The Strongest Catcher in History, Episode 4
4. Tryout (2)
"Any kids worth a damn? Give me the morning test records."
"Here they are."
Lee Jeong-hwan, the Hawks' minor league manager, took the record sheets the pitching coach handed him and slowly read through them.
The tests conducted under the coaches' supervision all morning—the 100-meter dash, the 5-kilometer run, tee batting, and practice pitching—were recorded in detail by position. Quite a large number of participants meant verifying all of them would take a while, but this wasn't something he could skim through, so Lee Jeong-hwan focused intently and examined each line carefully. That said, the slight tremor in his brow suggested the test results weren't particularly good.
"Tsk..."
As Lee Jeong-hwan clicked his tongue in disappointment while reviewing the sheets, the pitching coach beside him, Lee Jung-hyeon, who had been watching, let out a disappointed sound of his own, seemingly grasping what it meant.
"They're all undrafted signees, aren't they, Manager."
The players written on the sheets mostly had similar test results. If their 100-meter dash times were outstanding, then without fail their tee batting records were terrible. If their tee batting was decent, they were all scrubs across the board. The pitchers who were pumping heaters in practice throwing had no command, and the pitchers who had command could barely average 130 km/h on their fastballs.
Tryouts were, to put it harshly, a matter of finding treasure in a garbage dump, so he knew it wouldn't be easy—Lee Jeong-hwan himself, who had been around the baseball world for over twenty years, knew that better than anyone. But knowing something and seeing it firsthand were two entirely different feelings, and as he finished reading every sheet, a sigh naturally escaped his lips.
"Sigh... No matter how you slice it, there are too few usable players. Did you happen to keep an eye on anyone?"
Yang Tae-gwan, the first-team manager currently overseeing final training in Okinawa, was also keeping an eye on the tryout results, and if they came up empty-handed, he would definitely catch an earful. The pitching coach, well aware of that fact, recommended a few names he had flagged in advance.
"Wouldn't Bae Seong-ung be the best of the bunch? His velocity is still there."
"But he's got control you couldn't fix even if you killed him and brought him back to life. Has it gotten any better?"
"That's... we'll have to work on it slowly."
The chances of fixing here the command he couldn't fix for thirteen years on other teams were slim to none, but raw velocity was an asset in itself, so Lee Jeong-hwan checked Bae Seong-ung's name with the highlighter in his hand and urged Lee Jung-hyeon to keep going.
"Hmm... Also, if you look further down, there's a catcher from Hanjundae named Hwang Su-chan. His legs and batting are fairly decent. He's twenty-four now, and from what I heard, he was good enough to be picked in the late rounds of last year's draft, but he wasn't selected due to injury."
"Hwang Su-chan... His legs are passable... His power is decent too... How's his defense?"
"I haven't checked that yet. Well... he's lacking experience, so I don't think you should expect much. Even if he's not good, we have to try developing him. Also, the only players worth testing in the minors are sidearmer Lee Gyeong-cheol, released from Suwon last year, and Seo Jae-ryong, who played in Busan. As for the rest, we'll only know after the Red-White Game ends."
Listening to Lee Jung-hyeon, Lee Jeong-hwan checked the names of Lee Gyeong-cheol, Seo Jae-ryong, and Hwang Su-chan, then pulled out a lineup sheet as if preparing for the afternoon's Red-White Game and began writing down the players' names.
"You're setting the lineup right now?"
"Yeah, I'll take charge of the tryout side, so you handle the minors' lineup and act as manager. A few guys came down from the first team for today's tryouts, so even if we pull the players who went to the finishing camp, we can somehow scrape together enough bodies. Oh, and tell Coach Park to look for an umpire on your way down."
At Lee Jeong-hwan's request to take on temporary managerial duties, Lee Jung-hyeon replied with enthusiasm.
"Yes, Manager!"
"Then I'll see you in thirty minutes."
"Yes, sir!"
"Play ball!"
At the umpire's call, everyone sitting in the third-base dugout turned their attention to the field. Kim Ji-hun, who had failed to make the starting lineup, also watched the field with an anxious heart.
'Am I a backup here too...?'
He hadn't imagined there would be another catcher. Of course, he would get chances, but if luck wasn't on his side, all his opportunities could vanish after a single pinch-hitting appearance. He couldn't help but feel disappointed.
'Well... they'll still give me a chance. I just need to do my job.'
Since this was a situation where he needed to grasp at straws, he pushed his disappointment aside and focused on the present. He watched the game with both eyes, gathering information, and began analyzing the opponent in his head.
The Hawks' leadoff batter was Lee Pil-mo.
'Lee Pil-mo is a typical minor league slap hitter. His contact is decent, but he can't drive the ball at all. His plate discipline isn't great either... against Bae Seong-ung's stuff, we can get him out easily.'
While endlessly running simulations in his head about what pitch sequence he would call if he were crouched behind the plate right now, Hwang Su-chan and Bae Seong-ung exchanged signs, and the latter threw the first pitch signaling the start of the game.
It was clearly a four-seamer. Whether it was a max-effort throw or not, the scoreboard read 150 km/h. True to his reputation, his command was a mess. Hwang Su-chan barely stretched his glove out to catch a ball that missed the strike zone by a wide margin.
"Ball!"
'We didn't need to go that far outside... if he just trusts his stuff and pumps it down the middle, it might work out somehow...'
Sure, Bae Seong-ung's control was poor, but Lee Pil-mo was ultimately a minor league batter. There was no way he could easily handle a pitch over 150 km/h. Besides, it was an ironclad truth known to everyone that the only thing you could expect from a pitcher like Bae Seong-ung was a battle of pure strength in the box.
However, contrary to Kim Ji-hun's thoughts, when the second pitch was thrown, Hwang Su-chan's mitt was positioned on the very edge of the zone.
"Ball!"
Bae Seong-ung tilted his head in confusion, and Hwang Su-chan wore a slightly troubled expression. If this had been an actual game, the dugout would have flashed a sign, but the manager stood with his arms crossed, clearly with no intention of doing so. In the end, a slider that missed badly put the count at 3-0, and only then did Bae signal to set the mitt dead center, but it was too late.
"Ball four! Take your base!"
A straight walk. The worst possible start.
"That's the way!"
Lee Pil-mo loosened his gear and sprinted toward first base, brimming with fighting spirit. From the perspective of the Hawks players currently taking the field, the tryout players were potential competitors. If they put a single foot wrong, they might be the ones participating in the tryouts next year. It was clear they had absolutely no intention of yielding their spots; the momentum of the Hawks' minor leaguers stepping into the batter's box was extraordinary.
The second batter, Seo Min-ho, took the bench's sign and laid down a successful bunt, putting a runner on second with one out.
The Hawks' third batter, Choi Chang-min, stepped into the box.
'We have to pitch him carefully.'
Just as Kim Ji-hun thought, Choi Chang-min was one of the few slugging prospects in the Hawks' minor league system. He had the power to overcome Bae Seong-ung's pitches. However, having already lost the initiative in calling the game, Hwang Su-chan was nothing more than a wall receiving the ball, fixing his mitt dead center according to Bae Seong-ung's lead.
*Crack!*
Knowing full well that the four-seamer would come right down the middle anyway, Choi Chang-min swung hard at the 1-1 count as if he had been waiting for it. A sharp single up the middle. The only saving grace was that the center fielder's backup play was quick enough to hold the runner at third.
One out, runners on first and third. At the plate was the cleanup hitter, Choi Hyeong-jun.
The Hawks' top hitting prospect, who had played as a DH and pinch hitter in the first team this year and hit eight home runs despite limited playing time.
By this point, the battery was getting desperate.
Thinking that a hit here would end it, Hwang Su-chan's mitt drifted to the side, perhaps trying to stay away. Bae Seong-ung, perhaps still seeing the hit he had given up to Choi Chang-min flickering before his eyes, chose a slider instead of a fastball.
The ball thrown with all his might broke horizontally in a spectacular fashion, succeeding in getting Choi Hyeong-jun's bat to chase... but perhaps Bae had put too much on it. The breaking slider clipped the bottom of the waiting mitt and skidded quickly backward.
"Go!"
At Choi Hyeong-jun's signal from the batter's box, Lee Pil-mo instantly broke for home plate, and Choi Chang-min headed for second base.
A combination of a pitcher with no command and a catcher lacking experience. As if demonstrating exactly how to exploit such a combination, the Hawks' batters began to hound the battery relentlessly.
...
"This isn't going to work."
Manager Lee Jeong-hwan, watching the game from the dugout, shook his head from side to side, seeing that it was no use.
It was only the bottom of the second, and the score was already 7-0. He should have known from the moment he heard the kid was a college graduate rookie... entrusting a game like this to a complete novice with zero professional experience and a year lost to rehab after college was asking too much.
It was just a practice game, so giving up a few runs didn't matter, but the problem was that they couldn't conduct a proper test like this. Either way, they had to fill nine innings, and other players needed to be tested too.
Having decided to make a change, Manager Lee Jeong-hwan checked the entry list he had written earlier once more. The name of an unreliable catcher—whose 100-meter time was near the bottom, whose 5-kilometer time was below average, and whose batting wasn't particularly outstanding—caught his eye.
"Kim Ji-hun."
"Yes, sir!"
"You're going in from the third inning, so get ready."
"Understood!"