The Man Who Doesn't Care About the Rules
"What the hell is going on here?"
Everyone had something to say about my single in the first inning. All of it positive, of course. But no matter how I looked at it, the praise was getting way out of hand.
In that same game, Jeong Jong-seong had gone two-for-something with five RBIs, including a grand slam. It hadn't been the go-ahead run or the game-winner, but nobody could deny he'd been the most impactful hitter on the field. Yet his name was almost nowhere to be found in the articles. Instead, every single write-up was about me—the guy who managed exactly one hit and one RBI.
Was this for real? I genuinely couldn't make sense of it. A few pieces even claimed to quote Major League scouts, and the content was... something else.
After the game I came home and watched the rebroadcast. Listening to the commentators only confirmed how badly everyone had misunderstood what happened.
"What do you mean I waited on it and just tapped it lightly?"
No. Absolutely not. I'd been swinging for the fences with everything I had.
"But looking at the video... yeah, I can kind of see how they got that idea."
"What?"
I muted the TV for a second and pulled up the clip of my at-bat that was already circulating online. On the screen, a hitter opens his front side early, thinking cutter inside, and takes a greedy full swing. Instead a four-seam fastball comes right down the middle, barely catches the end of the bat, and somehow floats over the first baseman's head.
"Where exactly are you seeing that?"
"If you slow it down... it looks like you waited an extra beat before swinging."
"······"
Of course it did! I'd been sitting on the cutter!
Na Hong-gi's four-seamer and cutter usually differed by about five to seven kilometers an hour—sometimes more. So I'd deliberately started my swing a little late, timing it for the cutter.
Ho-min watched the clip again after hearing my explanation.
"Yeah, but nobody else knows that. To anyone who doesn't know the situation, this looks exactly like you waited until the last second and just punched it the other way."
"Huh..."
"Kang Hajin, the guy who put the team first and abandoned his own greed... that does not sound like you at all."
"You little—"
"Why are you so pissed about this, though? Everything's going your way."
He had a point. When I thought about it...
"Getting praised for something I didn't even do is making my conscience rebel—"
"Stop talking bullshit."
Yeah... even I had to admit that was a stretch.
"More than that, honestly, I don't even get what 'team batting' is supposed to be."
"Where the hell did that come from all of a sudden?"
"Team batting, simply put, means sacrificing yourself for the team, right?"
"······ Not exactly, but close enough. Let's go with that."
"But bunting is already hard as hell. Is team batting even a real skill? You're telling me a hitter can send a pitch wherever he wants? When he doesn't even know what's coming or where it's going?"
"Ah~"
"And even if it were possible, it's still ridiculously selfish. The guys ahead of you already swung however they wanted, got their hits, and reached base. Why do I have to do the team-batting thing? I'd rather take a full cut, drive in a run, and maybe even go yard if I'm lucky."
"······"
"If you've got the skill to put the ball wherever you want, why sacrifice? Just hit a damn single."
"That's pure nonsense... and yet somehow it kind of makes sense."
Nonsense? I thought it was pretty logical.
"Anyway, why the sudden rant? I asked why you were flipping out over the articles."
"Isn't it obvious? I don't want to do that crap. I'm not planning on it either. Next time I get a bases-loaded chance, I'm going for the home run."
"Holy shit."
"And if I fail, I'll get twice the hate—on top of all the praise I just got. 'Look at that greedy bastard,' and so on."
"That's always been the case with you, though."
"No. Think about it. When a greedy guy does something greedy again, people just go, 'Yeah, that's just who he is.' Same old insults. But now they've stuck me with this 'selfless team player' frame."
The look on his face said he still wasn't getting it.
"When a good guy turns bad, he gets more hate than a guy who was already a bastard!"
"Huh?"
"When a villain does villain shit, nobody cares. But when a good guy does villain shit, suddenly he's a traitor, a sellout."
"······ What kind of nonsense is that? So basically you're going to do whatever you want, but you don't want more hate than you're already getting?"
This bastard. He sure knew how to cut straight to the point.
"You could've just said that instead of all the rambling. And does that even make sense? You think people are going to see you differently just because you 'team-batted' once? Once a psycho, always a psycho."
"······"
"Who's going to look differently at the guy who took one hit and put two people in the hospital?"
"But the articles right now—!"
"It's not going to happen, so snap out of it. The articles might be like that, but the internet is still full of people trash-talking you. I wasted my time listening to this."
Yeah... I lost that round. Lately I kept feeling like I was losing ground to Ho-min.
Inside a spacious office, two men sat across from each other at a gleaming table.
"We have to lock him down no matter what!"
The first man raised his voice the moment he sat down. The other simply wore a mild smile.
"I saw him too. Looks like a solid player. But what was the name again? Traven Jack? The agent."
"That's right. Traven Jack."
"Have you spoken with him?"
"...He's no pushover."
"Figured as much just looking at him. He's completely confident in his client. That's why he's planning to pit every team in the league against each other."
"······"
"If things keep going like this, how much do you think we'll end up paying to bring that Korean player over?"
"But still—"
"Everyone knows our Red Sox rotation is going to completely fall apart after this season."
"That's—"
"Let me finish. Both our number one and number two starters are definitely leaving. The only way to fill those spots is free agency."
"Which is exactly why we need that player even more!"
"If you were in that agent's shoes—knowing our situation perfectly—would you settle for a reasonable number?"
"······"
"Let's not tip our hand too early. I'm not saying we won't go after him. Let's just watch how the other teams move first. We can make contact after that."
"Un...derstood."
This was the general manager's office of the Boston Red Sox. The two men were the GM himself and the head of scouting.
"But the Yankees and Dodgers are showing deeper interest than we expected."
"Ha... those guys never stop collecting."
"Texas is in the mix too. What if they offer more than we anticipated?"
"What do we do? If it's completely out of reach, then there's nothing we can do."
"GM!"
"Think about it. Their season isn't even over yet. He could suddenly slump. He could get hurt. Who knows?"
"...Understood."
"Five years, a hundred million? Do we really need him that badly? Does our team need that player?"
This was the Dodgers. General Manager John McGee tilted his head and questioned the head of baseball operations.
"I don't think it's an overpay."
"Look, I know he's a good player, but that much? With everything included we're looking at a hundred twenty million."
"He's a two-way player."
"Boss, are you forgetting how many of those two-way guys we've watched and then had to discard?"
"This one is different. You can see it."
"No. They've all been 'different' so far. Honestly, those Korean league stars who come over here—how have most of them turned out?"
"But—"
"And he's only been on the radar for two years. Zero experience. No international competition either. Nothing's been proven."
"So you're just going to let the Yankees take him?"
John McGee shook his head at that.
"Shorten the contract."
"Excuse me?"
"One or two years should be enough."
"You think the player will accept that? Why would he come all the way over just to risk getting cut after a year or two? Word is his current team offered five million after taxes."
"Ho~ They can throw that kind of money in that league?"
"That's beside the point. If we put those terms on the table, he'll just look elsewhere. He can aim high, and if nothing satisfies him, he can simply stay put."
McGee tapped his fingers on the desk, lost in thought. The operations head waited in silence.
"Asian players have gotten way too expensive."
"They're delivering that much value."
"Huu... Do we really have to lock him down?"
"You haven't forgotten Lee, the one the Angels stole from us last season?"
"Ha! Of course not."
"Lee's going to clear thirty home runs easily again this year."
"Huu..."
"And this guy is hitting home runs as a pitcher at roughly the same pace as Lee."
"Different leagues, though."
"Lee put up similar home-run numbers back in Korea too."
McGee fell silent again.
"······ Two years, forty million."
"GM!"
"Let's put that on the table first. We can negotiate from there."
The operations head knew it was time to back off.
"Understood."
"Good. Get the ball rolling."
Similar conversations were playing out in other front offices. Only the years and the dollar amounts differed from team to team.
Time kept moving, and the season barreled toward its final stretch. Once August ended and mid-September arrived, a few teams started looking ahead to next year.
Our team, meanwhile, held a rock-solid first place. The gap over second was so large that standings anxiety had long since disappeared.
Even with the rain-wrecked schedule in August, I still pocketed four wins. In September I hit twenty, then won one more for twenty-one. I completely left Grant Visner—my only real competition for the wins title—in the dust and locked down first place. The ERA and strikeout races didn't even have contenders.
Online, posts telling me to hurry up and get the hell out to America were popping up everywhere. The same treatment Lee Gijun used to get... now it was my turn.
"Aren't you going to work out?"
Ho-min, who couldn't stand the sight of me resting, started needling me again.
"Hey. From this point on, rest is more important than training. You know that, right?"
"Bullshit. You're just making excuses because you don't want to move."
We were bickering and enjoying our Monday off when the phone rang.
"Do you have a moment to talk?"
Jack, out of nowhere.
"Yeah."
"A stable long-term deal with a lot of money, or a short-term deal followed by a re-signing for even more money. Which do you prefer?"
Jack always asked things like this with zero preamble. A little more detail would have been nice.
"How much is 'a lot' and how much is 'even more'?"
"More than you can imagine."
"······"
So how much is that, exactly?
"What's your take, Jack?"
"I recommend the short-term route."
"Why?"
"Because you're going to succeed."
Look at that confidence.
"······ I'll go with whatever you think is better. I'll still review the terms myself, of course."
"Understood."
He was about to hang up the second he finished speaking, so I hurriedly stopped him.
"But what is this? It's not even contract season yet."
"Offers are already coming in from various places."
Wasn't this that whole premature contact thing? If something went wrong, wouldn't the whole deal fall apart?
"······ Is that allowed?"
"This is how it usually works."
"······"
"As long as we don't get caught."
Was that really all it took? Jack sounded so matter-of-fact that I had nothing left to say.
"Ah, just handle it however you want."
"Understood."
Jack... was a man who didn't give a damn about the rules.