The Fastest Way to Fight a Scam

Oh Yeon-seok had been staring blankly at today's interview playing on his monitor, and bit by bit, the focus drained out of his eyes.

"Uh..."

"Sure, he laid down the bunt—but then he goes and swings at it, and after the bunt, the pitcher just stands there with his mouth hanging open like, duuuuh~"

Had he really made that stupid a face? That son of a bitch, wearing the expression of a mindless zombie.

"The moment you pull off a boneheaded play like that, you're not a pro anymore. A prooo?"

And then that son of a bitch attempted the cruelest thing known to man. Fact violence.

"I'd genuinely love to know why a moron like that deserves to be called a professional, let alone selected for the national team?"

My ERA had already ballooned to the fours before your team 'normalized' it for me, didn't it? ...Let's meet again sometime...

--Beep.

Oh Yeon-seok switched off the TV, packed his bag, and headed for the team bus.

And as he drifted off to sleep that night, he found himself thinking: If only I could wake up tomorrow and be back to the day before I gave that interview...

It was the same bitter ache he'd felt once before, back when he'd given up the first-ever out-of-the-park home run at that stadium.

"Well, either way, one of them's crushed."

Noh In-seong set down the microphone and previewed his next victim.

"Is it the booze? Is it the gout? Let's talk about our little undocumented tenant who clearly needs his medication."

"Good God..."

"We've got a settlement coming, don't we, Seong-ju? Run away, and you have no idea what I'll say in my next interview. Handle it wisely."

Seeing you Tuesday, Grizzlies~ See you Tuesday, to kill you, Grizzlies~

Noh In-seong switched off the mic and strolled away singing. Off to enjoy his day off.

"Wow... I really did get bitten by a rabid dog, didn't I?"

Thus another victim joined the ranks of the psychologically crushed, and—

"Agh... what is even happening... overtime?!! Agh!!"

All of this chaos had erupted over a three-game weekend series, and the association staff who had to absorb the full aftershock were left in mourning.

While the old guard of the association insisted they would "try to block this from turning into a 'political' problem, no matter how the elders moved," and while they cried "We'll fix everything! The association's ass-saving circus is underway!" — burying the dead cow while painstakingly repairing the barn —

the internet, which had no Monday games and therefore no choice but to keep ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠churning out bait, rejoiced at the arrival of a truly juicy thread after a long drought.

From simple mockery like that, all the way to—

— and even a cult-like ironic worship.

Once something takes root in people's minds, there comes a point where it no longer matters whether it's a villain or a hero.

The brand called Noh In-seong was beginning to plant itself in the heads of countless baseball fans.

Meanwhile, another brand was watching the clock tick down toward its reckoning with the notorious neighbor next door.

The Seoul Grizzlies — the Bears — were the Doubles' next opponent, tenants under the same roof.

The fan communities were terrified too — the fact that this was the most-upvoted post of the day proved it.

The words in question hadn't even come this season, when he was a rookie. They came on introduction day, practically the moment he'd been drafted:

Understand, you alcoholic gout-ridden bastards? — delivered as a formal greeting.

Korean baseball had seen plenty of teams rack up incidents and scandals, but this franchise operated on a different level, so their notoriety was entirely self-inflicted.

The team's official nickname among fans was, after all, the Crime Bears. Enough said.

"In short, there is absolutely no chance that lunatic keeps his mouth shut in the next game?"

"Correct. Our image was already terrible, and we've been grinding through a brand-rehabilitation campaign for months..."

While the Grizzlies' PR team was busy pulling its hair out—

"Wooo, I love days off! Feels like the yellow card in my heart is fully recharged!"

Noh In-seong was at an amusement park, playing with his little sister.

"Siyeon, the Gyro Drop was really fun, wasn't it?"

"......Oppa. I sincerely hope you die in a baseball accident."

They were having fun. In the most literal sense of the word — with a double meaning attached.

What on earth could have displeased our dear Siyeon?

Her saintly older brother had only obliged when she'd said, Dearest brother, I humbly wish to visit the amusement park on your day off!

He'd even offered her the magical, money-flushed pass — a seven-ride express lane allowing a hearty ha-HA, out of my way, you peasant rabble! —

unlimited delicious food, purchased at her whim, and the chance to ride every single thrill attraction with stellar reviews,

He'd done everything, hadn't he? So what was the problem? Siyeon, don't tell me you're some kind of joyless misery-guts...

"You lunatic! What kind of maniac straps a third-grader onto four consecutive drop rides?!"

Siyeon ground her teeth in fury. Hey, I did that so you'd grow taller, didn't I? You said you wanted to be taller.

"That's how you dream of falling! It's not supposed to happen like this, in real life!"

In the end, he conceded and took her on the swaying sky swing she wanted and the Super Cowards' Carousel, but.

"......The first rides were so thrilling that... now I feel nothing...."

"There, there, my foolish child. That is what we call dopamine addiction."

Reality was cruel.

It took Siyeon queuing for another thirty minutes and riding the roller coaster once more before the parade for her to finally be satisfied.

For lunch, at least, he played it safe with a family restaurant — practically failure-proof.

Truly, nothing gets past a kid when food is involved. She was grinning from ear to ear.

A delicious meal, the parade. Churros and a Dippin' Dots-style ice cream in hand mid-parade, plus a character balloon to top it off.

For one day only, he could bask in being a god in his sister's eyes — but even this fantasyland had a closing time.

After the parade, as they ambled along — shall I buy you a souvenir before we head home? — Siyeon froze in front of one particular shop. What's this? An arcade?

"Oppa! This one! There's a pretty doll in there!"

...Good God. It was the grand tradition of amusement parks everywhere: the ball toss against targets that never, ever fall.

"Siyeon, that target board is called the Super-Divine Grape. It's a rigged target. It never goes down. That's the scam."

"Hngg, but I want the giant pre-stuffed Maltese pillow sitting right there."

Great. If I bring that home, Mom's going to clock me over the head with a ladle going, 'This wretched boy has added yet another item to the laundry pile!'

"Hey, big guy over there! What's with the act? The kid wants one and you can't even manage a single throw?"

"Yeah, oppa. Perfect timing, isn't it? He started it."

...Ha. Right, Siyeon. It's about time you started truly understanding what your oppa does for a living.

He pulled out his phone and opened the voice recorder app.

"Fine, mister. If I smash every one of these, that's on you, not me, right?"

"Haha, of course! Here you go — five throws for ten thousand won! Grab your balls straight from the basket!"

Noh In-seong handed his phone and wallet to Siyeon and rolled his shoulders. Then he picked up a ball and—

"By the way, what a load of hot air! How tough can this thing possibly—"

CRASH—!

"...how tough..."

No matter how sturdy the material claimed to be, it was, at the end of the day, wood. They really shouldn't have issued a rubber ball of this weight to a man like him.

"Already recorded. Thanks for your cooperation."

Noh In-seong threw a second ball, and the next most expensive target board exploded into splinters.

It took exactly one minute for all five of the most valuable targets to be obliterated, in descending order of price.

The next day, a post appeared on the amusement park's official SNS.

And then, thanks to the tireless efforts of the internet detective squad:

So it was confirmed: a professional athlete had run amok in someone else's place of business. But honestly, they'd brought it on themselves — there was nothing more to say.

The next day, back at the home stadium for the first time in a while, as Noh In-seong prepared for the opening game, one man approached him.

"In-seong, how do I break free of this hellish cycle? Tell me. Please."

Every single day before a game: a hundred grounders fielded while the infield coach screamed, 'The ball is your friend! Drop it and you're benched!'

Then, during individual training, the moment basic batting practice ended: another hundred catches, accompanied by 'Fielding drills? Sure! Right after you start catching like an actual human being!'

And even when the team lost for reasons that had nothing to do with his defense: 'THIS is professional defense? Unacceptable!' — while he shagged a hundred fly balls for someone else's hitting drill, then took two hundred of his own.

Thus it was that Song Jin-wook — blessed with a miraculously installed survival instinct, now capable of at least pushing back verbally — came asking for counsel.

"...Fuck's sake. Honestly, might be faster to just be born again..."

For a man who had started all sixteen games so far without letting a single ball get past him —

and who, even back in the era only he remembered, had never once exceeded twenty errors in an entire season — this was a very difficult counseling session indeed.