Ugh, Nichol-Eyesore (Part 2)

Second game of the away series against Gwangju.

Maybe it was because of the sheer mountain of bad blood that had piled up between them just last year.

Woooooo—!!!

As if savoring the torrent of jeers raining down on him, Noh In-seong stepped into the batter's box and returned the crowd's 'greeting' with one of his own.

"Looks like some kind of trophy-lifting ceremony... I won the championship! Something like that, I guess?"

"And the thing you guys never won? Yeah, I've got it right here in my hand... hahaha."

Go ahead and bark, all you want — I'm the one holding the trophy. Noh In-seong held both arms high overhead for a good long while, then finally picked up his bat and settled into the box.

"Hey there. Joo 'Concession'?"

"...Damn it. Isn't that sexual harassment?"

He needled the opposing catcher Joo Ji-hoon as he planted his bat upright in the dirt. Meanwhile, the pitcher on the mound, Oh Yeon-seok, was sweating through his uniform in rivulets — but Gwangju clearly had no intention of walking Noh In-seong with an intentional beanball today.

"The pitcher you've got your worst numbers against is Oh Yeon-seok, and they're still not walking you?"

Song Jin-wook had been spouting ignorant nonsense before the game, but Noh In-seong had something he believed in.

"Walk me? Please. The last team that tried walking me ended up bleeding the most out of anyone."

And fair enough — Gwangju had already taken far too many preventive shots in a single year. Overdosed, to the point where a needle was jammed into every last pore of their body.

Before the game, Gwangju's coaching staff had gathered for a meeting.

Unlike other teams — the kind that only come to their senses after dunking a hand into boiling water once — these men had already spent all of last year boiling that hand down into broth. They had absolutely no desire to look at the hand they'd cooked well-done a second time.

The team that allowed the most stolen bases to a single player in a single game in Korean baseball history.

Who knew the price of rendering someone else's hand into broth would leave such a bitter taste? They had already been the first in the league to experience the 'on-base-stolen-base exchange system' — seven steals in one game, and whatnot. Walking him again was simply not an option.

"If we keep handing him intentional free passes, we're going to shatter that record all over again ourselves, aren't we?"

"I'm afraid so."

A foul-tempered bastard who paid back everything he received a hundredfold, with no conscience to speak of. A bastard like that was not one to poke carelessly.

The Gwangju manager and pitching coach racked their brains. On top of everything else, there was also the relationship between their homegrown ace and their starting catcher — a relationship that had detonated spectacularly after that game.

"Ji-hoon's already been on thin ice with Yeon-seok since that whole business. If we give an intentional walk order and it gets out..."

"I know. He'll think we're playing favorites."

Haaah—!!

After one long sigh, the Gwangju manager finally bowed his head.

"Nothing for it then. Pitch to him. Even that bastard can't hit a home run every single time."

The seeds sown back in his rookie days had taken root, and grown up big and strong.

"Play ball!"

Noh In-seong glanced at the umpire's outstretched finger, then smiled and pivoted forward.

"Ah, now this is baseball."

It was, truly, the first fulfillment he'd felt as a hitter in a long, long time.

"Ball four!"

"Not walking him is all well and good, but a pitcher falling behind in the count is a problem, wouldn't you say?"

"When you're backed into a count like this, you have to attack the zone where you can actually get it in..."

"I trust you won't be saying that after a look at this blazing red hot-cold zone, sir."

28 walks in 70 plate appearances (27 of them intentional), 20 hits in 40 at-bats.

As with any .500 hitter, every one of the nine zones blazed the color of molten lava.

'Where the hell am I supposed to throw?!'

Oh Yeon-seok swallowed the tears streaming down the inside of his heart.

If baseball fans were having convulsions over this, the pitcher receiving the data firsthand was bound to faint.

The first pitch and the second both came out four-seamers drifting just off the outside corner. Two balls, zero command — Oh Yeon-seok blew air into his cupped hands.

They called it a strike zone, but to his eyes it looked like a game of Minesweeper. Step on the wrong square, and an earned run detonates on the spot.

'Screw it, the fastest way out is just to walk the bastard...'

Oh Yeon-seok wrestled his trembling fingers still and fired a high fastball toward the outside corner.

CRACK!!

"High and deep—!! Off the wall—!! It's GONE! HOME RUN! A leadoff homer for the Doubles in the top of the first! 1–0!"

"Terrifying. Walk him and he steals, pitch to him and he hits... what exactly are you supposed to do here?"

He had been punished for the audacious crime of not walking the devil currently burning Korean baseball to the ground.

"AH-CHOO!"

"What's wrong, Nicholas? Catching a cold?"

"N-no, sir. Just felt a little ticklish."

Naturally, the man who would pay the steepest price in today's game was someone else entirely — and it was pure luck for Oh Yeon-seok that he was still standing out in the field, blankly waiting his turn.

"...Damn it. That bastard's ruining my life too..."

He wouldn't realize it until his nose had stretched longer than Yeoui-bong itself.

Oh Yeon-seok took his frustrations out on every batter besides Noh In-seong with full-effort pitching, and came down off the mound.

Bottom of the fourth, Gwangju's turn at bat.

Nicholas had failed to regain his sanity and was half-checked-out.

'Where am I? Who am I?'

CRACK—!

The bat found the ball, and as the ball came naturally his way, he threw his body after it — but the thing standing there staring blankly only shot him a sidelong glare that said, 'That's YOUR zone, you idiot!'

The ball never touched his desperately outstretched glove. Instead, Nicholas could only curse the ball as it rolled helplessly right past him.

"Between short and third—!! It squeaks through the 5-6 hole! The left fielder... no wait, the center fielder makes the grab behind him!"

In all this chaos, the left fielder — closest to the ball and clearly not human — naturally let it trickle past, and the center fielder gathered it in with an oddly practiced motion before firing a desperate throw to second. But this was a runner sailing into second without even sliding. There was no way he was out.

While Gwangju's Jin Sung-joo, comfortably safe at second, waved a hand in the air in celebration, the Doubles could only shake their heads furiously at defense so alien from anything they normally played.

The fans, for their part, were already suffering from the 'fielding cancer' that just about never went into remission anymore.

The broadcasters pointed out this unusual situation too.

"The defense is... awfully loose compared to normal, don't you think!"

"Noh In-seong actually got angry once and said he hates running for balls like that, but he just picked it up with the glove itself."

'Aargh, stop tossing the ball ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠around and just punch out a strikeout, you deranged ball-chucking mutts.' — so went the cursing, but the truth was that Noh In-seong turned even the most brutal grounders into something resembling a catchable challenge.

Nicholas, by contrast, was already at three misplayed balls. He'd tried hard. It just hadn't been enough.

He had the arm, the split-second reads off the bat, even the innate defensive feel for hops — but covering that vast triangle between the left fielder, the third baseman, and the shortstop all by himself?

"Hooah... hooah...!!"

"What are you gawking at, punk? That much right there was my normal range back in the day."

What Noh In-seong pulled off bordered on acrobatics, possible only at the absolute peak of his form.

'Of course, there's only one Song Jin-wook, not two, and normally you only need to cover third OR left — one side, pick one...'

— What are you, some beauty queen? Why should I have to play 'above average' third base for your sake?

Petty, vindictive Noh In-seong had zero intention of filling in any more of a triangle that was already too big.

It was all well and good that Noh In-seong and Song Jin-wook had each deposited a solo homer on Oh Yeon-seok, but that was the entirety of the offense. The Doubles kept getting dragged along by the collar, unable to add another run.

"Jeong In-young keeps punching out a strikeout every time things get dicey... but Nicholas is having a rough one today."

"Yes, the defense isn't bad, per se... but he doesn't seem to be the shortstop 'today's' Doubles needs."

4–2. A gap close enough to touch with just a little more effort.

With defense this shaky in the middle of it all, even the runs they could have chased down were slipping out of reach. But if they reorganized the field now, they could eye a comeback against the opposing bullpen.

Manager Jung Im-taek, apparently deciding enough was enough, rewrote the names written above each position.

"Damn it all..."

In the end, Nicholas was exiled to second base and accepted his fate with docile resignation. Noh In-seong moved from third to shortstop, second baseman Kim Jun-soo slid over to third.

And the human holding the largest stake in today's circle of hell was...

"What are you looking at? Get your ass to designated hitter, now."

With a loving right butt-cheek kick from Noh In-seong, Song Jin-wook met his ending: stripped of his defensive position.

"AAAGH—!! Hey! All I did was make ONE error...!"

"ONE error?! I oughta kill you!"

CRASH-BANG...!! Hey! Somebody hold him back! Song Jin-wook, that bastard, seriously! 'One' error, my ass — he's dead meat!

Those who can't watch their mouths end their stories getting dogpiled by a great many people.

While Noh In-seong locked Song Jin-wook's head in a headlock and brought him to heel, the blessing of Indian Bob rained down — with carefully rationed force — across his back and various other regions.

In the middle of all this, Jeong In-young, boiling over with rage at the brink of a loss, glanced around nervously before landing a haymaker on Song Jin-wook, and Jung Im-taek, hyper-aware of everyone's eyes, hammered Song Jin-wook's skull with a full bottle of blood-pressure pills — but thankfully, Song Jin-wook was far too busy being pummeled to notice any of it.

One round of group violence, and a miracle occurred: every member of the team except one came out with dramatically improved teamwork.

"You know, that was pretty satisfying to hit. Should we make it a regular event?"

"...Then I'll just make sure to keep playing left field on a rotating basis..."

"On reflection, I think that would be a bad idea."

Noh In-seong was truly lightning-fast at brazenly walking back his own words.

Next inning, Gwangju's turn at the plate.

"...Tsk. Well. Nothing for it, I suppose."

With a face full of grievance, Nicholas stood at second base as Noh In-seong flashed him a beaming smile.

"What did I tell you? The defense captain of this hellish team has to shoulder enormous responsibility."

"That's only because YOU only ever covered 'average'...!! The guy who went to third is actually good over there!"

He grumbled, granted — but only briefly.

"Oh, right. You do know the left fielder used to be a third baseman, don't you?"

"......"

A heavy padlock snapped shut over his mouth, and he was suppressed on the spot.

If the horror show he'd put on in left field were to erupt again one meter to his left while he played shortstop? Honestly, it seemed healthier for his sanity not to be collecting that $200,000 at all.

Bottom of the seventh — Jeong In-young, who had gritted his teeth and held on to the very end, finally crossed the 100-pitch mark and was pulled from the game. He handed the ball to his pitching coach and walked down off the mound.

"Great work out there!"

"We'll hold the line!"

The man who had been treated as the baby of the staff just last year was now coming off the mound receiving bows from his juniors. Before ascending the hill, second-year man Yeom Dong-goo dipped his head toward the descending Jeong In-young.

"Thank you for your effort, sunbae."

"Mm."

With nothing but a curt nod, Jeong In-young headed for the dugout at a brisk clip.

"Good work. Take your time — finish your shower and your cooldown before you come back out."

Jung Im-taek, perhaps having sensed something in the young pitcher's mood, sent him off to shower without a word of complaint.

"Yes, sir."

Jeong In-young's mood was genuinely rotten.

Becoming the losing pitcher held no appeal, and while he'd eaten innings well enough, giving up four runs tasted even worse. Still — to avoid poisoning team chemistry, he'd swallowed it all in silence, ever mindful of the eyes around him.

BANG—!

"ARGH! Dammit!"

He chucked his glove into the back corner of the locker room, somewhere no one could see — that's how angry he truly was.

Shhhhaaaa—! Plop!

"Ugh, hell of a day. What a garbage day this was."

Of course, that anger didn't last long.

He showered, resolved to forget the whole miserable day since he'd at least worked hard — and the moment he pulled up his own stat sheet to do just that:

"...Whoa. So this is what it turns into."

The earned run average written there was a clean 0.00.

While Nicholas had run himself ragged covering the sprawling triangle of third, shortstop, and left field, every ball that caromed off the tip of his glove or slipped clean through had been officially ruled an error. And the runners who reached or advanced on those errors had all come around to score.

"Well, would you look at that. Zero earned runs for me."

Only now able to watch the game with a heart at peace, Jeong In-young stepped back out to the dugout — and the first scene he laid eyes on was pure magic, the kind that vaporizes a loss right out of the books.

CRACK!!

"That ball is! Off the wall and bouncing out! The atonement single! Batting sixth, Nicholas delivers!"

"They were being dragged 4–2 ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠heading into this inning, and already seven hits in the frame alone! It's 7–4!"

As if to say I'm truly sorry for all the trouble I caused you today, Nicholas had just issued Jeong In-young a full papal indulgence. Losing pitcher designation, whatever else — all of it ceased to exist.

Jeong In-young raised both arms skyward.

"No decision. You did not lose today. Hold your head high."

"...Hey, the single least helpful bastard on the team today does NOT get to say that to me!"

If you commit more errors than the number of home runs you give up, you'd better watch your mouth.

WHACK—!

"AAAGH! Right in the middle...!!"

Song Jin-wook, choosing that exact moment to open his trap and catching another one for it, aside —

the second game against Gwangju came ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to a close with a Doubles happy ending.