Pizzly

The Grizzlies, having lost the day before — and, as a bonus, watched Gwangju win that same day to pull even with them — found themselves tied for third place.

Maybe that was why they refused to die at the plate today, grinding out at-bats with stubborn persistence.

Apparently they'd taken extra hitting drills, convinced yesterday's loss was all about their bats, because their stances had visibly changed.

"SHIT!"

Caleb — the man dead serious about chasing the wins title — was recoiling at pitch after pitch, their swings suddenly precise and disciplined.

Ping-!

Sure, one man got roasted for mass-producing double plays instead of extra-base hits, with jokes flying that his juice must have worn off.

On the flip side, Jeong Han-sol and Sung Ji-chang had abandoned the long ball and joined the rifle squad, chipping away at runs one small hit at a time.

Meanwhile, the Doubles had developed one big problem on defense. Actually, several.

Ping-!

"SHIT! Hyun-tak! YOU FUCKING FATASS—!!"

It was bad enough that their starter was hypersensitive about defense — so sensitive people joked it was basically his erogenous zone.

"Sorry—!! No, I said I'm sorry!!"

"I'll KILL you!"

And instead of the old defense that would have kept that pitcher satisfied, he was paying the full price for the weight he'd gained, his range shriveled down to nothing.

"...No, damn it! Don't cheat toward first base! You're making my job harder!"

"In-seong! If you leave to cover second, my third base... Ah... got it! I'll work hard!"

So the shortstop Noh In-seong and the third baseman Kim Jun-soo spent the game rolling all over the infield trying to cover for everyone.

The third baseman filed a complaint, you say? One glance at a hand with all five fingers curled inward, and he worked like a dog after that.

Under normal circumstances, Noh In-seong's shortstop play was effortless — pure speed and anticipation gobbling up every ball in sight.

"Argh, goddamn it... This takes me back to the start of the season..."

But judging by how he spent today spitting out dirt-laced saliva after every dive, it was clear: second baseman-turned-starter Sung Hyun-tak was delivering defense that bordered on a natural disaster.

Still, the man had years of experience under his belt. He'd at least give you league-average work, right?

That was what Jung Im-taek had trusted him with — and his trust was being betrayed, casually, inning by inning.

"Damn it, he hit a home run yesterday, so I can't even say anything..."

Jung Im-taek took off his sunglasses, pressed a hand over his eyes, and hung his head.

"Hyung got fat, so now he's got power but his defense is dogshit. Guess you're stuck at first from now on, hyung?"

"...It's not that bad yet!"

"Not that bad, my ass. You gained enough weight to turn doubles into homers."

From the dugout, Noh In-seong needled Sung Hyun-tak relentlessly.

Back in the day, he'd been nothing but a slap hitter — sure — but he'd still made consistent contact and played solid defense.

Now that he'd bulked up, you'd have to call him a 'bad' defensive second baseman at best.

His range had never been anything to write home about anyway, so with the extra bulk... honestly, wouldn't it be easier if Ji-hak hyung just came in at second?

"Or should I just take second base myself?"

"Don't you dare. You go to second, and that guy's going to blow a gasket about mind games all of a sudden."

He was tempted by the shortstop spot, sure — but Kim Jun-soo, who had at least enough humanity left to speak sense, shut him down.

And so the second game ended in a Grizzlies loss, their infield dead silent after pouring every ounce of energy into defense.

Noh In-seong had made three clutch plays that day alone.

For his own part, In-seong didn't manage a single hit all day, burning through all four of his at-bats for nothing.

The fans said nothing, but the fact remained: the .400 wall had crumbled, by the slimmest of margins.

Manager Jung Im-taek began untangling the infield traffic jam.

"That settles it. Hyun-tak, from today you either play first base or ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠you sit on the bench as a pinch hitter."

"Tch... Fine. I'll take first."

From Sung Hyun-tak's perspective, defense had never been his selling point in the first place.

His true weapon had always been that precision bat, good for a .300 average every single season.

Noh In-seong stayed at shortstop, Kim Jun-soo slid over to second, and Ji Hak-seong — a far better hitter than Jun-soo — took third.

With three legitimate sluggers in the lineup anyway, there was ample justification for stationing Sung Hyun-tak at first.

"Worst case, he'll still commit way fewer errors than parking that Song guy out there, right?"

"......In-seong. At least say that one where other people can't hear it."

Look, a guy who can handle second base will always beat a bastard who can't even catch a throw at first.

So the Doubles retooled their infield.

It just wasn't a system that would survive today and tomorrow.

"By the way, Jun-soo hyung's going to have to cover shortstop today anyway, right? What's the plan for next year?"

"We buy a second baseman, or he loses the weight and we buy a first baseman, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠or Song's defense improves... ah, no, that one's off the table."

"Ugh. I'm only holding my tongue today because I'm the starting pitcher."

Noh In-seong took the mound for the final game of the season series against the Grizzlies.

"Mm. This desperate atmosphere. I love it."

To the Grizzlies, Noh In-seong was a target that had to be taken down.

They'd fought their way up to this position on their own wins — after this, there was no telling how many more times he'd even take the mound against them.

And his recent head-to-head numbers against them weren't exactly flattering.

As a starter, he'd been shut out completely; as a reliever, he pitched this bizarre style where he'd randomly assassinate exactly one batter at a time.

"Please, let him have an off day today..."

"Ah, that bastard, why is it always just me...!"

Some players fell into old habits, biting their nails down to the quick with anxiety. Others prayed.

"Ha... if we look like this next year too, what am I supposed to do."

The veteran catcher with an ugly team situation, heading into free agency next year, was already agonizing over where he'd land.

Everyone trembling with dread, the Grizzlies greeted their final encounter of the season with Noh In-seong.

"Swing! Strike! Batter out!"

He jammed two-seamers into the strike zone on pitches one and two, then dropped a curveball as bait — bat flew, strike three.

"Strike! Batter out!"

His pattern was simple: two pitches down around the low outside corner, where this opponent couldn't touch them, then a four-seamer right down main street.

They'd prayed for him to have a bad day. He looked to be peaking instead.

Even the fans seemed to have thrown in the towel, abandoning the game one bleak comment at a time.

The Grizzlies players did not.

"Fine, even if that bastard's in peak form, there's no way he can hold that velocity all game!"

"His stuff wasn't even this good when he shut us out! The day he weakens will come! Hold on!"

They gritted their teeth and tried to grind out foul balls.

They worked counts, laying off pitches, trying to force him to throw at least three or four more per at-bat.

Ping-!

And in the middle of all that, Sung Ji-chang stroked a base hit — the no-hitter was gone, and it was now the top of the fifth.

"Ooh, my shoulder's starting to ache a little too, actually. What to do?"

"Hm? The ball... it just got slower, didn't it?"

It was Sung Ji-chang who noticed the pitches in the strike zone were moving a touch differently than before.

"Yeah, that's right! Earlier he was touching 163, and I think his fastest was 167 km/h..."

"And now his fastball's dropped to the low 150s, so it's about time to go for the kill, right?"

Kim Seong-ju took Sung Ji-chang's report — the second batter of the inning to be retired — and expanded on it with impressive thoroughness.

Professionals have a gift for taking a vague, muddled conversation and extracting exactly what matters.

Admittedly, when it's about their own lives they tend to mishear or brush things off — but 'he's weakening, let's bury him now!' was the kind of intel that boosted their own numbers too.

Hearts pounding, everyone steeled themselves to take the fight to Noh In-seong, now at 86 pitches.

"Swing! Strike! Batter out!"

"Nice playing with you."

"...What."

After the fifth inning ended, Noh In-seong never came back out.

"Threw hard, racked up a nice pile of strikeouts... not bad, honestly? But that's all I've got for today."

"Oh, so In-seong showers first and heads home, huh?"

Far from returning to the mound, he was the first into the showers — then packed his bag and went straight home.

Six innings pitched, 4–0.

Could the Doubles protect that lead? Sure, one might ask that.

"...So what exactly were all those grueling at-bats even for?"

The opposing hitters wore hollow expressions, their target evaporating right in front of them.

"Ugh, chasing that fastball all game and now THIS..."

The relievers who came in threw far slower, with command so erratic the hitters couldn't even tell what they were aiming at — somehow more confusing, not less.

And then, as if avenging the man they'd pulled:

"Kim Seong-ju! Intentional walk!"

"Excuse me?!"

Every batter with extra-base power got shipped to first base on four wide ones.

Kim Seong-ju had no connection to stolen bases, and slow didn't begin to cover it.

After the next hitter grounded into a double play, he trudged back to the dugout as half of the twin killing, alone with his thoughts.

CRACK—!!

"It's not over! I said it's not over!"

Even now, there were still men insisting the game was far from decided — and not a single one of them gave up the chase.

Even the foul-tempered Sung Ji-chang went through the rare spectacle of genuinely hustling, and the deficit stood at three runs.

"So what does that mean? The conditions for a hold and a save are officially in place."

Jung Im-taek finally put his win-condition bullpen into gear — the crew that had been resting for far too long.

Bullpen ace Cho Hyo-jin slammed the door on the seventh and the eighth.

"Love that my finger doesn't hurt anymore!"

Then closer Kim Jin-hong climbed the mound in the ninth and notched the save. Ballgame.

4–1. The Grizzlies received a perfect answer sheet on how a championship-caliber team wins a game it needs to win.

"...Ah. Fourth place..."

Trailing their standing by one rung on the ladder, they trudged home, sunk in gloom.

"What is wrong with these bastards?"

Meanwhile, a freshly showered Noh In-seong had come home early and was scrolling through the community reactions.

He'd fully expected furious fans lashing out after a loss. What he got instead was beyond imagination.

Had they all turned into polar bears? Why were they groveling? Well, the glaciers had melted quite a bit lately.

The answer was waiting in the reply right below.

The third- and fourth-place teams, openly groveling at the first-place team with zero shame.

"Ugh. Figures they'd kiss up."

He could see right through every last one of them.