Scumbag, Madman, Lunatic, Boy Breadwinner
"Hmm…"
"Heh heh heh heh heh heh heh."
"Ahem…"
"Heh heh. Urgh. Heh heh heh heh heh."
"Could you shut up already?"
"Pwahahahaha! This crazy bastard, for real. Who are you? Who are you? Ahahahaha!"
Ho-min was rolling around clutching his stomach.
Was it really that funny?
Then again, this wasn't the first time I'd seen this scene, so the damage was pretty limited. I'd already lived through it once at the stadium.
I still had no idea why those words had come out of my mouth.
I'd told people I hadn't known it was a live broadcast, but the truth was I had. The announcer's first line had been introducing me — there was no way it wasn't live.
The announcer who'd introduced me had frozen. The commentary booth coming through her headset had completely lost it…
I'd been so flustered I barely remembered how the rest of the interview went. Somehow I got through it, and the moment I got back, the team roasting session began.
Whoever had spread the word, not a single person on the roster hadn't heard. Even Manager Park snickering at me had been a genuine shock.
After surviving all that, Ho-min's routine barely registered.
"Hey! At least your image got a little better, right? Heh heh heh."
Ho-min spun the laptop he'd been staring at around toward me.
It was a full-blown circus.
"…And you call that a better image?"
"Obviously. Up through today's game you were a complete scumbag. Now people are laughing at you. That's an upgrade."
"That's your idea of an argument…"
Ho-min wasn't entirely wrong. After the dating rumors, community consensus had been one hundred percent scumbag. Now… roughly eighty percent madman, twenty percent lunatic?
I wasn't sure which was better, but at least it had changed.
"Ah… that is genuinely hilarious. Did you apologize to the announcer? What did Yoon Jia ever do wrong?"
"I did. Groveling and everything."
"What'd she say?"
"That it was fine. Something about dating her senior nicely?"
"…She's a good person."
"Yeah. Apparently so."
"Who said that?"
"My girlfriend."
"…"
After the interview, I'd grovelled to Yoon Jia and then called Han Song-yi. Her reaction had been identical to Ho-min's. She'd laughed so hard the call nearly died.
The reason she hadn't come to the stadium today was simple enough. Things had gotten too loud, so she'd decided to lay low until it quieted down.
A heads-up would've been nice…
The next day, I walked into the stadium as the team's comedy act. Every time someone saw me, they lost it.
It was a full rest day — I wasn't even playing — and I was still drawing every eye in the place. If there was a silver lining, the booing had eased up a little.
We headed down to Daejeon for the away series against the Unicorns, and I drew the start for game one of the three-game set.
Honestly, I was a little curious. First road game since the dating rumors. At home at least we'd had our own fans. This was enemy territory. Plenty of our supporters would make the trip, sure — but it was still someone else's house. I couldn't help wondering how the crowd would react.
Before the game, SBC's Jo Hyeon-jeong, the day's broadcast announcer, wanted a short interview. I would rather have died… and somehow I ended up standing next to her anyway.
Nothing special. Today's mindset, how my body felt…
Then, just as we were wrapping up:
"Kang Hajin has been absolutely on fire these past few days, hasn't he?"
"…Me?"
"Yes!"
"Ah… yes."
"So many people love it. Could I hear it just once?"
"…H-hear what, exactly?"
For a second I was sure I'd misheard. There was no other explanation for someone asking me to do that.
"You know — Kang Hajin's catchphrase? Right?"
"…"
This absolute lunatic…
She was staring at me with sparkling eyes, full of pure expectation…
"…Who… are you?"
"Kyaaa~! Thank youuu~!"
I was done. Finished. How long was this going to follow me…
I'd finished my last Unicorns start with a no-decision, so I took the mound today locked in and determined to get the win. My condition felt good, I'd gone over Ho-min's analysis several times, and Ko Mandeok and I had our game plan locked down tight.
Yesterday the Hawks had gritted their teeth just to avoid a sweep, and Marte had collapsed early, so the bullpen had taken a hit. Fortunately Jo Sangjun and Kang Chanjung hadn't pitched, which meant my goal today was simple: hand the mound to those two with a lead. Hold them to minimal runs for at least seven innings. Easy, right?
"Kang Hajin retires the side in order again in the bottom of the fourth. That's already his sixth strikeout. Just one hit allowed so far."
"The four-seam and changeup combination is outstanding today. That four-seam is painting every corner, and the Unicorns hitters can't touch it."
"From Kang Hajin's perspective, it has to be frustrating that his team still hasn't scored."
"Exactly. The Savers keep putting runners on every inning, but nothing connects. Five left on base already."
It had been the same last time I faced the Unicorns… no runs. We'd put a man on third with one out and then struck out twice. Or hit into a double play and then ripped a double right after…
At this rate the dugout mood is going to tank…
The hitters looked especially rushed today. You could see it in the way their bats kept chasing obvious bait pitches.
They'd talked a big game about putting runs up early. Whether that was the problem or not, nothing was working.
The game kept rolling. Fifth inning. Sixth. Our hitters still scoreless. I'd given up one more hit — two total, still no runs.
By this point, that recent game kept flashing through my mind. The complete-game shutout loss to Na Hong-gi and his pure fastball arsenal.
"The Savers… fail another bunt attempt. The runner is out at second. Now first and one out."
"That was right at the pitcher. They nearly got the batter-runner too. Just a slight change of angle and it works — but he got greedy trying to save himself. You can't do that. Execute the play clean."
"There's Kang Hajin. Locked in on the game."
"He has to be frustrated. This keeps happening specifically on days Kang Hajin starts. You almost wish he'd been in the lineup as a hitter too. The man is on fire at the plate lately."
I finished the seventh still scoreless. In the top half, the Unicorns' new pitcher had looked briefly shaky, but the failed bunt flipped the momentum and that was that.
Then the top of the eighth. They made another pitching change.
Setup man Lee Hyeong-jong. The Winning Setup Relief was in — the Unicorns were going all-in on today's game.
"Ah… they can't cash in first and second with one out! Seo Gyeongmin smokes one, but a spectacular defensive play turns it into a double play!"
A ball that should have hugged the third-base line fair was snared by a diving third baseman, and the runner at second couldn't get back. Double play. Just like that, the top of the eighth was over.
I watched it happen and climbed the mound again.
Nobody on our side said a word to me. My pitch count was already closing in on ninety, and still no one was warming in the bullpen. Manager Park Donghoon had clearly decided this game was mine.
"One-fifty-six four-seam fastball! Twelfth strikeout of the game! Kang Hajin still has gas in the eighth!"
"This is a pitcher who spent all of last year bouncing between bullpen roles… and look how far he's come."
"Kang Hajin holds the mound through the eighth. The Savers' final regulation at-bat is about to begin."
It wasn't good.
One out. Two outs. Watching the outs tick up one by one, a hollow feeling started to settle in. I knew I shouldn't feel that way — I kept telling myself that — but knowing and controlling it were two different things.
This isn't going to work…
Going back out there like this felt wrong. But the bullpen was empty. We could be heading to extras — someone should have been getting loose by now — and yet Manager Park showed no sign of moving.
"Haa…"
"…Tired?"
"Ah. No. I'm fine. But shouldn't someone be warming up?"
"…Yeah."
Ko Mandeok might have already read my state. His face was full of worry… he was trying to smile through it, but as always, the man's acting was terrible.
"Whew… let's go."
Three outs. Watching our hitter dribble a weak grounder and walk back, I picked up my glove.
"Ah!!! There it goes!!! Walk-off!! A solo home run just clearing the left-field wall!! The Unicorns take this one!!"
"The changeup caught too much of the middle. He pitched a brilliant game, but his command wavered just a fraction at the end."
"Kang Hajin drops to a knee on the mound. You can see the anguish. Ah… he's slamming the mound."
"He can't do that. Not with his right hand!"
"How… ah… how heartbreaking."
"Kang Hajin pitched an outstanding game today. He gave everything he had. Just one mistake. One single miss among a hundred and fourteen pitches."
Manager Park tore into me hard. What if I'd wrecked my right hand…
Seo Gyeongmin, Ko Mandeok, and the rest of the hitters were so apologetic it made me more embarrassed than anything.
Han Song-yi asked if my hand was okay, then for some reason started crying. Calming her down took a serious amount of work.
Ho-min… that bastard just spent the whole time roasting me. Kept cackling about whether I was getting bullied on this team too…
In the communities, the nicknames I'd been carrying — scumbag, madman, lunatic — were replaced by a new one: Boy Breadwinner.
Watching people who'd spent days cussing me out and mocking me turn around and start cheering within a few days… well.
Still, trading one loss for a complete shift in public mood didn't feel like such a bad deal.
Ah — and the next day, our team really did win by ten runs.
Then the game after that, a five-run victory.
"I told you you're the team outcast. Heh heh heh heh heh."
I… might actually be.
One thing after another, but by the end of May our team had put together a solid stretch of results.
A rotation billed as the best in the league. A locked-down closer. A bullpen better than last year's. And a lineup with a real core. We weren't a flash-in-the-pan hot start anymore — we were putting up consistent numbers, and everyone was calling us one of the league's top two.
Even so, we were still in second. Because as crazy as we were playing, the Raiders were just as crazy. Sometimes two games back, sometimes dead even — we held second the whole way and still hadn't reclaimed first.
But the clubhouse atmosphere was better than it had ever been, and even our biggest weakness — the bottom of the order — was slowly coming alive around Ko Mandeok. Everyone on the roster felt like we could make a run at any time.
May ended. June 5th arrived.
Those insane bastards had actually cut me from the Olympics.