The Little Ball Launched by the Attention Seeker (2)
A .400 batting average is something you fail to achieve because you lack effort.
That single statement from Pi Anta — one that no one with even a passing interest in baseball could possibly agree with — set every community, Ballpen included, ablaze beyond anyone's control.
And yet, even in the face of Pi Anta's absurd remarks, a surprising number of people came to her defense.
The reason being:
The truth was, even from the fans' perspective, Goraniz's lack of effort was painfully, viscerally real.
Errors so baffling they got featured in overseas media. Baserunning so brainless it looked like the players had left their heads in the dugout. And after all of that, the players still sauntering back in, snickering among themselves — that complete absence of seriousness.
Giving up should be our job. You're the ones who are supposed to play your hearts out and make us feel like cheering was worth it. Why are you already looking defeated before the game even starts? The criticism was sharp and relentless.
Even that reaction had been part of Pi Anta's calculated wording.
On the surface, she wanted to grab people's attention and funnel it toward Goraniz. But underneath, there was a deliberate intent to confront the defeatist mindset and culture of under-practicing that had taken root among the Goraniz players.
As a career veteran who had gone far enough in the KBO to eye free agency, Pi Anta had learned one thing: successful teams and failing teams were different from the atmosphere up.
It wasn't simply about being bright and energetic. In front of the cameras, every team looked harmonious with tight chemistry — but inside the locker room, it was a different story. Successful teams could still feel awkward in the locker room; failing teams could still get along great among themselves. That wasn't what Pi Anta meant by team atmosphere.
Practice. Self-directed training.
The difference was whether a team oriented itself toward self-improvement — or away from it.
On some teams, even after a win, the seniors would show up early to work on their weak points, and the juniors would come in early right alongside them, hoping to pick up even a scrap of know-how, growing fast in the process. Teams like that never had a shallow roster depth. Even if someone got injured, someone from below would surge up to fill the gap.
On other teams, even after a loss — even after a decisive error — nobody showed up early to practice. Worse, seniors would give juniors dirty looks for even trying. Teams like that could never succeed no matter how hard they wanted to.
That, to Pi Anta, was what a strong team — and real team chemistry — looked like.
And by that measure, Goraniz was…
These bastards barely practice at all.
You didn't even need to look. It was obvious.
There was something baseball players surprisingly didn't understand.
They might be the experts on baseball itself — but when it came to how seriously they took the game, the fans knew better.
There were teams that fans would clap and cheer for even through terrible seasons. And there were teams that got every curse in the book even after clawing into the postseason.
The passion that seeped out of every look in a player's eyes, every single play. Not just saying "thank you" to the fans, but genuinely resolving to show something to the people who came out for this game. And the fury and self-reproach when they failed to deliver.
When fans couldn't see any of that — that was when they got angry.
And Goraniz had none of it.
Which, frankly, made sense. Four straight years of last place. A team that couldn't even remember the last time they'd worn a championship ring. It was hard not to settle into a "good enough is good enough" mentality. They'd already done everything they could, after all.
What they needed was a new stimulus.
And Pi Anta believed that was her role.
"Just as planned."
She'd already signed her entry contract, but she still had a promise to keep — reaching Master tier within a month. After grinding games diligently and snagging a win, Pi Anta took a short break, searched her own name, and smiled with deep satisfaction.
Becoming the hero who saves a team in crisis.
Was there any story better engineered to concentrate the spotlight?
On top of that, the sheer ambition of a "season batting average of .400" had drawn so much attention that simply searching her name now flooded the results with articles and videos about her.
Plenty of clickbait and pure speculation, too. How exactly were they going to tell her her MBTI when she hadn't even taken the test as a man because it felt like a waste of time? Curious, she'd click in only to find nothing but "she's probably this type~" guesswork. And the videos that fabricated things she'd never said, then slapped on inflammatory thumbnails to farm engagement, had gone completely off the deep end.
Staring at one of those thumbnails, Pi Anta muttered to herself,
"I should actually say it for real sometime, so it stops being a lie."
She was a different kind of person. Truth or falsehood aside, the simple fact that she was drawing the attention of so many people made Pi Anta genuinely happy.
Even as a man, she'd been just as kind and diligent about fan service — but back then, fans had mostly been busy running away from her. Now they were volunteering to promote her name themselves. As Pi Anta, she was deeply, sincerely grateful.
But maybe that attitude looked a little worrying from the outside?
Han Yerin, Scout Team Leader of the Goraniz, called her.
"Pi Anta. Have you seen the articles online?"
"Of course. Not just the articles — I've been carefully watching all the videos too."
"The PR team is working to take action on the defamation that's gone too far. But there are just so many posts…"
"I think it's great, honestly. If possible, could you leave them up instead of taking them down?"
"Are you okay with that?"
"Absolutely. Everyone talking about me like this is so exciting."
It feels like the whole world is looking only at me.
People recognize me wherever I go.
Search my name online and there's almost too much information.
It's almost unbearable, really…
"I feel amazing!"
Hearing a voice that wasn't putting on a brave face but genuinely sounded delighted, Yerin exhaled in relief — and at the same time, felt a complicated twist in her chest.
She's an attention seeker beyond anything I imagined.
Any star was happy to receive attention, sure — but most people didn't celebrate being insulted on top of it. This was clearly someone who would find silence more painful than hate comments.
"You called because you were worried. This much is nothing. A pro lives and breathes on the fans' attention, after all. Speaking of which, when I was a man, there was this one time…"
"No. That'll be all for that. I have a separate matter to discuss."
Yerin no longer waited for Pi Anta's stories. She now knew that if she did, there was no telling when they would end.
Fortunately, cutting her off didn't seem to upset her, so Yerin decided she was done walking on eggshells.
"You're aware that you can't join the first team right away this season, correct?"
"Oh, is that so?"
"Because a fair amount of time has already passed since the season started, putting your name on the roster is impossible under the regulations."
The season started at the end of March, and it was already mid-May. A bit late to register a rookie player.
"That's a shame. But it doesn't really matter. Actually, this might even be better."
"Why is that?"
"I think integrating into the roster slowly from the bottom up is a good approach too."
If a player already drowning in spotlight suddenly locked down a first-team spot, pushback from the other players was inevitable. And on a team like Goraniz, stuck in the lower ranks for years, the players might be even more sensitive about that kind of thing.
The best way to naturally blend into an existing group was always to take on the dirty work. Having experienced both pro baseball and high school baseball in her past life, Pi Anta already knew this political-diplomatic approach well.
"Once you reach Master rank, we'll register you on the Contenders League roster immediately."
"Contenders League?"
"Think of it as the second-team league. Contenders is primarily focused on player development, so athletes registered later can still play freely."
In plain terms: while you're down there, get a read on the team atmosphere — and at the same time, put on a show of force proving you don't belong at that level.
"You sure about that?"
So Pi Anta asked again, just to confirm.
Yerin went one step further and provoked her.
Pi Anta took that as approval and laughed brightly.
"You're right. That's fair."
She needed to hit Master, fast.
With a newly kindled goal, Pi Anta felt a fresh surge of burning energy welling up inside her.