124. The Moment the Feast Becomes a Funeral
What Noh In-seong had meant in that comment was an honest, unvarnished truth.
"100 wins? Nice if it happens, whatever if it doesn't."
The pennant race was already decided. Who was going to give them credit for winning a few more games?
If they failed to win the Korean Series, some team with a far lower winning percentage would stand above them and tea-bag the corpse. Our lead is in the double-digit minuses~ and you're stuck in 2nd~ while we sit pretty in 1st~
Rather than watch that spectacle, better to concede a few wins and laugh after taking the crown. In sports, the loser never gets to laugh — hadn't the manager, that man obsessed with optics, said the same thing?
'In the world of sports, second place is no different from dead last.'
Noh In-seong knew that all too painfully.
"...Except the runners-up of the fall baseball preliminaries are the worst of the worst of the worst. Fuck."
Granted, that came from the scar tissue of missing out on fifth place again and again.
The bus departing on the final journey had a rather festive atmosphere.
"Alright~ time to call it out now. Da-da-da-ra-tta, ttara-ra... kung-dak-dak, kung-dak-dak... Huh?"
"Yeah, it's Airline~"
The same old bastards in the back, playing their slap-forfeits card game.
"Agh, you cut the deck again, didn't you, In-seong..."
"If you're not sure, then you fold. Who told you to play a hand? Bring your hand and your neck over here, boys."
No! No! Agh, this guy got so big I can't even pin him down anymore...
NYAAAAAAAH—!!
Sung Hyun-tak, distinguished from last time only by his improved physique, let out yet another scream.
"Ugh, so loud. Where do those guys even store all that energy?"
"Being young is nice, isn't it? You're one step from the veteran ward yourself, and I'm already over the hill..."
You're the only old one. I'm still thirty-one."
"...You're a veteran too. In-su's barely hanging on at twenty-nine. He turns thirty soon."
"His birthday's right around the corner, isn't it? Congrats — one egg short of a full carton."
"AAAAGH, NO!"
Jo In-soo, Ji Hak-seong, and Jeon In-soo — the around-thirty combo — sprawled out in their seats and let their bodies go loose.
"You're sure? They're really burning both of their starters?"
"I heard it myself. Jeremy and Oh Yeon-seok, back to back..."
"They're going to throw Oh Yeon-seok out of the bullpen? They'd torch practically everything just to snatch third place once?"
"Realistically speaking... it's probably a bluff, right?"
"If you were Oh Yeon-seok, would you show your face as a starter again after getting beaten around for nearly thirty runs by us?"
"......"
The internal informant's intel, and the coaching staff scrambling to verify it. The last bus bound for Gwangju was abuzz.
When Noh In-seong finished the club's short in-house interview and stepped out for practice, he detected a certain tension lurking beneath the Doubles players' cheerful faces.
"What, everyone spooked because the media's acting like we HAVE to get 100 wins? Just let it go, you cowards."
And nothing converts tension into another emotion faster than rage or irritation.
"Agh, this is called focus, focus. How does he blow my groove at a time like this? Absolute lunatic."
"Just leave him alone. He does this every single day; even responding is exhausting. The man is insane."
"That's our NO-In-seong for you. Everyone's getting along and he dumps a bucket of ice water on the whole mood in one go. Hmm... viscosity."
Given the choice between becoming a eunuch or getting angry, everyone chose the latter.
Watching the trembling stop across the room, Noh In-seong's gaze settled on Song Jin-wook, sitting closest.
"HKAAK! I wasn't even saying anything!"
"Nope, I'm just pissed. Everyone, get over here. What? You bastards, for real!"
Declaring that he'd etch black-and-blue marks on their backsides as a 'trembling-removal fee,' Noh In-seong launched a game of tag. The screams of players subjected to cardio they never signed up for rang out one after another.
[Hello, viewers. At long last, the final journey has dawned.]
[We bring you Game 6 — the Doubles and Gwangju, Gwangju and the Doubles, the season finale.]
Most people who love baseball love it because their team is doing well.
Someone who, five minutes after first pitch, is thinking 'this dogshit sport should hurry up and die'? That means their own team just let an opposing batter cross home on a single hit or an error. Perfectly normal.
The temperature difference was obvious in the comments. The Doubles fans' comments were quite heartwarming.
And the ones hitting 'dislike' and spewing abuse were the Gwangju fans.
Their dark ages had been about as long as each other's — allies in a sense — which was the only reason it stayed at this level. If it had been a final showdown against the Grizzlies, every single comment would have required summoning someone's mother, and another's father.
It didn't take long for 'insults with decorum' to evolve, practically, into 'the world's finest lawsuit-dodging.'
TAAAHK—!!
[That ball is! HIGH! It is not coming back! Sailing far beyond Gwangju's stadium! Noh In-seong's solo home run!]
[They figured he'd steal anyway in his first at-bat, so they took the aggressive approach...]
[And he got burned for it, plain and simple. Yes — 1-0 straight off the first pitch. His fourth leadoff home run of the season!]
They were far too busy cursing the madman who had trampled their legendary records against them yet again.
A first-pitch leadoff home run — a record you get exactly one chance at per game.
And he already had four in a single season.
The camera lingered on Jeremy's dumbfounded face while Noh In-seong rounded the bases at little more than a stroll.
Whether it was a good thing or a bad thing for Noh In-seong, who could say — but the next time up, the umpire's finger pointed straight at first base. Then again. And again.
Third inning, fifth, seventh. Every single time, without fail, the moment Noh In-seong stepped in swinging his bat for dear life, the umpire would raise his right arm high: 'Disappear from this box. Come back whenever you please.'
"Intentional walk! Noh In-seong to first!"
"Oh, come ON! I'm standing right here and you're dodging me!?"
Whether they meant to sabotage his records or were genuinely too terrified, nobody could tell.
BOOOOOO—!!
[Ah... yes, we're hearing jeers from the stands once again. En masse, from the visitors' section...]
[Throwing objects onto the field is not permitted. We understand your anger, but still...]
The fans hated the tiger who was spraying concrete all over the history they should have been witnessing firsthand.
"Hey, you bastards! He's hitting .400! FOUR-HUNDRED! That's a record I might only get to see after I'm dead and buried!"
"Face him RIGHT NOW! Right now! If you're afraid to compete, why did you ever turn pro, you gutless cowards!"
Even some of the home fans were cursing him out now, but Noh In-seong strolled down to first with his head held high all the same.
Are these lunatics not going to run? Are they not even scared of his steals?
"Heh. Ridiculous."
With no runner ahead of him this time, Noh In-seong swiped second clean and dusted the dirt from his pants.
He tacked on two more stolen bases, and even when he flashed the signal that he might take another bag at any moment, the response was stone silence.
Then, with two outs, Song Jin-wook lofted a fly ball that hung painfully short of the wall — third out, side retired.
"...What the hell? Why no kick?"
Song Jin-wook had braced himself, clenching his glutes in anticipation of the blow.
"A ball hit like that is a solid hit, no matter what. What exactly do you take me for?"
Which only earned him a look of sheer disbelief from Noh In-seong — how does an idiot this complete even exist...
'...Agh. So he had a breaking ball for this situation too.'
Song Jin-wook got played again.
At the plate, a walk, an intentional walk, or a plunking only meant more baserunners — the numbers kept growing either way. But batting average had no workaround: a grounder becoming an infield hit, a ball leaving the yard — first he had to swing for any of it to happen.
The Doubles kept scoring in small, steady increments, but Gwangju, powered by Jeong Him-chan's three-run homer, answered point for point. 4-3.
And so Jeon In-soo, who had finally taken the mound after a long layoff and eaten his innings well, trudged off wiping sweat over and over.
"Hoo. That was rough today."
"Great work out there!"
The old veteran doesn't die; he simply disappears. Into the staff shower room behind the mound.
Meanwhile, Jeong Im-taek sent Jin Joo-hyuk up in the departed Jeon In-soo's place.
"...Fine. We're burning the whole bullpen today too."
The Doubles' relief corps began forming a crowded procession of arms throwing warm-up pitches.
Jeong Im-taek didn't normally care for this approach, but what choice was there?
"In-seong isn't coming off until he's filled every at-bat slot tomorrow anyway."
The one man who eats innings can't come out for whatever reason, so of course the bullpen load had to be minimized.
"In a game this tight, it comes down to how many arms you can afford to pour out."
Could Gwangju — with almost nothing left in the tank beyond their starters — really match them throw for throw?
It was a chicken race. Anyone who couldn't cover the pot should fold now, please and thank you.
"The Grizzlies might actually lose, you know. Don't you think?"
Fold if you can't match the stakes. Jeong Im-taek smiled sweetly toward the opposing dugout and sent the signal.
"...Damn it. They just keep coming."
Jeong Im-taek's read was, of course, dead on. Gwangju had landed in a position where they simply couldn't throw any more arms.
Things were so dire they'd declared a 1-and-1 starting rotation — those two were the most rested pitchers they had.
And on top of that, despite the one-run margin, the Doubles had effectively sealed off Gwangju's pinch-hitting arsenal.
Pinch hitters are, for the most part, resources you deploy based on who's pitching — even if they can't crack the starting lineup. Useless against a lefty but rakes against righties? Congratulations, you're a pinch hitter!
Most pinch-hitting decisions were exactly this kind of sniper deployment against the opposing arm.
But against a bullpen that resembled a department store of delivery angles — righties, lefties, sidearmers, and whatever on earth Joo Hak-soo even was — those tricks simply didn't work.
Jin Joo-hyuk took the mound just as Jeong Him-chan had gone and rekindled Gwangju's dying embers, and then...
"Swing! STRIKE THREE! Batter out!"
[Joo Ji-hoon is out after taking four pitches! He swung big on the final offering, but the changeup had him completely fooled.]
[And with the last batter retired, the bottom of the seventh comes to an end. On to the top of the eighth!]
A bucket of water dumped straight onto those embers, forcibly snuffing them out.
What galled them most of all was the possibility that they might not be able to send up a pinch hitter next inning either.
"We don't HAVE that many outfielders! Ah, damn it!"
A miraculous bit of firefighting, performed with water hauled in from who-knows-where.
The relievers who followed were, to a man, equally irritating characters.
Cho Hyo-jin and Kim Jin-hong — was it really normal for a single team to hoard national-team-caliber arms like this?
And on top of everything, the price of ducking Noh In-seong four straight times finally came due.
[The bill for avoiding Noh In-seong comes due right here! With two outs, Jo In-soo goes DEEP!]
[And the runners have been aboard the whole time — how could that possibly work out well for you! 6-3! The Doubles stretch their lead!]
"I HIT IT!!! That makes FIFTEEN homers for me!!!"
Jo In-soo — having finally filled his bonus clause and feeling marvelous about trading in his car — let out a roar of triumph.
Kim Jin-hong gave up a single but nailed down the save cleanly, and the first game ended just like that.
And naturally, the Grizzlies fans who'd come home victorious over a Daegu squad that had emptied its bench went on an absolute rampage. Chanting 'This is how we ride!' like delighted chimpanzees — OOH-OOH! THIRD! THIRD! THIRD! — and then.
"Hm? The next game? We got burned once before by coasting through a meaningless game, so of course we're going full strength."
"Fuck, no... NO!!!"
Hearing the Daegu manager's interview that evening, their uniforms flipped inside out all over again.
Daegu's position was that they had no choice in the matter.
"We once coasted out of a game, and what happened then?"
"Someone gave up an arm and pulled off a godly feat, didn't they?"
"Right. And if we coast through to the very last game now, how suspicious is that going to look?"
"......"
True to form for a team that had once ruined itself coasting, they had no option but to mind 'appearances' this time around too.
'Besides, wouldn't it be smarter to bleed off as much strength as possible before third place is decided?'
'The Doubles will be coming out desperate for 100 wins — what if we forge a dead-even, zero-gap tie at fifth place like this?'
'Those two will fight to the death for one more game between themselves, won't they?'
Besides, another game would be tacked on the very next day, so the rest period would mean nothing anyway.
It was the most perfect strategy available to the second-place team.
Operation name: 'From this moment — kill each other.'
And in the face of Daegu's sudden maneuver, exactly one man.
"Heh... Yes. This is exactly the situation I was praying for."
Noh In-seong lay back in the away lodging, a grin splitting his face from ear to ear.
Hoping tomorrow's condition would hold, he closed his eyes and invited sleep.