The Extra in a Baseball Novel

“Kim Sinhwa, you pitched an impressive 8 innings and allowed only 2 runs against Cheongshingo High, the underdog sensation of the tournament. Could you share your thoughts?”

Daesangogo’s starting pitcher, Kim Sinhwa, replied with a calm expression.

“I don’t have much to say. I expected to win, so it’s not a big deal.”

The reporter, caught off guard, forced a smile and continued.

“Haha… You seem very confident! That’s the spirit of youth! Now, Daesangogo, known for its baseball legacy, was considered to have weakened due to the injuries of its ace players and the graduation of its senior members last year. What led to this resurgence?”

“You just answered your own question, reporter.”

“Pardon…?”

“The current second-year players, including myself, grew strong and filled the void left by our graduated seniors. Injured players also returned. Basically… everything is back to where it should be. Including Daesangogo and Cheongshingo.”

The reporter flinched at Kim Sinhwa’s last statement.

It was a comment that insulted Cheongshingo, a team that had just suffered defeat.

Still… to the reporter, this was a juicy, provocative quote.

‘This might turn into an interesting article.’

Though he felt a bit guilty, the reporter reasoned that trash talk can stir up excitement in sports.

Having justified it to himself, he decided to encourage more trash talk.

“Haha, you’re brimming with confidence. Do you think you can defeat Hyuksan High, a strong favorite to win the Blue Dragon Tournament?”

“Hyuksan? Well… they seem good, but isn’t Lee Seungtae injured? I didn’t see him play… Without him, they’re nothing special.”

The reporter’s lips curled into a smirk. A perfect headline popped into his head.

[Daesangogo’s Kim Sinhwa: ‘Without Lee Seungtae? They’re nothing.’]

“Wow… You’re really confident. Does that mean you’re not worried about Kim Changhyun, then?”

“Not really… I already confirmed that in the tryouts. He was beneath me.”

—

Jin Myunghwan, who was focused on his phone screen, shook his head.

“Look at this guy’s arrogance. He’s almost as annoying as Cha Taehyun.”

I watched the interview with Myunghwan and agreed that Kim Sinhwa was annoying, but…

“Still, comparing him to me crosses a line, Myunghwan.”

“Really? Well… you’re right. He can’t quite compare to Cha Taehyun. My bad, Kim Sinhwa!”

“… ….”

“Ah, sorry, sorry. No need to sulk. Anyway, isn’t it strange these days? With this fake Taehyun and this Kim Sinhwa, all these talented guys keep popping up. Oh, that includes you, the real Taehyun.”

He’s sharp…

Although Myunghwan always seems like he’s living thoughtlessly, he has his sharp moments.

Indeed, as Myunghwan pointed out, this phenomenon can’t simply be dismissed as “coincidence.”

The appearance of Jin Taehyun, the sudden emergence of a pitcher on par with Lee Seungtae like Kim Sinhwa, and even the resurgence of historically powerful baseball teams—these clichés all seem to suggest someone might be pulling strings, possibly the one who sent me here.

Maybe they thought, “It would be boring if things went too smoothly.”

But what does it matter?

“I just have to win and shut him up.”

“Oh… That’s the kind of confidence I expect from the most annoying guy.”

“…I always wonder, why do you keep calling me annoying?”

“The fact that you don’t understand why is annoying.”

Ugh… it’s pointless to argue.

I turned to find senior Changhyun.

Honestly, he’s probably the one most affected by that interview.

Senior Changhyun was looking at his phone, watching Kim Sinhwa’s interview on the screen. Surprisingly, instead of looking upset, he had a sly smile on his face.

—

The coach was holding a pen, constructing the lineup for the upcoming semifinals and finals.

‘They say Seungtae can start pitching again soon…’

He wrote Lee Seungtae’s name next to “starting pitcher” on the finals lineup and chuckled.

Suddenly, he remembered that arrogant interview from Daesangogo’s rookie.

“So, we’re nothing without Seungtae, huh? Fine, I’ll put Seungtae on the mound.”

The coach raised his pen to continue, but at that moment…

“Kim Changhyun?”

Unexpectedly, Kim Changhyun approached.

“I’m sorry to bother you, coach. Could I make a request?”

“A request…?”

The coach tilted his head.

‘This is a first…’

Kim Changhyun was always obedient, doing whatever was asked of him, no matter how tough the training. He wasn’t the type to come with personal requests.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

“This is unusual… What is it?”

After a brief pause, Kim Changhyun spoke.

“I want to be the starting pitcher in the finals.”

“The starting pitcher in the finals…?”

The coach was about to ask why but then recalled the interview and stopped himself.

‘Right… I guess his pride is hurt.’

After all, they said Hyuksan was nothing without Seungtae…

“Are you mad because that Daesangogo pitcher looked down on you?”

“No, sir.”

“Huh? You’re not?”

“I’m confident I can pitch better than him.”

The coach, who was listening seriously, laughed as if he had been let down.

“That’s pretty much the same thing, kid. I get that you’re annoyed, but this is the finals. We should—”

“Yes, I’m annoyed. So please, let me do it!”

Kim Changhyun suddenly raised his voice. He was so loud that the coffee on the desk rippled a little.

‘For Changhyun to be this insistent…’

Kim Changhyun, who always sacrificed for the team…

The coach rubbed his chin for a moment and looked at Changhyun’s face.

A firm, unwavering gaze filled with certainty.

‘Every time I see eyes like these, my heart softens…’

“Are you confident?”

Hearing the coach’s words, Kim Changhyun grinned broadly and replied.

“I’ll crush them.”

“I like the sound of that.”

The coach moved his pen again.

[Starting Pitcher: Lee Song… Kim Changhyun.]

—

Since we were favored to win, we advanced smoothly to the semifinals, which is today.

The opponent is Dongshin High, known as Hyuksan’s eternal rival.

Though we now outmatch Dongshin High, Hyuksan vs. Dongshin has always been unpredictable, regardless of the gap in skill levels, so we can’t let our guard down.

That aside…

“Why are there so many spectators again? Is it because it’s Hyuksan vs. Dongshin?”

My personal “Speedwagon” Myunghwan quickly answered.

“Not at all. Cheongshingo fans are cheering for us.”

“Huh? Cheongshingo fans? Why?”

Cheongshingo lost their chance at the championship because of us, but they’re supporting us?

“It’s because of that trash-talking interview with Daesangogo. It went viral on Newtube.”

“Ah… the one about ‘restoring Cheongshingo to its proper place?’”

That was definitely a jab.

“Yeah, that one. The whole ‘Cheongshingo Miracle Run’ had a lot of fans, so they got pissed off when they saw that interview.”

“But why are they supporting us?”

“We got insulted too, remember? They said we’re nothing without senior Seungtae. So now, Cheongshingo fans are hoping we’ll smash Daesangogo’s heads in.”

He really has a talent for explaining things. It all makes sense now.

“How do you even know all this?”

“Well… I’m the ghost of Newtube.”

“…If you spent less time on Newtube, your batting average would go up.”

“Could you give me some advice that actually makes sense, Taehyun?”

“Everyone, gather around.”

At that moment, the coach entered the dugout.

“You all know we’ve never had an easy time against Dongshin, right? So stay focused. More importantly…”

The coach paused briefly before continuing.

“Those Daesangogo punks have been running their mouths, so we need to teach them a lesson in the finals, don’t we?”

“Yes, sir!”

The response was so loud that the dugout shook a little. The coach grinned, showing his teeth.

—

Under the blazing sun, the semifinals of the Blue Dragon Tournament began, with Lee Seungtae taking the mound for the first inning.

“Hey, Seungtae. You’re not upset that the coach put you in

the semifinals, right?”

Catcher Ji Chanwoo asked teasingly, and Seungtae smirked.

“Why would I be? Didn’t you hear that punk’s interview?”

“Uh… Oh, yeah, I did.”

“Of course Changhyun should pitch in the finals. It’ll be more satisfying that way. Even if the coach hadn’t chosen him, I would’ve told him to go. So stop worrying. It’s obvious you’re thinking too much.”

‘Seungtae has really changed…’

Changwoo grinned and handed Seungtae the ball.

“Alright, my bad. So, how are you planning to handle Dongshin today? Want me to call the pitch?”

“Chanwoo, my arm’s well-rested. I’ve got energy to spare.”

“Alright, do it your way then.”

Back at the batter’s box, Chanwoo took his stance, and the umpire called the start of the game.

Without hesitation, Seungtae gripped the ball for a fastball and threw the first pitch.

The moment the ball left his fingertips, a grin spread across Seungtae’s face.

‘Resting for a while really does make a difference… This pitch feels pretty good.’

While it might have been just “pretty good” for Seungtae…

-Whish!

To the batter, it was much more than just a “pretty good” pitch.

-Smack!

‘Already… in the glove?’

When the batter realized it, the ball was already inside the catcher’s mitt.

“Nice pitch!”

The batter, frozen in place, turned his head toward the scoreboard, barely believing what he saw.

[157 km/h]

His jaw dropped helplessly.

The umpire, who also couldn’t take his eyes off the scoreboard, belatedly called out.

“St… Striiiike!”

—