”
“Did you make it? You punk, did you make it?!”

Mom was already crying, and Dad, despite his hands trembling violently, was asking, pretending to be calm.

While I was playing baseball, my parents never once put pressure on me. They poured enormous amounts of money into it without any conditions, they ran the arcade while cutting back on sleep, but they never once acted as if they were doing me a favor, saying I should pay them back later or that they were sacrificing so much for my baseball.

I didn’t know when I was young. How expensive gloves were. When other friends brought new gloves, I would childishly beg my parents to buy me a new one too. And each time, my parents would just say “work hard” and buy it for me.

Even when my shoulder was hurt, even when I heard I couldn’t play baseball anymore, my parents worried about me more than anything.

“Hey, I passed.”

I forced down the surging emotions and smiled brightly.

“I’m joining the second team as a developmental player for the ER Hawks starting next week!”
“Really, is it really true?”
“I’m telling you! Don’t worry from now on. I’ll really work hard and make it to the first team. And on the day I become a starting pitcher, I’ll invite Mom and Dad to the stadium.”

Mom hugged me tight, and Dad laughed heartily and shouted.

“Yeah, as if I can wait that long? Our son made it to the pros!”

It had been a long time. Seeing Dad laugh so innocently, and Mom rejoice like a child.

Then, I felt so grateful to Director Yoon Sung-geun, who had reached out to me when I was thrown into hell. The high school coaches and directors, who had watched me all along, turned their backs on me.

But he chose me based on just a possibility.

“I really have to do well.”

The only way to repay Director Yoon Sung-geun was to show him. So he wouldn’t regret picking me.

And that night, no, until dawn the next day. I threw the ball. In an empty lot with no one around, I repeated gripping and throwing the ball.

Whoosh-. Whoosh-.

The feeling of the ball pushing off my fingertips was so good it gave me goosebumps. Now, I was used to throwing using not just my shoulder, but my shoulder, arm, joints, and fingertips all together.

“It’s called a knuckle ball, right?”

They say it’s easy to learn, but rare to succeed. Even in our country, only about two or three baseball players have thrown it properly. And even they were far below the major league level.

Even in the majors, only about three or four pitchers use the knuckle ball properly. And even among them, some didn’t have the knuckle ball as their main pitch.

But could I really do it? Moreover, could I consistently throw the high-speed knuckle ball that Director Yoon Sung-geun wanted?

A laugh burst out. It wasn’t a laugh of hopelessness or absurdity.

It wasn’t a question of ‘can I do it’ or ‘should I do it’. For someone pulled up from a desperate situation more than anyone else, the answer was only one.

“I have to do it.”

It was a laugh of confidence, believing I could naturally do it.

High-speed knuckle ball. That’s nothing, I’ll just do it.

If no one has done it before, I’ll just be the first.

“I’ll do it!”

And with that high-speed knuckle ball, I was going to conquer the KBO.

Even if it’s an empty lot now, soon the day will come when I throw the ball in a stadium. No, I was going to make that happen.

“Just one year. I will definitely step onto the stadium mound as a starting pitcher within one year!”

Now, it was truly the beginning.

D–365.

It was the D-Day until the day I rise to the first team, become a starting pitcher, and lead the team to victory.