Rain From a Clear Sky
Noh In-seong had thoroughly crushed the reporters' spirits before boarding the bus.
Next came the weekend series, and then the opening days of May — the most explosive, utterly deranged derby of them all. Our squad was supposed to be gearing up for the Children's Day Derby against the Grizzlies, but...
"It's coming, it's coming. Game 1 probably won't even happen at this rate."
The man who'd been listening to the forecast playing on the bus's screen — Jo In-soo, not yet old enough to count as a grizzled veteran but old enough to feel it — clutched a knee joint worn down from years of catching abuse and promptly called off Game 1 for himself.
"Who knows, the whole Children's Day Derby might not even get played."
"Hey, we lost last year. We lost the year before. If it gets canceled this year, how do you think our fans are gonna feel?"
Jeong In-woo, the lazy bum, was grinning ear to ear at the prospect of another day off, while Sung Hyun-tak, ever devoted to fan service, was already fretting about losing again.
How would they feel? Probably 'thank god we didn't lose.' That's what I would've said — if I hadn't forced the words back down my throat and started dozing off.
"Tomorrow is special training. I know you all have complaints... but the front office and the ownership group are both saying we cannot afford to lose this one."
Right through the middle of it all, the manager dumped a bucket of cold water over everyone.
--Ughhh...
Nobody even bothered hiding their disappointment, but honestly, considering the conditions, it might beat sitting around doing nothing. Of course, that's assuming it's not my problem. Ugh. What a pain.
"Hey! Every single Children's Day we lose! That's exactly why we need one day of training on a day off like this!"
In-soo hyung, honestly, he's quite a bit older than me and still bursting with passion. Wait — or is it that I've already lived a full life once and come back, so I just don't have any passion left? This little punk... working veterans to death, working them to death...!!
...I probably shouldn't be muttering 'can't we just skip it, what a hassle' out loud.
"...Noh In-seong. For you specifically, we'll run it double."
"Excuse me, but I'm the starting pitcher on Children's Day itself, sir?"
If you want to lose so badly, go ahead and grind me into the dirt.
With the manager's curse of ah, that lazy piece of...!! ringing behind me, I hustled off the bus. It was late anyway — might as well impose on the bachelor dorms for the night.
The next day, everyone gathered not at Jamsil, but at the second-team training facility.
"Rain's coming, and we can't use the official stadium anyway, so I guess it's the minor league grounds..."
This indoor facility was fairly spacious, admittedly. I had no particular memories here — I'd barely ever used it. Just a brief stretch back after I got drafted, when I was trying to bulk up my frame, until someone noticed my growth plates were still open and shut it down.
But for the guy standing next to me... apparently this place brought back some deeply unpleasant feelings.
"Ahh, I absolutely HATE it here...!"
Mr. Song, enough with the shivering. You act like walking in here triggers your PTSD.
Song Jin-wook had once spent entire days out here taking fungo after fungo after fungo, suffering every hardship a minor leaguer could suffer — and remembering it all, he promptly developed acute stress poisoning. Tsk, poor bastard.
While everyone else focused on their weak points or their conditioning, I spotted the infielders rolling around in the dirt by themselves.
"Alright! One more round! Sung Hyun-tak! Tired already?"
"Almost done! Keep 'em coming, coach!"
"Kim Jun-soo! Why aren't you answering me!"
"I'm fine, sir! Perfectly fine!"
"Jin-wook... actually no, you just rest over there."
Good thing I'm a starter. I'd been deep in hitting analysis with In-soo hyung, breaking down the opposing lineup, when the batters got summoned. Ugh. This one I couldn't dodge.
"Today we're hitting against a pitching machine locked to one specific pitch. Only swing at the balls that come in blue — those are the ones landing in the strike zone."
"...And if we hit one that's not blue?"
"Then, as you all know, your punishment doubles for every miss."
Out of every twenty pitches, you had to put the bat on every blue one without letting a single one slip by. Pitch-recognition training — plus a conditioning drill for facing pitchers who threw one pitch type at an unusually high rate.
"The starter we're facing tomorrow — anyone who's scouted the guy knows he buries most of his two-seamers right in the strike zone!"
That's right. We share a home stadium, and this is a team with a tendency to run a sinker-heavy starter against us.
"So when a hard two-seamer comes, hunt it and swing hard. Lay off everything else!"
If you can't do it, keep doing it until you can. Yeah, that old chestnut.
The player who got absolutely massacred in this pitch-adaptation drill was, surprisingly, In-soo hyung.
"Seriously, fuck. How am I supposed to hit when they set the four-seamer and two-seamer at the same exact speed?"
"In-seong and Jin-wook hit all of theirs, though?"
"......"
Yeah, well, that's what happens when you swing like a ceiling fan all the time. Try watching the ball for once.
And what are you laughing at, huh, punk? This from a guy whose fungos turned into hits only 34% of the time.
Noh In-seong delivered a swift kick to Song Jin-wook's backside.
In-soo hyung declared that since he'd managed to get through a whole day of training without pulling any nonsense, we should all go eat meat together. Felt like a borderline insult delivered straight to my face, but it was dinnertime, and we were hungry — fair enough.
We all piled, wriggling and jostling, into a pork barbecue joint, and were well into the meat when—
"Oh, In-seong. You're on the news. First normal news story about you this whole month, isn't it?"
"What's that supposed to mean? I get perfectly normal coverage whenever they read out the box score after a game."
"Yeah, and then one interview drops and the entire fan boards explode."
Sung Hyun-tak, are you serious right now? I've been humoring you this whole time, calling you hyung this and hyung that, and THIS is the betrayal I get?
["A .570 batting average, a .610 on-base percentage, an OPS approaching 2.000. Home runs tied for second on the month..."]
["He has posted an ERA- of just 20, shattering a record once held by the legendary Tigers ace..."]
"...Damn. Those numbers really are legendary. If he did that for a whole month, then yeah — he's earned it."
"I cracked .400 this month too, but standing next to that, I can't even say anything."
Aww, look who's being modest NOW. You all knew full well I was this good.
["However, due to his various controversies and remarks that have enraged fans of opposing teams, he is expected to suffer in the fan voting..."]
["When he recently filed lawsuits, reporters collectively pushed back on social media, sparking major controversy..."]
["As a result, the final aggregate score is expected to be an unexpectedly close race..."]
Beep—
"Argh, you bastards."
"In-SEONG, I was watching that. Turn it back on."
"Might I remind you, Chun-sik, that I happen to know your wife's social media handle."
"Oh, I'm sorry."
So you're itching to go back to changing diapers, are you? Chun-sik?
With Game 1 washed out and postponed indefinitely into the distant future, Game 2 arrived under heavy cloud cover — but it was played. Naturally, since each team's home was the other's home too, and this was a derby with deep roots, everyone came hungry for Media Day.
Two teams whose relationship had been poisoned from the moment they first laid eyes on each other spared no words for one another.
"We've always held the advantage. I expect this year to be no different."
"Didn't we sweep you in the last series doing exactly that?"
Even the managers traded barbs with sharpened claws.
And naturally, the two men who despised each other to death also traded words.
"...WHAT? I haven't even said anything yet, you lunatic!"
"Get lost."
Ah, of course — with the foreign import, we'd substituted sign language. Talking to him was too much effort anyway.
["And the game is underway. Wow, the war of nerves between these two is absolutely electric."]
["Honestly, this rivalry stopped being a 'rivalry' a few series ago — it's pure bad blood at this point. The old days feel almost peaceful by comparison."]
The clouds had already been gathering before first pitch, and watching the first raindrops begin to fall, I could tell this was going to get ugly. It had been overcast during the pre-game festivities for the kids, sure — but nothing like this.
"This... might end up a called game today."
Aigoo, Hyun-tak hyung. Be careful what you wish into the world.
Bottom of the 1st. Whether it was the moisture in the ball or the soggy ground refusing to give any bounce, Jeong In-woo surrendered a run before he'd even settled in.
["...The ball's rolling and— it STOPPED! By the time Jo In-soo picks it up, the runner's already safe at second! There's no play at first!"]
["Beautifully executed bunt. Jo In-soo apparently watched it, expecting it to foul off at that angle — but the ball just didn't bounce."]
Leadoff walk. Bunt single from the next batter. Then Kim Seong-ju, swollen with whatever cocktail he'd been ingesting, ripped a double and brought them both home.
"Hahaha, see that, you arrogant rookie punk?"
"Saw it. How much stuff were you on, that your muscles are still working?"
If you're going to walk past me grimacing, don't bother talking, you dim-witted muscle-brain.
The Doubles had surrendered the lead the instant the game began.
We mounted our counterattack too, but the results always came up short.
"FUCK!"
["Dustin goes down swinging! Two runners left stranded!"]
["Noh In-seong had singled to lead things off — a shame for the Doubles."]
Dustin hurled his bat to the ground. Typical of the guy who'd been second-worst in yesterday's drill, right behind In-soo hyung. The only difference was that Dustin simply can't hit two-seamers, period — but bad is bad. Every time somebody got a hit, either nobody could bring them home, or the hit came with two outs already recorded.
Meanwhile, the rain kept thickening, and the game was suspended once in the 3rd inning.
"They're going to try to kill this game fast, aren't they?"
"Probably. If they get through the 5th and the rain really pours, it's over."
Coming from Jeong In-woo's blunt mouth, it meant even he had picked up on the vibe.
The rain let up briefly, and when play resumed — the Grizzlies started swinging like madmen.
Strike! Batter out!
["The swing and the pitch weren't even in the same zip code. Strikeout."]
["Jeong In-woo isn't really the type to rack up strikeouts like this, but the bottom of the 4th ends with two punchouts."]
"Feels like they're not even trying to hit."
"They need to wrap this up quickly, so that tracks. What do you think — should we stall for time too?"
Jeong In-woo, who'd been chatting with In-soo hyung, turned to the manager and asked with pitiful puppy-dog eyes.
"No. If WE pull that cheap stuff in a game full of children in the stands, it's over for us."
Shot down, obviously. As if that would ever fly.
"But they just ate three straight strikeouts?"
"Right, and they're the bottom of the order anyway. They'll come out like they never expected to hit in the first place."
The manager was right. It was a war of words either way — they'd survived the 4th, so all they needed now was to coast through our half of the inning on defense.
"Which means WE'RE the ones on a leash, giving up two runs. So we give it everything we've got."
Tsk. He's not wrong... we do need to pile up the runs this inning, one way or another.
["Ladies and gentlemen, this looks like it could be the Doubles' final at-bat — top of the 5th."]
["That's right. The rain is only getting heavier, so the Doubles need to score NOW."]
["Ideally they'd put up enough runs that the Grizzlies don't even bother batting in the bottom of the 5th — that's the smart play here."]
"Hey there, Mr. Han-sol. Throw me one of those fastballs, will you?"
"...You AGAIN?"
I was the leadoff hitter this inning. One home run wouldn't cut it — time to rattle them as much as possible.
The catcher was Jeong Han-sol, Mr. Iron Nerves himself, whose composure had proven immune to my provocations last time — so I didn't even bother.
Crack—!
["Noh In-seong's bunt—! It buries itself in the mud pit down the first-base line—! Noh In-seong is safe at first!"]
["Look at that — he reads the soft spot in the ground and rolls the bunt RIGHT at it! That is a play with real baseball IQ!"]
"Alright, I've done my part. Now it's your turn to deliver, Mr. Song."
But Mr. Song held out for seven pitches before going down. Maybe that's what happens when you're not actually a teacher, Song?
Next up was Chun-sik, and — huh?
"Pinch hitter: Pi Jeong-doo!"
Chun-sik got yanked, and Pi Jeong-doo stepped into the box. I couldn't figure out why he'd bother sending up Pi Jeong-doo of all people, so I held off on stealing and just watched.
Foul—!
["Pi Jeong-doo is already on pitch eleven!"]
["The rain is really coming down now! And the Grizzlies keep throwing everything into the strike zone!"]
["But the timing just won't sync up — nothing goes in play. Foul, foul, foul, again and again!"]
Pi Jeong-doo ground out thirteen pitches, and with a final ground ball, today's game was officially washed out. The manager's masterstroke... truly, he IS a manager. I should cut back on how often I sneak his snacks from now on.
It was, for one fleeting moment, a moment of genuine respect from Noh In-seong toward Jeong Im-taek.
"Ah, FUCK!"
"Serves you right, you dumb bastard."
And even in the middle of all that, I didn't forget to saunter past Kim Seong-ju — who'd just watched a flawless 2-for-2 day with an RBI go down the drain — and twist the knife.