The Great Book of Grudges
The two-game series against the Superstars ended in a thoroughly satisfying blowout win.
But everyone was too busy buzzing about something else — how much money the opposing team was going to spend next year.
"I hear there's even a rumor going around that they'll drop ten trillion won?"
"My, my. I can practically hear your price tags inflating, gentlemen. You upcoming free agents better buy the drinks."
The bus was already pulling into the neighborhood near In-seong's apartment when he tossed out a casual question to the whole team.
"So what's everyone doing tomorrow?"
At that, the boys lit up and scrambled to sketch out their schedules for everything except tomorrow afternoon's training.
"Afternoon conditioning is mostly just light work anyway! Maybe I'll take the missus out for a date tomorrow night!"
Some players were thinking productively, at least.
"I'm just going to sleep like the dead, stretch, and sleep some more."
For Andy, who'd thrown today and was running on fumes, it was the only logical conclusion.
Ironically, the answer to In-seong's question arrived from Manager Jeong Im-taek, right before In-seong could give it himself.
"Alright, alright! Everyone, tomorrow's practice will be short — we'll just check your condition and call it a day! It's a home stand anyway!"
WAAAAAAH---!!!
A genuinely heartwarming sound, words that sent every man's morale skyrocketing, straight out of the manager's mouth.
"There you go. You people need days off too. That's the beauty of a two-game series, isn't it?"
And that wasn't all.
Before the final sixth game arrived — the one that would burst the heads of all the rain-delayed teams — Gwangju, Incheon, Busan, and Suwon were all scheduled for two-game series as well.
With rest days sprinkled throughout, the starting pitchers would have extra room to get their conditioning right.
It was a call only a former pitcher could make — a manager who genuinely loved taking care of his arms.
And as it happened, Noh In-seong, slated to start the second game of the Gwangju series, and Jeong In-woo, starting the game before it, were the beneficiaries.
"In-woo, In-seong — you two are excused from tomorrow's afternoon session. Rest up, get your bodies tuned, and come back ready."
"SIUUU---!!"
In-seong was over the moon.
Screeeech---!!
"Well then, everybody off. You teachers have drills to run tomorrow, so enjoy the grind."
Wooooo---you trash bastards---!!
In-seong flipped the middle finger on his way off the bus.
Home at last.
The next day, In-seong woke at that awkward hour that was neither morning nor lunch, stretched himself loose, and was deep in deliberation over what food to order today.
His series against the Superstars had ended one win and one loss, but Daegu had unexpectedly swept both of their own games, so the count had only ticked down by one.
Magic number remaining: 6.
Still, In-seong carried the quiet confidence that he could knock at least one of those numbers down himself.
"Well, yeah. The Gwangju bastards are up next."
His chest swelled at the thought — a full day of rest today, and then he'd go beat the living daylights out of those damned bastards...
"Mm. Weekday mornings call for pork bone soup, obviously."
Just as he was about to feast once again in the aftermath of a game day—
Beep-beep-beep-beep— chime—
"Mom's here!"
"In-seong, we brought you presents..."
"Oppa! Guam was gorgeous! There were coral reefs and everything!"
On a holiday morning, after what felt like forever, his family finally came home.
A flustered In-seong frantically slapped the lid back on the pork bone soup and rushed to greet them at the front door, where—
"NO!!"
CRASH-bang-crash...
Their travel bags collided head-on with the towering mountain of delivery containers he'd been hoarding all this time.
"...In-seong. What is all this?"
His mother's kind face transformed in an instant into that of a vengeful demon, and she proposed to him the Yacha Rules.
"...Ah, right, I should've cleaned this up ages ago..."
A tired young man who had completely forgotten he was supposed to have done a marathon cleaning session the day before.
Coming home to a place she'd left spotless, only to find it strewn with every manner of delivery container, sent his mother's fury soaring to the heavens.
"What do you think you're doing?! Clean it up RIGHT NOOOW----!!"
CRACK!
"GWAAAHIK!!"
Like the housewife from an old cartoon beating her cat with a broom, In-seong took a swat to the back and went flying sky-high.
Well, to be fair, In-seong had eaten the food himself, so cleaning up after himself was only natural.
"Ugh, I have to haul all this out by myself? This is an outrage. An OUTRAGE."
If he'd been the kind of man who actually cared about such things, the room never would have been left in a state you could trip and fall over in the first place.
He was grumbling his way through the recycling run alone when it happened.
"Oh! Hyung!"
"Well, look who it is. Come to think of it, it IS summer break for you, huh."
There stood the neighborhood kid he'd helped before, along with the stationery store lady and the tabloid hack and— wait. Hack...
"...Reporter Jeong, there's no news to dig up today. Shouldn't you go look someplace el...?"
"Huh? No, sir, I'm out taking a walk with my family right now..."
Family. Dad. The kid. The stationery lady. Dad? Dad?!
"Hold on, hold on. You're telling me this kid is YOURS?"
"Haha, hello there! Yes, I'm this boy's father."
Reporter Jeong — that money-grubbing hack who'd gotten pretty chummy with In-seong since the inaugural Inside Pitch Championship.
The revelation that the kid's father was this man took a fat steamy dump on In-seong's brain, first thing on a Thursday morning.
Well, he did have business to attend to anyway, so after parting ways with the stationery store owner, In-seong followed the kid-and-dad tag team into a café.
"Ahh, refreshing--!"
"...So what you're saying is, THIS thing grows up to become Reporter Jeong? That's honestly kind of gross."
"Hey, that's not very ni..."
Naturally, the man's taste in words ran to creative insults rather than compliments, as was his signature style.
But having his boy on hand paid off for Reporter Jeong — he walked away with a couple of fresh stories.
Small problem: the source material was his own family.
"Well, you know how it is. Remember when I announced I'd be making a targeted start against Gwangju a while back?"
"...Mm, yes. You did do that, didn't you."
"In that announcement, I made a reference to a certain kid... and the kid I happen to know? Turns out it's THIS guy."
"...Wait. Noh In-seong's... Gwangju video, oh my god. Come to think of it, you two DO live in the same neighborhood, don't you?"
For a moment the world froze solid — then melted instantly in the burning ambition of a father working an angle for his own son.
"...Whoa. That is... that is genuinely fascinating. Would you care to elaborate in detail?"
"Heh heh. Now you're finally speaking my language."
While the two men hatched their little conspiracy—
"I want ice cream!"
"Sure, sure, kiddo. Eat it right here in front of me. Your dad's going into business with me, so make it a triple-scoop."
"Yay!"
The kid went for the jackpot.
And of course, having demolished it in the blink of an eye and gone back for seconds, the inevitable followed.
"If you were going to bring a child out, you should have at least SUPERVISED what he was ea..."
"Gah! Not there! GAH!"
"Hnngh, my tummy hurts..."
He'd learned through bitter life experience that greed always exacts its price — a lot of it, a real LOT of it.
"But it made me happy, so the pain was worth it!"
...And before anything else — boys will be boys.
"It's fine. At least nothing bRO—ack!"
"Ugh, this doomed husband of mine, I swear!"
The old adage about men significantly shortening their life expectancy was hard at work again today.
What In-seong wanted from Reporter Jeong was simple.
"First, we hammer them hard through the press, right out of the gate."
[EXCLUSIVE] Threatening a Young Baseball Fan — Is This What a Pro Looks Like? Tigers Hate Children!
[FOLLOW-UP] Starting Pitcher "Mr. A," Who Tormented an Innocent Neighborhood Kid, Runs Into Noh In-seong Passing By...
[INTERVIEW] Noh In-seong: "I WILL destroy you. That kid is my friend."
As far as I remember, Oh Yeon-seok was starting one of the games in that series.
It'd be great if they get shaken up nice and good over this, but the other side has taken their lumps from me plenty of times by now, so they've probably built up a tolerance.
"And that's where I need one more helping hand."
Hey kid, you still haven't collected your reward from me, have you?
First, there was one piece of intel he needed to get his hands on.
"Hello, General Manager? Do you happen to have any plans to strip-mine those Tiger bastards next year? ...You don't?"
Well, well. Perfect. That just opened the gates of hell.
Your name just went into the Book of Noh In-seong's Grudges, so you can go ahead and abandon any hope of dying peacefully.
Two numbers. We plan to rip out a maximum of four and then take it easy, so.
Gwangju was trembling.
"...Ah, of ALL people, it had to be this bastard again."
Because Noh In-seong, returning as their next opponent, had come swaggering in absolutely full of himself once more.
They were clearly a bunch of broken-down husks, several of their players injured deep into the season.
So why did it still feel like they were hopelessly outmatched?
"Isn't it possible that Noh In-seong has just been gaslighting us this entire time?"
"...What."
The reason everyone assumed they'd lose at least one game was In-seong's track record.
But why was that a given?
"He threw a shutout against the Grizzlys last time? Doesn't that strike you as a little odd?"
Maybe he'd just been lucky twice in a row, and here they all were, quaking in their boots?
These conversations circulating within the front office passed through the manager and spread to the players.
"That's right! Even that bastard can't play his whole career riding an endless wave of luck!"
"Time he lost one! Getting beaten up once is what makes you human!"
Everyone nodded along, declaring that this time they would not be played for fools by his mind games.
"Hello there!"
Ah. That is, right up until they saw the ceremonial first pitcher.
A ten-year-old boy stood on the mound, wearing the signed team jacket In-seong had personally set aside for him.
"...Wh... why is THAT kid out there?!"
The man most stricken with mortal terror was that day's starting pitcher.
"Yeon-seok, what on earth's gotten into you? Calm down!"
"How the hell am I supposed to CALM DOWN?! That's the KID!"
It was Oh Yeon-seok.
Ever since getting shelled by In-seong yet again, Oh Yeon-seok had thrown everything he had into rebuilding his numbers.
But what good was trying your best? Give up double-digit runs twice in a season, and that season is dead and buried.
Eat as many innings as you want — nobody can throw well in every single start.
The deeper into the season he went, the more worn down he became, same as anyone.
"Hah... hah..."
[Oh Yeon-seok just can't find the strike zone today. He looks badly rattled out there.]
[There's a rumor going around that the child who threw the first pitch today is that same boy at the center of Oh Yeon-seok's recent controversy.]
[If that's true, then the Doubles came here today with the knives already sharpened. Haha. Scary stuff.]
"BALL FOUR--!!"
Hit batters, one after another. Control wavering, pitch after pitch.
[Yes, Song Jin-wook draws a walk. Batting third, Dustin steps to the plate.]
[He just can't let go of his own pitch right now. You'd think a breather would do him good at this point...]
Right in the middle of it all, he tried to pound the strike zone with a fastball, and it sailed in fat and hittable.
CRACKAAANG---!!
[Noh In-seong, Song Jin-wook, and now THIS man — Dustin! Even with one man gone, this slugging lineup is still alive and kicking!]
[With that, all three of them — players who call Jamsil their home park — have now crossed the 20-homer mark... haha. Incredible.]
"OUUUUUU---!!"
The team's undisputed number-two power bat, and Dustin had him dead to rights.
Dustin had gone quiet for a stretch, then suddenly started hammering baseballs like a madman the moment August arrived.
Eight home runs in barely half a month — combined with what he'd already hit, that made two straight seasons clearing twenty.
"...Ah..."
The eyes of Oh Yeon-seok — who now seemed to conjure disaster out of thin air the instant he merely looked at the Doubles — had gone completely hollow.
"Yeon-seok. Yeon-seok! You okay? Yeon-seok!"
"...I'm coming out of the game."
He weakly handed the ball over to the pitching coach,
and the man who would normally have at least hurled a tantrum trudged off the mound with his shoulders slumped.
Fitting, everyone thought, as punishment for making an enemy of exactly one person.
After Gwangju's loss that day, the criticism flooding into the Doubles' front office was beyond imagination.
"One mistake from a player and you're just going to BURY the kid?! Is that it?!"
"Your own players make mistakes a hundred times over — so WHY?! Why is it only HIM you're all worked up about!"
That was if they were lucky and people merely argued over the phone.
Online, crowds of people came out in droves to sympathize with the sorrows of young Oh Yeon-seok.
"Ugh, this is driving me insane. We're not even the ones taking his side, and..."
"GM! We're saved! Turn on the news!"
"What?"
The fire consuming the Doubles' front office was single-handedly extinguished, and right on schedule, by one man.
"How is that fair? You expect me to spill my guts to the media and come out unscathed? THAT would be shameless."
In-seong's post-game interview.
Once again, Noh In-seong deployed his signature effect: redirecting every ounce of vitriol back onto himself.
Or rather, sharing the abuse generously with several other parties as well.
"I figured there was something I could give that kid. An apology, from one fellow sufferer in the same trade."
The art of artfully bending the truth to manufacture public opinion favorable to yourself.
"So anyway, I'd given him one of our team jackets as a present. Naturally, that meant he should throw out the first pitch."
That art has a name: narrative manipulation.
"I figured the kid would love it. The other guy's feelings? Since when does that matter?"
And while In-seong was hardly a master of such arts—
"Yep. The future of a young player matters a great deal. The organization that made a child cry and threatened him? Not so much."
At playing the victim, at least, he could claim to be the best in the world.
He balanced the scales of suffering — one young player against another young player.
Then simply stated, over and over, how hard he had tried to console a child's broken heart.
The remaining accountability? Oh, that belongs to YOUR organization, whose people were filming videos that day and threatened the boy. Not my problem. Get lost.
At worst, the reporter conducting the interview ought to point out the logical flaw in that argument —
but as it happened, the journalist running today's interview was In-seong's partner in crime.
Reporter Jeong was sitting across the café table from him, after all.
"Haha, well. You're not wrong there. But tomorrow, Gwangju has vowed to make Noh In-seong pay for his sins..."
"Haha, I will NEVER lose to an organization that stupid."
A piece of choreographed WWE theater, performed with a few UFC-legal maneuvers mixed in.
"We could lose? Ah, of course we could. Anyone can lose. That was the old me."
In-seong was strolling around detonating bombshell after bombshell.
"Tomorrow? Could we lose? Oh, absolutely. YOU could. Because tomorrow's starter for us is me."
Game two. Starter, confirmed.
"Whether it's you lot, or whatever those bear-faced goons are — I want you two tearing each other's hair out right up to the end of the season."
Daegu was all but locked into second place — on any normal season, they'd be running away with first — so this was only natural.
So what else could he do? Leave third and fourth to scrap it out joyfully, and let fifth and sixth bleed each other dry.
"And while you're at it, fight until you're absolutely drenched in blood with Daegu."
Clutching your hollow hopes, pounding each other until you collapse from exhaustion trying to win—
that's when I'll come along, smiling, and gather up all your discarded hides.
Lion pelt. Tiger pelt. Bear pelt.
I'll strip them all and hang them as decorations on my trophy.
"THAT'S what a human life is all about."
Why do you suppose the fisherman made a killing off the crane and the clam? Because he picked up the prize after they'd killed each other over it, that's why.
Thus stood Noh In-seong — a man who would win a championship by any freeloading means necessary.