The Greatest Catcher of All Time
Episode 006
6. What Is This Guy?
1.
'What the hell is that guy?'
The game had already passed the 6th inning. At this point, evaluations for most of the position players were nearly wrapped up, save for one or two pitchers waiting in the bullpen.
Manager Lee Jeong-hwan, who had been observing the players on the field with an eagle eye and densely filling out test sheets with their strengths, weaknesses, and value, paused and stared intently at Kim Ji-hoon, who was standing in the on-deck circle swinging his bat.
'The more I think about it, the stranger he is. His baserunning is basically scrap-tier, and his power doesn't match his frame at all... his injury history is flashy... No matter how much I think about it, his tools themselves seem completely unremarkable...'
Yet the moment that completely unremarkable guy was put in, the game changed 180 degrees. That much was an undeniable fact. When they were losing 7-0 in the 2nd inning, Manager Lee Jeong-hwan had taken his hands off the test sheets, thinking this year was shot too; but after seeing the performance from the 3rd inning onward, he picked up his pen again.
Bae Seong-ung, who had been issuing walks left and right and turning the mound into a sea of fire, transformed into a strikeout machine the moment the 3rd inning began, showing the stuff everyone had expected. And Seo Jae-ryong, who had looked like nothing more than minor league depth at best, pierced every corner of the zone as if Maddux himself had possessed him, inducing weak contact. And the person who had made all of that happen was exactly that guy.
'Is there something that doesn't show up in the stats...?'
For someone in the position of evaluating talent, nothing was more headache-inducing than this.
He had to evaluate whether Kim Ji-hoon's current performance was simply luck mixed with flukes, or if he truly possessed some kind of skill. But it was a situation where there was no answer key, even if he wanted to grade it.
Framing, pitch calling, chemistry with the pitcher. He excelled only in things that had no single correct answer.
Yet it was hard to call it luck because he was doing so well right now, but hard to call it skill because he had been so terrible in the morning.
'Ah, shit...'
Lee Jeong-hwan, who had been poking at the part of the sheet where Kim Ji-hoon's name was written with the pen he held, eventually postponed the evaluation, as if there were no answer. Manager Lee Jeong-hwan, who had marked a triangle at the bottom edge, turned his eyes once more to Kim Ji-hoon in the on-deck circle.
'For now, hold... Let's decide after seeing his hitting.'
..
"His slider's gotten even better. How do you hit that?"
Kim Ji-hoon, who had been watching the pitcher-batter duel from the on-deck circle while doing shadow batting, clicked his tongue in surprise at the pitcher's stuff.
The current pitcher for the Hawks was Jang Won-jae. A right-handed high-school graduate in his 4th pro year, he had debuted with the first team late in the season and posted a 4.52 ERA in 30 innings out of the bullpen, emerging as a future star for the Hawks. As if the assessment that there was nothing left for him to learn in the minors wasn't entirely baseless, he had taken the mound as the starter in the Red-White Game and was continuing a perfect outing: 5 innings, 65 pitches, 0 runs, 6 strikeouts. The same happened in this at-bat. In the brief moment Kim Ji-hoon let his eyes wander, Oh Jeong-hun, the tryout team's number 8 hitter, retreated with a weak out.
"Out!"
Perhaps because it was his first plate appearance, a heavy pressure weighed down on Kim Ji-hoon's shoulders. Kim Ji-hoon, who had been gripping his bat tightly and heading toward the batter's box, took a deep breath, as if trying to shake off that pressure, and steadied his mind anew.
"Hoo..."
The game had already passed the 6th inning. If there were opportunities, he'd get at most three more plate appearances—if the hitters before him kept being useless like now, only about two. He had to get a hit in at least one of those two. No, even if he couldn't get a hit, he had to reach first base.
If he couldn't do it, the result was obvious. No matter how important a catcher's defense was, they wouldn't pick a tryout player batting .000. With a vow to get on base somehow, Kim Ji-hoon stepped into the batter's box.
'What Jang Won-jae has: a four-seam fastball in the low-to-mid 140s km/h, a slider in the mid-130s, a changeup in the upper 120s. Judging by his current condition, his stuff is even better than before.'
Having faced him a few times in the minors during his Grizzlies days, he had some information on Jang Won-jae. The only question was whether Kim Ji-hoon had the ability to hit that stuff. That was all.
[Offensive Ability]
[Contact : D] [Power : C] [Plate Discipline : C]
Minor league stats: 33 games, batting average .216, 1 home run
Whether looking at it through Baseball Manager or his actual records, they were equally despairing hitting stats. Kim Ji-hoon knew his own abilities well, so he gripped the bat as short as possible and focused solely on reacting to the ball.
'Come.'
He set the batting stance he had changed to survive with the Grizzlies and raised his bat. A ridiculous stance where he lowered his waist as much as possible and tried to see the ball as close as he could. His average had been so low that it hadn't drawn attention, but looking only at the period after changing his form, his on-base percentage was nearly 100 points higher than his batting average.
He could do it. No, he had to do it.
After exchanging signs a few times, Jang Won-jae seemed ready, took his windup, and threw the ball hard.
'A four-seamer coming into the zone.'
Kim Ji-hoon swung the bat hard at the four-seamer that came in with good timing.
- Crack!
"Foul!"
'So close...'
It had been a near-mistake fastball, but his bat speed was lacking. Kim Ji-hoon, who had missed an opportunity he could have capitalized on, couldn't hide his regret and smacked his lips. Jang Won-jae also seemed surprised by his own mistake, let out a sigh of relief, and prepared his next pitch.
The second pitch came in hard, as if declaring there would be no more mistakes like before.
'It breaks. A slider. Should I swing?'
The trajectory itself entered his eyes, but the zone was precarious. While hesitating for a moment over whether to swing or not, his bat unconsciously went out on its own before Kim Ji-hoon even knew it. It was definitely a trajectory that a batter couldn't help but be tempted by. The location was just too good.
-Tak!
"Foul!"
"Agh!!"
A cry close to the scream of someone driven to the edge of a cliff flowed out. Already 0-2. One more strike and he's out. Jang Won-jae smiled slightly, as if thinking he already had the upper hand, contrasting with Kim Ji-hoon, who had a stiff expression with all his focus concentrated.
The third pitch followed. Jang Won-jae's next pitch was a slider breaking out of the zone. It broke so clearly that it was easy to tell whether he was just trying to throw one outside.
'This one breaks outside.'
"Ball!"
Kim Ji-hoon let out a sigh of relief at barely getting one past, and Jang Won-jae met his eyes, determined to end it with this next pitch. As the concentration of pitcher and batter reached its peak, Jang Won-jae went into his windup, seemingly having chosen his fourth pitch.
'Fastball? Is it?'
The ball flew in a straight line, reminiscent of the first pitch that had been close to a mistake. It was slightly confusing, but it was definitely the course Kim Ji-hoon had been thinking of. And there probably wasn't a batter who wouldn't swing at this pitch. He swung his bat vigorously, matching the timing of the ball's arrival. But sadly, the ball hadn't arrived yet.
'Shit, changeup. Hold!'
Caught completely by the off-speed of the changeup, Kim Ji-hoon tensed his waist and tried to stop his bat as much as possible. If he spun out like this, it was undoubtedly a strikeout. Just as he gritted his teeth and held on, as if heaven itself had rewarded him, a faint crack of the bat was heard right around the time his forcibly stopped rotation started to ache.
- Tick.
"Foul!!"
A narrow escape. Kim Ji-hoon, who had climbed back up by grabbing onto a branch growing from the edge of a cliff, let out a sigh of relief. Perhaps because the changeup he had thought would be the deciding pitch was fouled off, this time it was Jang Won-jae's expression that wrinkled.
Ball count 1-2. A battle that had seemed like it would end easily began to stretch unexpectedly long.
2.
-Tak!
"Foul!!"
At the foul call that came out once again, everyone in the dugout, whether on first or third, let out a word.
"Wow, that tenacious bastard."
"14? Or 15? He's really gritty."
The foul relay that had continued from the 1-2 count had now reached the 16th pitch. Kim Ji-hoon now stood in the batter's box swinging his bat in the air as if confidence had taken hold of him—his appearance was unusual. The count was still 3-2, a count still standing at the edge of a cliff, but Kim Ji-hoon's bat showed no hesitation. On the other hand, Jang Won-jae, who seemed agitated after seeing every weapon in his arsenal turned into fouls, exchanged signs with the catcher much more seriously than before.
'Baseball Manager.'
Kim Ji-hoon, feeling the power of Baseball Manager even more intensely than when he had used Spider Hand—no, than when using Spider Hand—readjusted his grip and waited for the 16th pitch.
That's just how hitting in baseball is. A .300 hitter representing the league can have hitless games, and a .200 hitter known as the worst in the league can have three-hit games. If you keep swinging the bat, a hitting cycle naturally forms. Humans aren't machines, and during games, the carefully built hitting form inevitably collapses without one realizing it, so in a way, it's a natural phenomenon.
'The daily quest is helping at a time like this.'
Meanwhile, the daily 500-swing quest that Kim Ji-hoon had been carrying out for the past fortnight. This quest only counted swings when they used the form he originally pursued. In other words, he had maintained the best form he could show for over a fortnight.
Thanks to that, Kim Ji-hoon's hitting feel was at its peak, and his hitting form, which thoroughly focused only on getting on base—ignoring breaking balls and fighting off difficult pitches—created a strange synergy. His hitting ability was hopeless either way, so he couldn't knock hits out, but he could somehow endure.
'Here it comes.'
After exchanging signs with the catcher for a while, Jang Won-jae pulled together all his strength as if this was truly the last one, and the slider he threw came curving in with an arrow-like trajectory. The speed and break were unquestionably flawless. However, Kim Ji-hoon was not an inexperienced batter who would be fooled by a pitcher's breaking ball after having faced him 15 times already.
'This one definitely breaks outside.'
As Kim Ji-hoon held back his bat that had gone out about a third of the way, the umpire's hand went up behind him.
"Ball four! Take your base!!"
"That's it!!"
With Kim Ji-hoon's cry filled with joy at surviving on the edge of a cliff, the outcome of the gruelingly long pitcher-batter battle was decided.
…
'What the hell is that guy?'
Lee Jeong-hwan, who had watched Kim Ji-hoon's at-bat from beginning to end in detail, shook his head back and forth as if he truly didn't know.
After 16 pitches, he had properly shaken up a perfect pitcher and eventually gotten on base. The pitcher who had been aiming for a complete game shutout would now have to come down after just 6 innings, so judging by face value alone, it was a battle worthy of an indisputable A+.
The problem was the process.
Watching him foul off every pitch that came in crisply, his contact seemed incredible, yet he completely missed mistakes that died right in the middle of the zone. His contact seemed good but was subtly bad.
In the end, since he got on base via a walk, his plate discipline seemed like it could receive a passing score, but in truth, he had fouled off balls he didn't need to swing at numerous times. His plate discipline seemed good but was subtly bad.
"Ah, I really don't know."
Lee Jeong-hwan, caught in worry over what kind of evaluation to give, finally seemed to make up his mind and drew another inverted triangle over the triangle he had marked earlier.
A star mark was engraved above Kim Ji-hoon's name.