Chapter 3
Lee Jong-hwa, the scout standing before us in a suit, opened his mouth.
“First, I would like to express my gratitude to the players who have come to take the ER Hawks 2nd team developmental player test.”
Flipping through the tablet in his hand, Lee Jong-hwa continued.
“Today’s test is for pitchers only. We intend to examine the participating pitchers thoroughly today, from basic physical fitness tests to pitching.”
This is tough?
Compared to the rookie draft that selects for the 1st team, getting picked as a developmental player or for the 2nd team seemed even harder.
But whatever. As long as I got picked, that was all that mattered.
“Then, I hope you all achieve good results.”
With Scout Lee Jong-hwa’s final words, the test began.
The first item was the basic physical fitness assessment. Long-distance running, push-ups, and the like weren’t difficult. It was an evaluation that any baseball player constantly honing his body could easily pass.
Of course, among them, I dared say I was overwhelming.
Because I ran every morning and consistently did strength training, I was first in my group in both the long-distance run and the push-ups.
“First place in the physical fitness assessment is Chae Gang-woo.”
At that moment, the players wearing high school uniforms began to murmur.
“Chae Gang-woo? Wasn’t he the first overall pick in the high school draft?”
“Yeah, yeah. That’s right. I heard he tore his shoulder and couldn’t play baseball anymore.”
It was understandable. I, who had been renowned as the first overall draft pick, had ended up with a shredded shoulder and failed to receive so much as a nomination, let alone be selected first overall.
“Didn’t they call him a baseball prodigy? You really never know what life has in store. A guy who was the first overall draft pick is now taking a developmental player test.”
Just as I was about to explode inside, Scout Lee Jong-hwa called my name.
“Player Chae Gang-woo, please prepare.”
That’s right. With everyone’s eyes fixed on me now was the perfect timing.
To show them my new self.
“Huh? It really is Chae Gang-woo? He’s a right-hander, right?”
I faltered at the voice I heard.
“Yeah, he was a righty. When his velocity was good, he’d even touch 155 km/h, and his stuff was nasty. Pinpoint control, too.”
“Well, so what? His shoulder’s shredded so he can’t pitch. But can he even throw a ball for real?”
“He probably can’t. They probably just called him here because there was so much hype around Chae Gang-woo back in the day.”
“What if he throws and barely touches 140? It’s impressive he even showed up knowing he was going to get humiliated.”
“Is this like a final, desperate struggle? There are plenty of guys like that. Guys drunk on their past selves without thinking about reality.”
Then the group in high school uniforms burst into laughter all at once.
The sight of an ace who had fallen into the abyss seemed to be nothing more than gossip fodder to them.
Crazy bastards. Is someone else’s misfortune that entertaining?
I gritted my teeth. I wanted to say something to those self-righteous evaluators, but I held back.
Because with guys like that, actions worked better than words.
“Please tell me to begin when you are ready.”
Before Scout Lee Jong-hwa could even finish speaking, I shouted.
“I will begin.”
There was no hesitation. Gripping my glove, I walked toward the mound.
“Hoo.”
I set foot on the mound. The hard plate beneath the tips of my toes made my blood boil. It was a preciousness I had never even considered before.
Tap, tap. I kicked the plate a few times with my foot and then turned my head toward the catcher. Everyone’s gaze was directed at me.
Then I flashed a grin.
Now it was showtime.
I put on my glove. Then I could feel the people watching me murmuring. Naturally, there was a reason for that.
Because the hand I was wearing the glove on right now was my right hand, not my left.
“Huh? Chae Gang-woo is a righty, isn’t he?”
“Yeah, that’s what I know too?”
“He can throw with his left?!”
That’s right, you bastards.
Smiling at the corners of my mouth, I slowly closed my eyes and opened them.
I gripped the ball in my left hand. By now, holding the ball in my left hand was no longer unfamiliar. It was proof of how hard I had worked.
Confidence surged within me. I gripped the ball as if pressing it down with my fingertips. Then I grew curious.
If I threw this ball, what kind of expressions would those people—who had mocked me with faces full of ridicule—make?
Taking a deep breath, I slowly lifted my right leg. My body moved on its own, following the motion I had practiced countless times.
I held my breath. At the same time, I stepped forward with the leg that had risen to my waist. The ball shot out of my hand like a bullet.
At the same time, with a thud, the ball rolled across the ground.
“Ah. My mistake.”
Even though the ball had clearly headed toward the center, the catcher hadn’t been able to catch it. The catcher wore a bewildered expression.
“Why… didn’t I catch it?”
The catcher muttered to himself, seeming lost in thought as if analyzing it. I forcefully suppressed the corners of my lips from rising.
The ball had definitely flown toward the left. But the floating ball instantly changed direction toward the right.
Not only that. The ball, which seemed to be in a state of weightlessness, floated in the air before suddenly dropping down.
He must have reached out thinking he would naturally catch it, but the ball bounced off the catcher’s mitt with a tap and fell. The catcher’s expression as he blankly stared at the ball rolling on the ground was peculiar.
“What? I thought the ball looked good? He can’t catch it?”
I heard a voice—I couldn’t tell if it was a coach or someone else. At that, the catcher quickly got back into position.
I prepared to throw again. This time, I intended to perfectly drive a high-speed knuckleball into the catcher’s mitt.
I gripped the baseball again with the fingertips of my left hand. This time, I intended to properly hold my breath and keep my pitching form compact.
In order to show them a proper high-speed knuckleball.
“Here it comes.”
At my words, the gazes of everyone in the training facility fixed upon me.
Since they were watching me so intensely, I had to show them properly. That I wasn’t dead yet.
My leg rose again. I pushed the baseball touching my fingertips directly toward the catcher.
The ball that left my fingertips had no spin. It moved as if pushed by the wind. But it wasn’t slow.
Whoosh—. The ball, flying along a bizarre trajectory, soon latched onto the catcher’s mitt with a smack.
Thwack—!
Silence fell immediately.
Everyone simply stared at me with their mouths agape, as if they couldn’t believe what they had just seen.
Soon, the silence was broken.
“Did he… just throw a knuckleball?”
“It’s not going down the middle, but it’s eerily catching the edge of the strike zone?”
“Fuck, you can’t even see the ball? Isn’t that a real demon pitch?”
Demon pitch.
A hollow laugh escaped me at those words. Then the catcher, seemingly 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 worked out.”
At those words, not only the catcher but even the pitchers who had been cursing me were astonished.
As I raised my head and swept my gaze around, two people caught my eye.
One was Manager Yoon Seong-geun, and next to him stood a man who appeared to be around the same age as Scout Lee Jong-hwa.
Soon, I could tell who the man was. An Chung-hee. When I first started baseball, a legendary pitcher who had dominated the KBO.
Judging by the jacket emblazoned with the ER Hawks logo, he seemed to be a coach.
“Manager, what I just saw… is it real?”
Coach An Chung-hee muttered as if to himself. Then Manager Yoon Seong-geun, who had been standing beside him with his arms crossed, burst into hearty laughter.
“Didn’t I tell you? I said an interesting fellow would come.”
As if to say his eye for talent wasn’t wrong, Manager Yoon Seong-geun kept his gaze fixed on me.
***
‘An interesting fellow.’
Along with Manager Yoon Seong-geun’s words, I joined the team as a developmental player.
A pro club, the ER Hawks!
There was no time for other thoughts. I wanted to tell this news to those who were waiting for me more than anyone else—my parents.
“Mom! Dad!!”
I flung open the arcade door. At my voice, my parents, who had been sitting at the counter, sprang to their feet.
“Gang-woo!”
“Did you make it? Hey, did you make it?!”
Mom was already crying, and though Dad’s hands were trembling, he tried his best to act composed as he asked.
While I played baseball, my parents never once burdened me. Even though they poured massive amounts of money into it unconditionally, even though they ran the arcade cutting back on sleep, not once did they tell me to pay them back later or take credit for getting me into baseball like this.
When I was young, I didn’t know. I didn’t know gloves were that expensive. When another friend got a new glove, I wanted a new one too and childishly pestered them to buy me one. Each time, my parents would end with the words, “Work hard,” and buy it for me.
Even when my shoulder was injured, even when I was told I couldn’t play baseball anymore, my parents worried about me more than anything else.
“Yeah, I passed.”
Suppressing the emotions welling up within me, I smiled broadly.
“I’m joining the ER Hawks as a developmental player and will be with the 2nd team starting next week!”
“Really, really?”
“I told you so! Don’t worry from now on. I’ll work really hard and make it to the 1st team. And when I become a starter, I’ll bring you both to the stadium.”
Mom hugged me right then and there, and Dad laughed heartily and shouted.
“Yeah, what can’t I wait for? Our son made it to the pros!”
It had been a while. Since I had seen Dad smile so innocently, and Mom rejoice like a child.
Then I felt so grateful to Manager Yoon Seong-geun, who had reached out his hand to me when I had been shoved into hell. Even though my high school coach and manager had watched me until now, they had turned their backs.
Yet he had chosen me based on nothing but mere potential.
“I really have to do well.”
The only way to repay Manager Yoon Seong-geun was to show him. So that he wouldn’t regret picking me.
And that night—no, until dawn the next day—I threw the ball. I repeatedly gripped and threw the ball in an empty lot.
Whoosh—. Whoosh—.
The feel of the ball pushing out from my fingertips was so good it gave me chills. Now, it was no longer just my shoulder; I had grown accustomed to throwing using my shoulder, arm, joints, and fingertips.
“It’s called a knuckleball.”
They say it’s easy to learn but rare to succeed at. Even in our country, there were only about two or three baseball players who could throw it properly. Even they fell far short of the Major League level.
Even in the Major Leagues, there were only about four or five who properly used the knuckleball. And some of them didn’t even use it as their primary pitch.
But could I really do it? And more importantly, could I keep throwing the high-speed knuckleball that Manager Yoon Seong-geun wanted?
A laugh burst out of me. It wasn’t a laugh born of hopelessness or absurdity.
It wasn’t a question of whether I could or should. For me, who had been pulled up from the most desperate situation imaginable, there was only one answer.
“I just have to do it.”
It was a laugh that said of course I could do it.
High-speed knuckleball. I just had to throw that damn thing.
If no one had done it before, I just had to be the first.
“I’ll do it, I will!”
And I would conquer the KBO with that high-speed knuckleball.
Even though it was an empty lot now, the day would soon come when I threw the ball in a stadium. No, I would make it so.
“Exactly one year. Within a year, I will definitely set foot on the stadium mound as a starter!”
Now it was truly beginning.
D-365.
The remaining D-Day until I ascended to the 1st team, became a starting pitcher, and led my team to victory.