A recurring nightmare

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jlitke

NEW YORK -- There may be no coming back from this.

Arizona's Byung-Hyun Kim is only 22, but he's already collected enough pain in two nights to last a career.

He entered Game 4 as a big-league closer on the rise, the first native of South Korea to appear in a World Series. After surrendering a game-tying two-run home run to Tino Martinez in the ninth and the game-winner to Derek Jeter an inning later, he left it wondering how things could get worse.

Barely 24 hours later, he had his answer.

Trying to protect a two-run lead for the second night in a row, Kim entered Game 5 in the ninth to a haunting echo. It was the muffled thud of a baseball barely meeting the bat, a ball hit too softly to break an egg.

But both times, it was followed by the sight of that same baseball wobbling into a wide-open expanse of left field. With one of his teammates in futile pursuit.

The night before, it was New York's Paul O'Neill who singled -- after breaking his bat -- and got picked up when Martinez homered. This night it was Jorge Posada, whose blooper rolled all the way into the left-field corner and who wound up on second by the time Arizona's Danny Bautista found the handle on the ball.

Two outs later, Kim's second pitch to Scott Brosius brought another haunting echo. It was the sound of a ball struck solidly enough to clear the wall at Yankee Stadium. And you got a glimpse of how much it hurt just seeing Kim frozen in place, doubled over on the mound.

"I am sorry to my teammates and my manager for giving up the tying run," he said through an interpreter. "I want to thank my manager for giving me another chance to pitch."

Kim took a deep breath.

A smile creased his lips.

Sitting in his locker, he looked for a moment like the carefree kid his teammates always talk about. The one who plays video games with their kids because it's an easy way to learn cool phrases in English. The one who bounced back and forth between the minors, not so much worried about adjusting as grateful for the chance to try.

That was the Kim who raised both arms toward the roof of the cubicle still smiling, as if he was shaking off a burden.

"If there is another chance in Game 6 or 7," Kim said, "I hope I will be called to go to the mound."

There appeared to be little doubt by the time manager Bob Brenly reached the interview room.

"He's our closer," Brenly said. "I talked to BK at length this afternoon. I talked to our bullpen coach, Glenn Sherlock, and asked how he was warming up. Glenn said his stuff was electric."

That after throwing 62 pitches over the course of three innings just one game earlier.

"He's our closer," Brenly repeated almost defiantly. "He wanted the ball in that situation. He just made a bad pitch, a slider that hung on the inside part of the plate to Scott Brosius."

The biggest situations bring out the best in some pitchers.

The Yankees' Mariano Rivera gave up a home run to then-Cleveland catcher Sandy Alomar in the 1997 playoffs and never looked back. With 24 saves in 24 postseason opportunities since, he is widely considered the finest closer in baseball.

Not all the stories, though, end that happily.

Philadelphia reliever Mitch Williams was supposed to have the closer's mentality down perfect. He even had a nickname that reflected it -- "Wild Thing." But after giving up a walkoff home run in Game 6 in the 1993 World Series to Toronto's Joe Carter, he was never the same again. Williams was gone from baseball soon after.

And there's the tragic story of Donnie Moore. He saved 31 games for California in 1985 and was one strike from clinching the American League pennant the next season when Dave Henderson hit a momentum-changing homer. Moore had only nine more saves in the majors after that. Three years later, with family and career crumbling and still despondent over Henderson's homer, Moore committed suicide.

One look at Kim after the way events unfolded in Game 5 told you worries like those were unnecessary. While Game 6 starter Randy Johnson dressed in the locker next to his, the kid's eyes sparkled as wave after wave of questioners closed in.

His poise suggested it's not his future that's in danger, just his effectiveness as a closer. He was a starting pitcher growing up, and the Diamondbacks have talked about someday giving him the ball to begin games and not end them. That day may come, but Kim hopes it doesn't come too soon.

"If we get another chance," he repeated patiently, "I hope the manager sends me to the mound."

Right about then, grizzled veteran Matt Williams walked past the kid's locker.

"He's got wonderful stuff. I just hope this doesn't hurt his confidence," Williams said, "because he's got a bright future.

Just maybe not as a closer anymore.

Jim Litke is the national sports columnist for The Associated Press. Write to him at jlitke@ap.org.