Chapter 2

Chapter 1

South Atlantic League.

A game between the Rome Braves and the Lexington Legends.

It was a Single-A game, and despite the large score difference, the small stadium was quite full due to it being a weekend game.

More so, it felt like families had come out for a weekend outing rather than to support a particular team.

Top of the 8th inning. A score of 12-1.

In a situation where the game was effectively over, a new pitcher took the mound.

Jung Woo Lee. At 6.2 feet and 192 pounds, he wasn't particularly large for a pitcher, and he slowly threw his warm-up pitches.

'What the hell is going on?'

He felt a bit complicated.

He had no idea what was happening.

After completing a year of rehabilitation and returning to the game, he found himself back in the same situation where he was getting hammered.

If this were a dream, it would be incredibly vivid and long. It must be a nightmare.

Because he would be hammered again.

Repeating this nightmare was just that.

'Is this really a regression? Is this reality?'

Did he die and end up in hell?

Is this his punishment for returning to the most difficult time?

He thought he had lived a decent life.

'This mound, it's been a while.'

Shaking his head, he suddenly felt a thrill from the familiar sensation.

Unlike the soft Korean mound influenced by Japan, the American mound was hard.

It gave a certain feeling.

It felt like he had flown to this other world of America, Major, and Minor.

'Okay, good. If this is really a regression, I can change it. I can do better.'

Jung Woo muttered to himself, steadying his mind.

Now that he was on the mound, he would throw the ball.

He had always done so, no matter the situation or the condition of his body.

And he had a bit of confidence.

Unlike before, he now had a lot of experience.

'Well, mostly getting hammered.'

Still, with that experience, he could pitch.

Perhaps he could change the outcome.

He wanted to believe that.

'Top of the 8th, 7th batter, Lexington. Is this the sixth game?'

He still hadn't forgotten.

He remembered all the games where he was hammered after his return.

After recovering from his injury.

During the season of his return, Jung Woo was thoroughly beaten.

The sixth game was the worst.

That's why it stuck in his memory.

'Even if I don't know why I'm back, I just need to do my job.'

Jung Woo whispered to himself, as if consoling himself, and finished his warm-up pitches.

Thanks to the diligent bullpen work, even though he was confused, his shoulder was sufficiently warmed up.

He looked at the catcher.

'Was it Patrick Robinson? It's been a while, you too.'

Patrick Robinson.

The starting catcher for the Rome Braves.

He remembered him as a decent guy.

He moved up to Double-A around this time and they no longer played together.

Since he wasn't an outstanding hitter, he never made it to the majors, but he was a good catcher.

The catcher, perhaps thinking that Jung Woo was nervous because he was looking at him silently, smiled softly and hit his glove, then gave a sign.

A catcher who knew how to calm a pitcher.

Jung Woo nodded at his sign.

'Right-handed batter, I don't remember his batting average. In this game, 2 for 4, both singles. He seems to be in good condition.'

He couldn't remember any other information.

He could only see what was in front of him.

'They look down on me. Well, they would. This is me at this time.'

The batter's casual demeanor.

They were ignoring him.

Considering his poor performance, it was understandable, so he wasn't particularly angry.

Jung Woo, as he always did, threw a wind-up with a blank expression.

A deep breath. And a pitch.

"Whoosh-"

The ball, thrown from a mundane three-quarters pitching form, was a two-seam fastball.

It flew hard and changed course in front of the batter.

'Good, it hit the spot.'

The first pitch, thrown with all his effort, went into the catcher's glove.

Ball. It was disappointing not to get a strike, but the ball hit the spot he wanted.

At least his control wasn't bad.

No, his control was always good.

The problem was his velocity and movement.

'82 miles, it's the same... '

82 mph (132 km/h). Compared to his pre-injury 95 mph (153 km/h), it was woefully inadequate. But he was calm. After throwing for over a decade, he was used to it.

'I thought it would get better. That it would come back with time. But it never did.'

The ball never improved over time.

That's why the Atlanta Braves, who had given him many opportunities after his injury, eventually gave up on him. They tried changing his pitching form and widening his stride, but nothing worked.

So, Jung Woo quickly focused.

'Just throw with all the strength I have now. Don't obsess over the impossible.'

Jung Woo looked at the catcher again.

The first pitch was a bit outside to test the batter. What about this one?

The catcher spread his fingers.

Jung Woo nodded with his usual blank expression.

The catcher's choice was aggressive.

'Get a strike with a four-seam, not bad.'

"Whoosh-"

He clenched his teeth as if to break them.

Four-seam. Before his injury, Jung Woo only threw two-seam fastballs.

The four-seam was a new weapon he acquired during rehab because the two-seam lost its power.

His body was still unfamiliar with it since he had only learned it recently.

But mentally, Jung Woo threw it skillfully.

The ball, thrown from a standard stance, flew to the outside of the strike zone.

'It hit the spot again.'

The feeling of the ball leaving his fingertips was good.

At least it wasn't a bad pitch.

The result was good too.

"Strike!"

"But it didn't move?"

"Yeah, but it went in."

The batter grumbled and stepped back at the umpire's call.

'Okay.'

A check swing.

But it was in the zone.

The batter, clearly disappointed, tapped his head with his bat.

He must be angry at himself for missing a good pitch.

'Not a swing, but at least I got a strike.'

Not a bad result.

But the ball was still on his mind.

'84 miles, it's the same.'

He had hoped, but the four-seam was also mundane.

Unlike his mental state, his body was still unfamiliar, and his control was a bit off.

If it had gone a bit further, it would have been called a ball.

The batter probably wouldn't have swung hard either.

In Single-A, there are many players with excess power.

A slow and mundane pitch can always fly over the fence.

'If it's hit, it will go over.'

The catcher must have sensed this too.

He asked for a low curveball that would drop outside the strike zone.

A pitch that was always effective as his go-to move before his injury.

A pitch he threw diligently even as he moved around after his injury.

Jung Woo fiddled with the rosin bag and whispered.

'Hit the spot.'

He gripped the ball as if it were a magic spell.

The grip was typical.

Whether it was the good sensation in his hand or the good grip.

A ball that always hit the spot and pulled the batter's bat before his injury.

He threw it with all his might.

'Good, it hit the spot again.'

As if he had heard the whisper.

The curveball went to the desired location, but the batter wasn't fooled.

73 mph. Slow, mundane, and early movement.

Since it went low and obvious, the batter didn't even flinch.

'At this point, it's all bad.'

That made it 1-2.

A count that slightly favored the batter.

The pitcher felt the pressure because he needed to get a strike.

But Jung Woo remained composed.

There were too many things he had experienced to get excited over a single count.

'What will I do? Go for a strike? Or try to fool him again?'

He asked the catcher with his eyes, and the catcher's choice was a low changeup.

Since the momentum was bad, he wanted to try to fool the batter again.

It was a good lead, but for the first time, Jung Woo shook his head.

'He definitely hit it over. Cleanly.'

As he said, this was the most shocking time in his life, so he remembered everything.

The changeup he threw to fool the batter turned into a solo home run.

He threw it low, but the ball was so bad that the batter just hit it over.

'Let's go with a four-seam.'

Slow and quick.

Not a changeup, but showing a slow pitch and then going for a quick strike.

The catcher seemed to understand Jung Woo's thoughts and gave the four-seam sign.

This time, Jung Woo nodded.

He wound up aggressively.

A wide stride. A rotating right arm. Fingers pushing the ball. The movements were perfectly connected.

The opposing batter's eyes sparkled.

"Whoosh-"

His legs moved naturally. His waist rotated powerfully. His swing was heavy. Thanks to his long experience, he instinctively realized.

"Oh..."

He knew it was over.

A clear, ringing sound echoed through the stadium, as if to make a bell sound.

He let out a faint sigh.

He knew where the ball would go and what the result would be.

It would turn the 12 on the scoreboard into a 13.

A solo home run that wouldn't affect the game's outcome.

But it was a significant shock to the pitcher.

The catcher, as if acknowledging his mistake, stood up and hit his chest with his glove.

But Jung Woo wasn't a fool.

Choosing the four-seam was his decision, throwing it was his action, and getting hit was his fault.

'My pitch was bad. It wasn't the changeup. It was just a home run waiting to happen.'

The four-seam, as always, went in slow and mundane.

To a batter who had timed it, it was just a batting practice pitch.

Whether it was a changeup or a four-seam, it didn't matter.

Even if he had thrown a curveball or a two-seam, it would have been the same.

The pitcher Jung Woo simply didn't have the skill to prevent a home run from that batter.

He realized this after a long time.

'Just let it go.'

If his pitch had a bit more movement. If his velocity was just 3 mph faster.

Would the result have been different?

'No, that's meaningless.'

Jung Woo, pressing his lips together, stomped on the mound.

Now he knew. Nothing could be changed.

Since his skill hadn't changed.

The result wouldn't be different either.

No matter how much experience he gained or how much his mind matured.

His current skill couldn't change.

'Phew. This won't be easy again.'

xxxx

"Lee, let's stop here. It's your first season back, so it's natural for your game sense to be off. It will get better, so don't worry too much."

"Yes, I understand."

He was pulled from the game.

Again.

'Was it six consecutive games? Probably.'

If his memory was correct, he had been pulled from the previous five games as well.

So this was his sixth consecutive game being pulled.

Six consecutive games being pulled is a difficult record to achieve.

Getting two home runs in one inning is also tough.

But what hurt more was that, contrary to what the pitching coach said.

His game sense was at its best.

His current condition was the best it could be. It couldn't get any better.

It was the best since his injury and before his regression.

This was just the best.

Even if more time passed, it wouldn't change much.

Jung Woo knew this.

'This is really the end.'

Now he accepted it calmly.

He had desperately refused to accept it before, but not anymore.

His pitches didn't work even in Single-A.

They didn't work in the KBO either.

Nothing had changed, and he couldn't change anything.

The pitcher Jung Woo was finished.

That's just how it was.

After the game, when everyone was gathering their belongings.

Jung Woo sat on the bench, silently bowing his head.

No one approached him.

Six runs, including two home runs.

It was hard to find someone brave enough to talk to a pitcher who was so despondent.

Of course, contrary to what people thought, he wasn't despondent.

It was something he had already expected.

'Of course, I knew. Getting hammered like this. It's just a bit disappointing. Whether it's a dream or a real regression, I don't know.'

He wanted to change something, even a little.

But nothing changed, not the game's outcome nor his slumped body.

"You did well. You just finished rehab, so it's strange to expect you to perform well immediately. Take it slow."

The pitching coach came over to console him.

He had helped Jung Woo through the long rehabilitation process, not wanting to give up on a promising prospect brought in with a large sum of money and Jung Woo's request. He knew how much the young pitcher had been frustrated. So he tried to console him as if it was nothing.

Jung Woo shook his head.

'Let's stop. You know what will happen next.'

The road ahead was full of thorns.

Being completely broken once was enough.

He didn't want to be stuck in something he couldn't do anymore.

Perhaps this was teaching him something.

Since it couldn't be done, he should just give up.

"Thank you for all your help, Coach."

"Lee!"

The coach called him urgently, seeing his resigned expression.

He was a player who was too good to let go.

Anyone who had seen him before his injury would feel the same.

It wasn't just about his pitching.

He was a naturally talented athlete.

"I know my body. It's impossible to get any better. It's just... like that."

The pitching coach looked at him silently.

As the silence of a pitcher's end filled the air.

The hitting coach, who had been glancing at the batters who were a bit lacking compared to the opposition, subtly turned his gaze. He silently watched a scene that was hard to see without tears.

In his eyes, there was clearly a new possibility.