The Extra in a Baseball Novel

The strategy of having Cha Taehyun start as both pitcher and batter in the season opener—while crazy—was successful since they secured the win.

“…But we should limit how much we make him play both positions.”

Keeping him fixed as the primary starter and rotating him regularly felt like too much of a stretch, no matter how exceptional Cha Taehyun was. After all, despite his superhuman performances, he was still human. He couldn’t pitch a complete game every time.

Of course, even if he didn’t pitch a complete game, he could continue playing as a batter after being replaced as pitcher. However, any pitcher that took his place would eventually have to bat, creating a hole in the lineup.

It was complicated if he didn’t complete the game…

“Maybe we should have him pitch once every two weeks or only play both roles during crucial games… that seems like the right approach, Coach Goo,” the manager suggested.

Coach Goo tilted his head in thought.

“Hm… I think if Taehyun is okay with it, we should just let him keep going,” he replied.

—Crack!

Cha Taehyun calmly tracked the ball, snatching it up and quickly pulling it out of his glove to throw.

The ball rocketed toward the first baseman at an unbelievable speed.

“Out!”

The inning was over.

“Now imagine if Ji Chanwoo had been there instead—do you think the inning would’ve ended that smoothly?”

Granted, the hit was difficult for anyone to field, not just Ji Chanwoo, but still.

“Probably not,” Coach Goo admitted.

“So what do you think would happen if we overwork Cha Taehyun and he ends up injured?”

Coach Goo briefly imagined that scenario.

—Roar!!

He flinched as if he could hear the angry screams of furious fans in his mind.

“The stadium would be a sea of fire…”

Of course, it was a joke, but there was an unsettling feeling—like it could actually happen.

“That’s what I’m saying. Coach Goo, let’s make sure we handle this carefully. Also… look at Suho’s face over there.”

Manager Lee Eun-seok gestured toward Lee Suho with his chin.

“Haha! Cha Taehyun! I love you!” Lee Suho shouted.

“Uh… what?” Cha Taehyun replied, confused.

“And you too, Andy! Come here! Let’s have a group hug, my keystone players!”

“What? No! I’m not gay! I have a wife!” Andy protested.

Manager Lee smiled and continued speaking.

“I’ve been watching Suho since he debuted with Phoenix as a fan… I’ve never seen him look this happy. And it’s not just Suho. Without Cha Taehyun, our pitching staff… well, you know what I mean, right?”

“Yes, I completely understand,” Coach Goo responded.

“Something’s seriously off with that Dragons’ foreign pitcher,” Shin Tae-seop muttered.

Shin Si-woo, who always stuck with him because they shared the same last name, quickly chimed in.

“Yeah, something’s weird. He even gave up a hit to me but didn’t allow any runs… it’s almost like he’s a bit of a masochist. It’s like he enjoys loading the bases without letting anyone score.”

For once, Shin Si-woo was right.

The guy allowed plenty of hits, even to players like Shin Si-woo, yet somehow kept wriggling out of jams and preventing runs.

—Crack!

As Lee Joon, the next batter, approached the plate, Lee Sangjin yelled out.

“Hey! Lee Joon! Live up to your name this time! You should hit a double!”

“Ugh… I’ve told you not to say that,” Lee Joon muttered, scowling as Lee Sangjin and Shin Tae-seop chuckled.

They always teased him about anything related to the number two, and it always got to him. The guy seriously hated the number two.

—Whiff!

Lee Joon let the first pitch go by. It looked like a ball to me.

“Strike!” the umpire called.

Well, I guess the umpire saw it differently.

—“Come on! How is that a strike?”

—“Get your eyes checked, ump!”

—“You’ve got money riding on this game, don’t you?”

Lee Joon frowned, clearly not happy with the call, and readied his bat again, his eyes now sharp and focused.

On the second pitch, Lee Joon swung hard, sending the ball just over the shortstop’s head, allowing him to comfortably reach first base.

—“Haha! That’s Lee Joon for you!”

—“Lee Joon! Lee Joon!”

—“Maybe you should’ve just let him catch that ball!”

“See? That’s Lee Joon. He’s living up to his name after all,” Lee Sangjin said.

“Senior, didn’t he only hit a single? Shouldn’t he have hit a double to live up to his name?” Shin Si-woo asked.

“He hit two singles, so that counts. It’s actually more like him to do that.”

“Oh! I see!”

…Does that really make sense?

Anyway, even if a double play happens now, I’ll still get my turn at bat. Unless it’s a triple play, but that’s not likely.

As I moved toward the on-deck circle, Andy was waiting for me with a grin.

“Taehyun, are you ready to hit a grand slam?”

So that’s why he was standing here. He just wanted to say that.

Apart from his obsession with kimchi pizza, Andy’s a pretty fun guy.

“Of course.”

Satisfied with my answer, Andy stepped up to the plate.

—Crack!

—Cheers erupting!

Andy actually got a hit.

After reaching first base, he threw a punch in the air toward the stands, then looked at me, moving his lips as if to say, Let’s destroy that pitcher!

Well… I couldn’t hear him clearly, but I’m pretty sure he was telling me to hit one out of the park.

That was exactly what I was planning to do anyway.

How many times had we failed to score runs when we should have? The fans must be getting impatient by now. Most importantly, how frustrated must Mi-yeon teacher be, having sacrificed her day off to come watch?

—Cha Taehyun! Cha Taehyun! Cha Taehyun!

The cheers were deafening as I walked to the batter’s box.

Maybe it was because we won the season opener yesterday, but there seemed to be more Phoenix fans today.

I tried searching for Mi-yeon teacher in the crowd… but as expected, it was hard to spot her.

Maybe I should suggest giving her a designated seat back at Sajik Stadium…

“Could you focus on the game?” a sharp voice from behind snapped at me. I hadn’t even looked at the stands for that long, compared to some other players’ routines.

Well, in any case…

“Yes, let’s focus and get some runs.”

That answer usually made people happy.

“You’ve been doing well recently, but how long do you think that’ll last?”

“I’ll focus on the game.”

I heard some chuckles and grumbling, but I ignored it and locked my eyes on the pitcher.

As I mentioned earlier, this pitcher was strange. He allowed runners but somehow didn’t give up many runs.

He wasn’t an easy opponent.

Even though I had two hits off him in three at-bats today, neither of them were extra-base hits.

He seemed to throw breaking balls just for me, almost as if he was wary of me.

So far, he’d thrown a curveball, two-seamer, slider, forkball, and changeup. If he had anything else up his sleeve, I’d just tip my cap and settle for a single.

The pitcher dropped the rosin bag and began his wind-up.

In this brief moment before the pitch, the batter has to quickly analyze the pitcher’s motion, arm swing, and speed to predict what kind of pitch is coming.

The ball left his fingertips, heading my way.

The pitching motion looked almost identical to his fastball delivery. But after observing him so far, I’d noticed one thing: he hadn’t thrown a fastball as his first pitch in any of the six innings so far.

Which meant?

It was probably a changeup, designed to deceive me with the same motion and arm speed as a fastball.

But if I knew it was a changeup…

It’s basically a batting practice pitch.

—Crack!

I timed my swing perfectly, connecting with the ball as it sharply dropped in speed.

The ball soared high into the air, heading straight for the stands.

As the cheers around me grew louder and louder, I couldn’t help but grin.

When the ball finally landed deep in the outfield stands, I confidently tossed my bat aside.

As I started jogging toward first base, I paused for a moment.

“Thank you. Focusing really is important,” I said, giving a small bow toward the direction of

the veteran who had snapped at me earlier.

This is Korea, after all. It’s only polite to show respect to your seniors.

It wasn’t just the lack of hits that frustrated the fans today. What was worse was the inability to score runs, even after getting on base.

It was like watching a movie with tons of build-up, only for it to end without a proper climax.

The Phoenix fans were on the verge of losing it, feeling as though the game was heading in the same direction.

Then Cha Taehyun stepped up to the plate.

A rookie, but more reliable and exciting than any veteran.

His bat swung powerfully—Nôv(el)B\\jnn

—Crack!

The long-awaited highlight finally arrived.

“The ball’s flying farther than expected! The left fielder has stopped in his tracks, and the ball’s destination is… the stands! A grand slam! Cha Taehyun, in just his second game, has recorded his first career grand slam, putting Phoenix ahead by four runs!”

It was like taking a drink of refreshing soda after a long, frustrating stretch… enough to drive anyone wild with excitement.

“This guy is insane!”

“Where do you find a rookie that delivers whenever you ask?”

“Taehyun, I love you!”

“This kid is amazing! Totally worth coming all the way to Incheon for!”

“I guess I’ll have to go to every game in Sajik now! Forget work!”

“Not even 20 billion won would be too much for him! Just take all the other players’ salaries and give him 200 billion!”

“Yeah, give Taehyun 200 billion! But make sure he stays with Phoenix for life!”

Phoenix swept the opening series with a two-game win streak, starting the season on a high note.

There’s a saying that if Phoenix plays well, peace comes to Busan. It wasn’t just an empty phrase.

Especially on Sundays, when a win carried the joy through to Monday.

Though it was just two games, Phoenix was officially at the top of the standings, and the fans were relishing the moment, already celebrating.

Reporters eagerly published articles, and fans reveled in the early success.

[The Emergence of a Monster Rookie in Korean Baseball? Who is Cha Taehyun?]

[Cha Taehyun: Recognized Early On by Korea’s Best Pitcher, Kim Ho-san?]

[Kim Ho-san: “He’s amazing, but I wish he had gone to the Majors…”]

[Pitcher No-hitter, Batter Multi-home Run—He’s Playing Baseball All by Himself!]

[Our Phoenix Has Changed! Phoenix Dominates 5-0 to Sweep the Opening Series!]

[Phoenix Coach Lee Eun-seok’s Magic: From Bottom to Top in No Time?]

[Phoenix’s Starting Pitchers: Foreign Aces Locking Down the Rotation!]

[Lee Suho Throws a Complete Game Shutout—But Is 121 Pitches Too Much?]

[Lee Suho: “It’s not overwork. I insisted on finishing the game myself. I wanted to close it out.”]

└ Manager Lee Eun-seok is just built different.

└ Dude, he’s your friend or something? Show some respect to our manager!

└ It’s like he has winning in his DNA. How else could he have turned this team around?

└ Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. If it weren’t for Cha Taehyun, we wouldn’t have scored a run in the opener, and today’s game would’ve gone differently too. It’s too early to talk about championships.

└ Yeah, we’re riding on Cha Taehyun’s back, but so what? Let the legend carry us!

└ LOL, they’re so jealous of our Taehyun.

└ I’m just so happy. I never thought Phoenix baseball could bring me this much joy…

└ Funny, we said the same thing last spring.

└ Shut up.

Despite all the positive news and reactions about Phoenix, Coach Lee Eun-seok had a grim expression on his face.

“It’s lucky Taehyun and Suho threw complete games…”

The reporters and fans didn’t know it, but the coach was well aware.

The bullpen was a ticking time bomb. It hadn’t exploded yet, but it was only a matter of time.

Once the bullpen came into play, the games would get tougher. The fans who were now praising the team would turn into monsters in an instant.

His job was to make sure that didn’t happen… or at least to delay it as long as possible.

As he looked over the bullpen roster, Coach Koo Min-seung spoke up.

“Coach, I heard Min Iri-woo’s rehabilitation is almost complete. What do you think about bringing him up?”

Min Iri-woo. The mention of his name made Coach Lee Eun-seok flinch.

Once a powerful pitcher with a devastating forkball, he had been Phoenix’s ace, even winning the most victories in a season.

As a fan, Lee Eun-seok had loved him.

But that period of admiration hadn’t lasted long. The excessive use of his forkball had damaged his shoulder.

He’d undergone Tommy John surgery three times. If he returned this season, it would be his first appearance in six years.

“That would be great… Min-woo can definitely pitch well.”

Lee Eun-seok was confident that even if Min-woo were moved to the bullpen, he’d adapt perfectly.

However…

“It’s still a no-go. He needs to complete his full rehab, no exceptions.”

Trading the team’s future for success was one thing, but risking the career of a player who had already been broken once was something he couldn’t justify.

As much as it pained him, Min Iri-woo would have to wait. That left only one other player worth considering.

[Cha Sihwan (Submarine pitcher, right-handed thrower/hitter)]

Closing the roster file, Lee Eun-seok stood up.

“Coach Goo, is Cha Sihwan around?”

“Yes. He should be doing pitching drills. I saw him earlier this morning, excited because he said he was finally getting a feel for his control.”

“Really? I thought it would take longer for him to figure that out. How did it happen?”

“Well, like I said, I just saw him briefly this morning, so I’m not sure…”

“That’s fine. I’ll ask him myself. Let’s go check it out.”