An Unprecedented Son of a Bitch
The Grizzlies' win in the first game of the series owed more to their starting pitcher than to anything else.
After all, J-Lo had managed to gut out eight innings while giving up five runs.
On a day when the Doubles' powerhouse lineup was less than sharp, even five runs surrendered proved too much to overcome.
The Grizzlies, on the other hand, played squarely to the strength of their own lineup.
Most of their hitters couldn't hit for power, but they could certainly hit for average.
They worked their way on base, and once they were standing on the bags, Sung Ji-chang swept them home alongside Kim Seong-ju.
Kim Seong-ju, to be fair, had always been a quality hitter by Korean baseball standards — and Sung Ji-chang, even after coming up from the minors and getting smacked around by Noh In-seong, was no scrub.
This was 2051, when a mild meniscus tear healed in no time, as long as it wasn't a full rupture.
The young player who had spent all of July cycling between the hospital and rehab finally returned in early August.
Noh In-seong's personality remained as rotten as ever. He was still just as insufferable toward opposing teams, too.
The only difference was that after witnessing a genuinely unhinged lunatic, the frequency with which he lost his mind in interviews had dropped considerably.
"What are you staring at? You want me to carve a tattoo into you like that junkie bastard next time I take the mound?"
"......"
And after that incident, friction with the madman's own organization had gone quiet as well.
Some primal instinct told him that if he acted like his usual self again, next time he'd be staring at a hospital ceiling.
Against a guy who bites into a negotiation whether the other side is strong or weak, the bullies who only pick fights with the feeble simply have no answer.
The selective mudslinger chose silence.
"As for Sung Hyun-tak... unfortunately, he won't be back until after fall ball begins. The injury turned out to be worse than we expected."
Astonishingly, the damage Sung Hyun-tak suffered in the collision itself hadn't been all that severe.
The problem was that a pre-existing injury had worsened.
"A hamstring? What the hell is that supposed to mean."
It wasn't the catastrophic kind that snaps clean off, but it still called for at least a month of recovery.
Which meant the team's resident clown — currently whooping it up in rehab at the hospital, no doubt — would be off the field for the foreseeable future.
"And as for our captain — Jo In-soo needs some rest too, so... he'll likely be limited to pinch-hitting duty through September."
Jo In-soo's injury wasn't serious in itself. His legs had simply been worn down for ages.
He needed two to three weeks on the shelf, after which he'd be perfectly capable of returning to the starting lineup.
But it was time to start banking experience for the rookie, and to ease the wear on the starter besides.
Rookie catcher Lim Jae-min's first start was decided.
After the game, Noh In-seong paid a visit to both patients.
Sung Hyun-tak was lying around at home, so the two of them tore into some fried chicken together.
"Ah, man, that was so close... If we'd had just one more fan, we could've won that one."
"...I'm the fan here? Is that what this is?"
Noh In-seong needled Jo In-soo, who lay sprawled across the hospital bed with his leg wrapped in layers of bandage.
"But I can't move, can I?"
This was, after all, the fastest man on the roster — a guy who dodged punches at point-blank range.
Even if he swung his 'upper body's still fine!' fist around, he'd just sidestep with a 'but my footwork doesn't work, does it?'
"Agh, this little shit, honestly..."
Still, it was rather endearing that he'd come the day after losing just to entertain him.
"What's the plan for tomorrow? Has Jae-min memorized all the scouting data?"
"If he hasn't, I'll beat it into him. Fists know the answer."
Key pieces had fallen away, but what could you do? The dentures go in for a while.
Noh In-seong showed no sign of strain in front of the injured.
Because the thing that annoyed him most was that he knew perfectly well they were in the middle of career years.
"Heal up fast, whether you play fall ball or not. You won't be on the championship podium, so at least come watch."
In front of the sick, Noh In-seong committed no atrocities.
One player from the second team to fill Sung Hyun-tak's spot.
And one catcher from the second team to fill a spot that would sit empty considerably longer.
Song Joo-cheol and Kim Chang-seok were hastily called up.
"I'm Song Joo-cheol."
"I'm Kim Chang-seok."
Both had spent a fair while in the minors, so they exchanged wordless nods of recognition with Song Joo-in and Pi Jeong-doo.
But toward Ji Hak-seong, holding down the utility infielder's role, or rookie Lim Jae-min, occupying the backup catcher's spot—
""......""
Both of them stared long and hard with distinctly uncomfortable eyes, then turned their heads away.
Lim Jae-min, too green to grasp what was happening, merely looked baffled — but
"...Ah-hah? These bastards?"
Noh In-seong, whose experience and tenure were both top-of-the-line, understood immediately.
A quiet, simmering jealousy — and the indignant resentment of why does a punk like that get to be here?
He'd felt those exact emotions plenty of times himself, once upon a time, so he could read them like a book.
"Alright, everyone, take good care of them! You two, unpack your things — you're not playing in today's game, so get some rest!"
"Yes, sir!"
Noh In-seong watched the two players snap to attention at Jeong Im-taek's orders like a warden monitoring his inmates.
The second game ended in a victory so smooth you'd never guess how much they'd suffered the day before.
First, with Caleb's torn fingernail ruling him out, Andy got the start.
Across from him stood Hector.
Hector's command had been pure roulette last time out, but today his delivery was remarkably consistent.
THWAAACK—!!
Right down the middle.
Intentionally walking Noh In-seong was one thing — a defensible choice, even. But failing to overpower the bottom of the order with pure stuff was another.
The price of challenging him when the bases were so crowded he couldn't even be walked was utterly gruesome.
The quick hook came, naturally. Three innings, seven earned runs, and the Grizzlies' fans' wardrobes left in shambles.
From that point on, the Grizzlies would have to score against Andy.
"YEAH!"
Andy, in peak form, buried the opposition under a wall of four-seamers, sinkers, and sliders.
The price of losing Sung Hyun-tak was Kim Jun-soo stepping into the starting second baseman's role.
The bat took an enormous hit, but the glove improved by leaps and bounds.
With his modest velocity generating plenty of balls in play, this was hardly a bad situation for a contact-heavy pitcher like Andy.
Before anyone noticed, it was 10-0 in the seventh.
The lead was comfortable and Andy had already thrown over a hundred pitches — a perfect moment for a change.
In came the man for moments like these. So Dong-yeop took the mound.
"Ugh!"
So Dong-yeop — the indestructible shoulders, the man treated as physically incapable of harming his own arm — was pulled from the game with a jaw injury.
For the fans, this was the first time So Dong-yeop's name had ever appeared on an injury list.
Winning the second game was all well and good, but the Doubles' casualties were anything but trivial.
First, Caleb's torn nail would take two weeks to grow back and harden.
So Dong-yeop needed at least ten days of observation.
"I can pitch!"
"...No, even if you can, it'd make us the bad guys, you idiot."
True to his nickname, the Indestructible: just a bruise and some scraped skin, the bones perfectly fine.
But the impact site carried a risk of concussion, so rest was ordered.
On top of all this, the starting catcher and second baseman were both out with month-long injuries.
"I'm Jeong Chang-sik."
"I'm Jin Joo-hyuk. A pleasure to meet you all!"
Naturally, more players came scrambling up from the second team.
One starter, one reliever. Two more pitchers called up.
"...Am I currently living through the September expansion-roster period ahead of schedule?"
The faces in the clubhouse had shifted so drastically that the manager half wondered if he was hallucinating.
Jeong Im-taek now had to sort these players into those he'd keep using and those who'd become next year's trade chips.
A manager's lot: giving everyone a chance while separating jade from stone.
"Something about these bastards stinks."
But from Noh In-seong's vantage point, they looked an awful lot like guys plotting something.
They huddled together constantly, only socializing with each other, and responded coldly to any player they perceived as holding a spot they wanted.
"H-hello...?"
"...Tsk. Someone in a bad mood today?"
With Lim Jae-min and Yeom Dong-goo, they sometimes didn't return greetings at all.
For a veteran of Noh In-seong's caliber, one look was enough to tell whether this was rookie-on-rookie territorialism or a deliberate campaign of exclusion.
If Jo In-soo had been around, this blatant nonsense would have been reported straight up the chain and stamped out at the manager's level.
But the bandaged captain wasn't exactly clairvoyant lying there in bed — how was he supposed to detect internal friction from a hospital room?
"Time to start putting these dogs in their place, I'd say?"
Noh In-seong fixed his gaze on the young players who had made his list.
It never once occurred to him that he was a rookie himself.
But before all that, Noh In-seong had unfinished business.
"The appointed hour for drilling a hole in the bear's skull has arrived!"
For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he stood upon that hallowed ground in the heart of Jamsil — the one place reserved solely for pitchers.
Noh In-seong planted his foot on the mound's rubber and fired his first pitch at the opposing leadoff hitter.
"Strike!"
"...Ah, damn it. This is why I hate facing him."
The ball came barreling in toward his body, and he ducked in a panic — only for it to curl serenely back into the strike zone.
The next pitch broke toward the outside corner, noticeably slower than the last, so he read it as a ball sneaking in for a strike.
"Swing! Strike!"
"Why on earth did you swing at that? It was a garbage ball."
"...Shut up."
Just as that damned brat on the mound said, a lazy 140 km/h four-seamer had drifted through the outer half.
And then, dead center.
"Strike three! Batter out!"
First they'd been fooled by the pitch mix, then by the velocity gap.
The leadoff hitter trudged back to the dugout feeling like the victim of a con job,
Crack—!
"God damn it... what the hell did that bastard ever have against me."
Seeing the insufferable Sung Ji-chang stride to the plate next, Noh In-seong let out a sigh.
It was looking like today would not be an easy day for anyone.
The Grizzlies had brought a bullpen day. Not just any bullpen day, either — a total-war, every-arm-on-deck bullpen day.
"Either way, the Superstars are next on the Doubles' schedule. This is the game that matters!"
Noh In-seong, assuming he'd be walked as a matter of course, was already halfway toward first base when—
"...And where do you think you're going? Nobody's declared an intentional walk yet."
At the umpire's words, he found himself forced into an unexpected at-bat.
"Wow. You're actually pitching to me? I'm so damn touched I could cry. Hey, Toothbrush."
"...Stop making fun of people's names and get in the box."
It was the first time anyone had called him that since elementary school, and Jeong Han-sol was caught somewhat off guard.
But he remembered what his manager had said, fairly brimming with confidence.
'Sure, he hit a homer yesterday, but after that it was nothing but an intentional-walk parade, right?'
'He's pitching today, so he'll want to conserve his body. Let's battle him in the first at-bat, at least.'
The instructions came with the caveat that it would be a hard-fought battle — but orders were orders.
Jeong Han-sol quietly settled into the outer half of the plate and opened his mitt.
THWAAAAACK—!!
No ball ever arrived in that outstretched mitt.
"Ah. If they pull that line one more time, I'm just gonna kick him."
Had they simply walked him, he'd have graciously contented himself with stealing second and draining their pitcher's stamina. But no — they had to battle.
Jeong Han-sol's lament would require a mere two hours to grow far, far louder.
Hot on the heels of his perfect game, Noh In-seong had set his sights on another world record — and proceeded to peel the bear hide clean off its carcass.
From the bears' perspective, busy preparing for fall baseball, it must have felt like nothing short of an atrocity.
"This is Korea. Did you not know bears are only ever put down in Jirisan?"
Charging them with the crime of roaming wild outside the zoo, Noh In-seong had them stuffed and mounted.
A game where the sole RBI came from his own bat, and where he took the mound all the way to the final out to seal the victory.
Among two-way players, this feat had never once been accomplished — not a single time.
As this once-in-history, utterly unprecedented game played out before the entire world of professional baseball, the Grizzlies — vanquished by a 114-pitch shutout — were promptly shoved back down into fourth place.
"Only three more games left against us. What a shame. If they pushed the series back instead of forcing a double header, you could come out and get beat up one more time."
"...Please, just GO AWAY...!!"
Instead of handing a consolation treat to the rival he despised, he'd swung one more haymaker — and the salt-in-the-wound interview was just a bonus.