The Driving Force of Life (Part 1)
The mood in Busan these days was bleak.
Not just the "Busan team" — the entire city of Busan itself.
The reason was simple. The City of Baseball had simply done what the City of Baseball does.
"Goddammit, in my entire life I've never once seen this miserable baseball team actually win it all."
"Why does cheering for this team keep passing down through generations? Why can't you escape your own blood?"
Trudging along once again to cheer, people getting ready to strap the goddamn plastic bags onto their heads.
People venting their pent-up rage, spewing every curse word in existence onto the message boards, yet turning their screens on anyway.
And yet they moved slowly toward the stadium once again, to watch the game.
Game 5 in Busan. Thousands upon thousands of Busan natives were flooding into the first game of it.
"Yeah! Championship! Almost there! Please! Let it end today!"
"Ah great, an away crowd. If we want the trophy ceremony at home, we've got to meet these bear cubs again."
"Eh, works out fine. Just thinking about teabagging right in front of their faces puts me in a good mood."
And on the other side, legions of Doubles fans were pouring in alongside them.
Those hungry to taste the feeling of a championship, and those praying with all their might that today, of all days, wouldn't be the end.
Everyone flooded into the colosseum called a baseball stadium, desperately praying for their own warriors to emerge victorious.
Unlike basketball, which was thriving, or soccer, which bounced up and down between divisions but at least delivered results—
"Hit the goddamn ball! Hit the ball, you bastards! All you do is eat your meals and swing and miss!"
"And if you can't hit, then at least pitch well! Why can you do neither?!"
This sport called baseball was having a catastrophic effect on Busan fans' cardiovascular health.
CRACK--!!
[He hit it! The shortstop fields it with his glove and fires to first--!! OUT! Runner left on second!]
[Haha, it went straight toward Noh In-seong. We'll see you again shortly in the top of the second. This is Busan!]
"Aigoo... aigoo, you dog bastards... haaahh."
"Hey! I told ya to run faster!!! Yer drinkin' again, ain't ya!"
Uncles who could no longer watch the games sober, borrowing the power of cheap liquor to cloud their minds.
"Hey! Wave it harder!"
"That's it, shake it at the camera!"
[Haha, this is... well, shall we call it a message carrying the heartfelt wishes of the Busan fans?]
[Well, when your record is this bad, the fans are bound to wear out sooner or later.]
PHWEEEEEP--!!
"Hey, you students over there! What do you think you're doing! Get those banners down!"
"Aw, dammit. We got caught! Run! Scatter!"
Poetic students expressing their fury through a colorful array of protest banners.
"Tch. When do we ever get to pull a stunt like those guys — wearing a jacket in this heat until they collapse putting on a whole show."
"Someone collapsed again? This isn't even a domed stadium, why would anyone wear that thing?"
"They just want to show off. You couldn't pull off wearing something like that, could you? Either of you."
There were even people envying the idiot Doubles fans who'd tried to teabag the crowd and instead wrecked their own health.
In that overall gloomy stadium, the moment the atmosphere shifted came without warning.
CRACKAAACK---!!
[That batted ball is! Yes! Out of Sajik Stadium! It's gone! Farewell, baseball! HOME RUN!]
[Jung Jin-gi! Yes! He carries his outstanding Sangmu performance right into the fall! Five home runs already in August alone!]
"Jung Jin-gi! Jung Jin-gi! Jung Jin-gi!"
Jung Jin-gi, the man who had been discharged from Sangmu, taken a short rest, and then returned to the big leagues, drew first blood today.
The fleet-footed Kim Taek-gyu stole second base on a breaking ball count,
and then spent his time on second shuffling in tiny steps, grinding away at the Doubles starter's nerves.
"But hey, you guys've got a guy who does that too, don't you."
He wanted to blow up, but he couldn't. His own team's shortstop was far, far worse than that.
The accumulated frustration showed itself in the ugliest possible way.
In the end, Kim Jung-mook, who had served a fat pitch right down the middle to a power hitter, hung his head.
Down the stretch we gooo---!! Fight! Fight! Fight on!
"...Tch. Same as ever."
If such a thing as "atmosphere" exists, this stadium was one of the ones most wildly governed by it.
Look at the gloom from before, gone without a trace — just watch the people now parading around with bags on their heads.
People one step away from having their throats slit, who would still feel wonderful if their team won today.
Is this what a baseball fan is? While Kim Jung-mook stood staring blankly, he walked back out to the mound.
KRAKA-BOOM--!!
WHAAAARGH---!!!
"Well. Those days happen too."
If he'd pulled that circus act where everyone could see it, he'd have thrown a punch — but this was the corridor, after all.
The gap in firepower remained, but their starter ultimately couldn't survive the fifth inning.
Four innings, four earned runs. Not a catastrophic blowup, but a self-destruction born of throwing far too many pitches.
He'd blown past 95 pitches, so manager Jung Im-taek made the call — there was nothing to be done — and pulled him.
"First time I've ever seen that guy. How come he pitches better than all the usual Busan hacks?"
Of the two players who'd come up from Sangmu, one was their starter. And now they were being stubbornly, infuriatingly stonewalled by So Dong-jin.
Strangely, you could keep hitting him, but the big hit never came, so the guy just would not come off the mound.
Four scoreless innings.
"...Then maybe you should hit a home run, huh."
Song ga-what's-his-face, whose life had taken off after landing himself a nice bride-to-be, was lecturing him — even though the guy didn't have a single hit.
"Shut it, I got a hit. Either bat in front of me or drive me in. Pick one."
He understood the anxiety — there was hardly any data on the guy — but he didn't exactly look unhittable.
Effectively a two-pitch pitcher — four-seam and curve — and yet the runs simply refused to come. It was a mystery.
They were clearly getting runners on, drawing walks, collecting hits.
But somehow, infuriatingly, the guy kept wriggling out of it, stacking up stranded runners inning after inning.
"I don't think this was ever supposed to be a sport where atmosphere mattered this much."
Every single one of their players felt pressed down, smothered.
All of them played the game with their heads lost in the mood of the crowd, and the first day ended 4-2. A loss.
"...Everyone gather at the dorms by midnight for a team meeting. Report to the banquet room."
With neither team able to shave the series number down, Jung Im-taek called everyone together.
"WHAT IN THE HELL WAS THAT DISGRACE OF A GAME?!"
CLANG-CRASH...!!
Whoa. Someone's fiery today. Somebody's in quite the mood.
Given that he was hurling chairs the very second the meeting started, apparently today's game had not pleased him.
"You're allowed to lose! But why in God's name was your head somewhere else entirely!"
Jung Im-taek began singling players out, one by one.
"First, the hitters! Is this a focus problem?! Why did you freeze up just because their pitcher was making his debut?!"
The acting captain of the hitting corps was currently Ji Hak-seong, so Ji Hak-seong bowed his head as their representative.
The vice-captain was Seong Hyun-tak and the captain was Cho In-soo, but both of them were currently in injury protection.
"No, sir!"
"Then what was it, huh?! Was it his first outing since Sangmu, so his old scouting report popped into your heads?!"
"""No, sir!!!"""
"If you put up runs the same way tomorrow, forget your day off — it's special practice for the lot of you."
"""Yes, sir! Understood!"""
"Pitchers! Jung-mook! You know why I pulled you?!"
"No, sir!"
"Because you were worrying about what they were doing!! Laugh at them, slice them up, make them look pathetic — wage the psychological war!!"
"Yes, sir! Understood!"
"Anyway, the days of us being the nice team are over. One lunatic on this roster saw to that. So live dirty."
--That said, all things considered, today didn't go all that badly. Get some proper rest.
It was quiet, but the fact that he was still being decent to his starter told Noh In-seong everything: I'm not getting chewed out today.
Last came the entire squad.
"I trust there won't be another pathetic display like today's, tomorrow?"
"""Yes, sir! You're right!"""
"...Good. I'll believe you, so pay me back with a win and then go rest with a smile. Dismissed!"
A moment later, the manager who'd been breathing fire had his expression soften, settling back into his usual face.
"Ah, and In-seong. Come to my office. I've got something to discuss."
"Aw, goddammit."
Now what? What had he done wrong this time? He honestly couldn't remember.
Composing excuses in his head, Noh In-seong slowly trailed after him into the manager's office.
"About tomorrow's start. You've just about filled out your innings quota, haven't you?"
"...Oh. So you didn't call me in here to tear me a new one. Thank God."
"Things like that you're supposed to think, not say out loud. And get your hands off my chocolate."
The front office, the manager — there was a happy misunderstanding going around.
Noh In-seong was casually strolling up to the 144-inning mark everyone had expected him to approach far more laboriously.
Currently at 141 innings. Noh In-seong had sat at 114 innings before the All-Star break.
Then he'd devoured 27 more innings across just three games, and now the end of the long journey was drawing near.
A rookie handling that many innings and that many plate appearances simultaneously, on top of playing full-time defense.
"It's your call to make, in the end... So what's it going to be?"
As the manager, he'd been thinking he probably ought to start applying the brakes soon.
"Mm, well, y'knooow how it is."
"...Argh, you little brat, honestly. Finish swallowing before you answer me!"
That is, right up until he watched the little shit crack open his chocolate and devour the whole thing.
Noh In-seong, having stuffed every last piece of chocolate into his mouth, swallowed it all down in one gulp and finally finished his sentence.
"What's to decide? If I win tomorrow in Busan, my next pitching start gets canceled. Simple."
"...And?"
"I'm still pitching against Gwangju and the Grizzlies, though."
--If we're going to bleed each other dry, we might as well all get properly involved, don't you think?
"They're all still moving around plenty spry — maybe they haven't bled out enough yet."
The man who wanted to sow chaos through the still-undecided fall baseball standings grinned, wide and shameless.
The second game of the five-game series — the day that might be their last, or might stretch on a little longer, no one could say.
"...God, I hate this."
"Of all people, it had to be that bastard."
Everyone let out a long, deep sigh as, markedly different from yesterday, one fan after another filed into the stadium.
It had finally sunk in that the man standing at that position was one who could flip the entire game on its head, all by himself.
A young man in a Busan uniform, his face carved with accumulated rage, turned to the friend beside him.
"...Fuck. If we'd had just that one guy, where would we be in the standings right now?"
"Hard to say. Knowing how they'd have shuffled him around constantly given our situation... probably 15 wins at least. As a pitcher alone."
Fair point. But it overlooked one thing.
"If he'd tried to work him that hard, the manager's face would've exploded, and he'd have been suspended internally before he ever took the mound."
The reason the guy was still loyal to his own team's manager was surely that the man used him well, right?
If he'd been on their team, their manager would've run him ragged chasing his own numbers until it was the manager's face that got shredded instead.
A painting of a rice cake — a feast that exists only in pictures. He still genuinely could not understand why they had never brought in that fresh, thriving young talent.
The guy they'd brought in instead had recorded one of the shortest collapse arcs in franchise history.
"...Ha. Fuck. They say even 2006 wasn't this much of a circus."
It would've been nice if the sky had rained, but it stretched on endlessly clear.
Hot, irritating — and the game time creeping closer and closer did nothing for his mood.
"Please, Lord. Just don't let it end today."
Or Buddha, or Allah, or whatever divine being happened to be on duty. Please.
It was the same prayer Busan's baseball fans always sent up around this time of year.
Whether the heavens picked up the signal or not — there was no way of knowing.
Wasn't there a saying — that a person's true ability only reveals itself in desperation?
"Huh. These guys came to grind me down today, didn't they?"
Every single Busan player's eyes seemed to flicker with something new.
Kim Taek-gyu, sensing he'd fail to reach base, tried to slyly lean his elbow into a pitch — and was denied.
The ball did plunk into him, but he shot Noh In-seong one glare and trotted straight down to first.
"...Huh? The bastard just glared at me? What's he so confident about?"
When Noh In-seong looked back toward first, the guy had dropped his eyes, but the whole vibe was different from usual.
For one thing, after making contact they ran like their lives depended on it.
[Ah, Jin Dong-ha is running! The batter made contact! Second base is already too late, and to first--!! OUT! Two away!]
[He almost never runs and hit, this player. What could have brought on this change of heart?]
They were voluntarily playing the kind of baseball — the desperate slides, the one extra step of effort — that most players have to be forced into.
"Huh. Now that I look, it's the outside additions playing the most desperate of all."
The original roster guys weren't playing that desperately, so what did that make this?
Jin Dong-ha and Kim Taek-gyu were recent Doubles products, and Jung Jin-gi, now at the plate, had just returned from Sangmu.
So Dong-jin, who'd pitched so well yesterday, was the same... Haha. Could it be — do these guys just get better the more outside blood a team transfuses?
Whether it was the price of Noh In-seong's momentary distraction, or simply the toll of all the overwork he'd piled up until now—
CRACKAAAAK---!!
[After an eternity! How many games has it been?! The scoreless streak! The scoreless streak is GONE!]
[Haha, fourth all-time, isn't it? Noh In-seong barely ever gives up home runs... this is a historic moment in its own right.]
Noh In-seong's streak, which had stood at 39 innings at the start of the game, was broken.
The moment it fell: two outs in the third inning. The end of a long, long 41⅔-inning scoreless run.
"Tch."
Giving up the home run was one thing. Winning the game was another matter entirely.
He casually set down the last remaining batter with a strikeout, and the game rolled on.