Don't Stir It, Shake It (Reboot)
Noh In-seong's retaliatory pitch policy generated plenty of discussion. Naturally it did.
On paper, everything was an 'accident' — but the policy amounted to a pledge that anyone who looked the least bit suspicious would get dunked on the spot.
Noh In-seong had once again generously supplied debate fodder for every video platform on the internet, and now he stood facing a wall of moral condemnation.
The problem was that nobody could actually stop him.
Morality? At best, that was a social norm people politely asked you to respect. Reining in Noh In-seong would require the law — and the law couldn't bind him either.
Panelist A: "So not only can you not prove intent on the player's part in a court of law..."
Panelist B: "...there's simply no recourse at all? Baseball may carry injury risk as a sport, but isn't this going too far?"
Panelist A: "If you start worrying about that, how are you supposed to play the game at all? Should we take the field with sponge balls and sponge bats?"
However fiercely the panelists argued, the conclusion was always the same: it's infuriating, but there's nothing anyone can do about it.
A ballpark — a playing field — counts as a 'special workplace', the kind of place you find in no other profession.
Within the principle that whatever happens at a ballpark — every injury, every accident — must end inside the stadium walls, the place operates, to put it crudely, as a modern-day colosseum.
What can happen at a ballpark includes what happens when you throw a baseball at an opponent's body.
Even if a bench-clearing brawl breaks out — so long as no weapons are used, no tools that could genuinely threaten a life?
Of course that's not a problem. It's merely one of the many things that can happen at a baseball game!
And this very clause — 'a player cannot be held liable for dunking an opponent with a pitch' — was exactly why:
"So what regulation can you people possibly impose on me? A fine for my foul mouth?"
"...... Look, I'm begging you. Could you please, please, just try not to cause problems in interviews and such?"
That was why the league office employee was groveling at Noh In-seong's feet.
The conditions the league office delivered through its visiting representative weren't much of anything, really.
They had essentially submitted an official document that read, 'If you would kindly cause fewer incidents, our wasted energy would be considerably reduced.'
And unlike the arrogance of their previous point of contact's language, the way this one firmly lowered himself suited me just fine.
But there was one thing I needed to correct.
"For the record, I don't exactly cause trouble because I want to?"
"......"
From whose mouth is that coming, you little hellspawn — that was the look I got, and even he couldn't say it out loud.
Honestly, since I entered the pros, the cases where I threw the first punch have been the clear minority. What was I supposed to do about that? I only ran my mouth. I never predicted opponents would come at me this disgustingly physical.
"So, to be crystal clear — I will only retaliate."
Physically, I mean.
"...No, forget the retaliation — isn't it your mouth that's the root of basically every single incident..."
Close my mouth? I'm bored, so no thanks. I'll just pay the fine and be done with it.
The league office employee buried his face in his hands. Whatever, whatever. At least it's better than the entire player pool evaporating.
Dawn broke on Game Two.
A day game, on a weekend — every condition for drawing a crowd had converged, and the stadium was packed to the rafters.
Under everyone's gaze, the players worked through pre-game drills, suppressing the faint tension and excitement before first pitch.
"...Ah... what do I do... what am I supposed to do..."
Among them, one pitcher stood with his head buried.
The man who had tried to avoid the one guy he absolutely did not want to see today — and failed.
The Tigers' starting pitcher, Oh Yeon-seok.
"Why not just walk him outright?"
"...Should I?"
The starting catcher, rarely seen these days, offered up the answer. Incheon did exactly that last time, and it's not like we can't do the same. Avoiding a hitter who's locked in isn't against any rule — same as when Noh In-seong was on the mound.
"Right. What can I even do, against a guy who's just going to get walked anyway."
Sad as it was for Oh Yeon-seok and his catcher, having no other option was the twist that wasn't a twist.
Caster: "And the top of the first ends three-up, three-down for the Tigers. Bottom of the first now, and the leadoff hitter is Noh In-seong!"
Commentator: "He's actually led off quite often, surprisingly. When Sung Hyun-tak sat out, or early in the season back in March, he hit there regularly."
Commentator: "But after climbing to second in monthly home runs, he's mostly batted second or third... so why the change today, I wonder?"
"...Don't tell me — is he targeting me...?"
Noh In-seong, who had been batting cleanup, was appearing as the top-of-the-order hitter for the first time in a while.
A chill ran down Oh Yeon-seok's spine. Hadn't the Doubles moved today as if they already knew exactly what his team planned to do?
And that suspicion hardened into certainty the moment Noh In-seong stepped into the batter's box and looked straight at him.
There was a face, openly mocking him.
"...? Why the hell is that bastard staring at me? Just throw the damn ball."
Unbelievable. Was the guy mentally unhinged? I smacked him around a little last time — did that break something in him?
I was mid-routine, twirling the bat, when the umpire looked my way and spoke.
"Automatic intentional walk. Batter to first!"
"Excuse me? What kind of nonsense is that, umpire?"
I dragged my seven-innings-from-yesterday body out here today specifically to beat the hell out of that guy, and you're going to shut the batting center on me? Look at these spineless bastards. Like Swedes who've never heard of the custom of hospitality.
I trudged all the way to first. Fine. You treat your guest like this? Then I'm tearing the furniture up at your place.
Caster: "Wow — an automatic intentional walk on the very first batter of the very first inning. What's your read on this?"
Commentator: "Well, his recent numbers speak for themselves... and above all, he got walked in the last game too."
Caster and commentator traded commentary as Noh In-seong unbuckled his gear at first base.
Good ratings demanded a head-on collision, and all they met were two equally disappointed faces.
"Huh? He's going!"
"Stay right there! I'm going!"
Caster: "Noh In-seong attempts a steal from first — the catcher can't even get a throw off to second! Stolen base!"
Commentator: "He read the curveball timing perfectly and took off. Terrific instincts."
Under normal circumstances, this was a man far too busy at first base tormenting the pitcher, the nearby second baseman, or the first baseman standing right next to him.
And now Noh In-seong had taken off on the very first pitch.
'What? This bastard almost never runs...'
'If the data's right, there's supposed to be no steal as long as we don't mess up during his usual skipping-around-and-clowning routine...'
The battery had been rattled into overthinking already — and it took only three pitches for that emergency to escalate further.
Caster: "From third — SAFE at third! Noh In-seong steals third base! Safe!"
A desperate Oh Yeon-seok threw his absolute best four-seamer toward Sung Hyun-tak.
A four-seamer delivered with an unsettled mind, and it caught a little too much of the plate.
Crack!
Sung Hyun-tak didn't miss it, turning the pitch into a scorching ground ball toward short. But of all the places it could go, it ran straight at the shortstop — dead center, dead on — and he gobbled it up with ease.
"Ah, this one's an out..."
The runner, Sung Hyun-tak, was of course watching the ball as he ran.
Oh Yeon-seok was smiling. The opposing shortstop was pulling in his glove.
Convinced the out was coming at first, Sung Hyun-tak had sprinted hard, but he'd already written it off — when:
Caster: "Yes, the ball's fielded cleanly by the shortstop... a throw home! He's throwing home! Safe!"
Commentator: "No, hold on — Noh In-seong was obviously fast on that play! Why on earth would you not take the out!"
Fielder's choice. A brain-dead play had saved him.
Dodging the man all game long had been the original plan, but this just made things messy.
"Ah! That's absurd!"
It was a blunder serious enough to make Oh Yeon-seok throw a fit right there on the mound.
While Gwangju failed to keep pace with the sudden shift in circumstances, the Doubles were laughing.
"Well, well — a fielder's choice, was it?"
Noh In-seong, who had sauntered home without a sweat, pointed at Sung Hyun-tak standing on first and grinned.
"You just pocketed yourself a nice, fat RBI out of that, didn't you? Ever so grateful, my little second baseman."
Sung Hyun-tak's mouth opened and closed, opened and closed — apparently delighted by the fielder's-choice RBI.
Noh In-seong traded a high-five with empty air toward Sung Hyun-tak.
"How is your shortstop an idiot too? You're slapping your own pitcher across the face."
And with that, he headed back to the dugout, mocking the opposing battery for real this time.
Gwangju's catcher was a hitter whose bat ranked among the league's best — and a defender who very much did not.
He hit around .280 on average and had once topped .300 in a career year.
On the other side of the ball, outside a single career-best defensive season, his glove had always been a net negative for his team.
Nearly every defensive metric besides catch-and-throw was ugly, and his caught-stealing rate sat in the low twenties.
Stopping Noh In-seong from prancing his way around every last base? Not a chance in hell.
Caster: "Noh In-seong — he will not stop! As if to avenge the second intentional walk, another steal!"
Commentator: "He was already three-quarters of the way there by the time a throw to second was even possible! What could the battery have done!"
In his past life, too, he'd been no slouch on the basepaths — stolen plenty of bags before age caught up with him.
Stealing is half the eye for reading what the pitcher will throw, and half pure footspeed.
Now, back in this world and nowhere near his physical prime, his output was already worlds apart from his past life.
"...You planning to stop running? Isn't it exhausting?"
"If you had a golden opportunity to screw with the opposing pitcher and the opposing catcher all day long, would you be tired?"
Even when the second baseman signaled him to knock it off, he ignored it and stretched his lead even wider.
A frantic Oh Yeon-seok stepped off the rubber, shooting signals at Noh In-seong on second that said, 'Shrink that lead and get back to the bag!'
"? I'm not going back, punk. Go ahead and throw, see what happens."
But none of it landed on the damned fool doing a tap dance at second base.
Caster: "At this point they can't even walk Noh In-seong anymore! Two more stolen bases ties the single-game record!"
Commentator: "To protect the record of his team's legendary senior, they'll have to face Noh In-seong head-on!"
"Hey, In-seong. Those guys are giving you some real funny looks."
So that was the whole reason the third-base coach kept sidling over to whisper in my ear. Pathetic.
"And so what — are they going to throw brushback pitches at me? Or try to dodge a head-on battle with me?"
I had declared my retaliation policy in the post-game interview, of all places, barely a day ago. You forget it in twenty-four hours?
Then your brain is short on brain cells, and logically, I ought to help make some physical room in there.
Or is the thinking something like, 'I'm the pitcher, so it's fine — it's the position player who takes the hit'? Please. What kind of lunatic reasons like that?
"What if we just plunk that bastard?"
"...Are you insane?"
Unfortunately, Noh In-seong had forgotten one thing: the world was full of lunatics — himself included.
Oh Yeon-seok had piled up yet another collapse worthy of the career record books today. Eight runs over four and a third innings.
Setting aside the matter of walking Noh In-seong — with nobody out and a runner on third, expected runs crept toward 1.5.
A mere warning-track fly from Sung Hyun-tak scored a run,
and anything hit toward Song Jin-wook or Dustin produced extra bases.
Having been shelled game after game, Oh Yeon-seok had nothing left to lose.
And at Noh In-seong's next at-bat, the ball came in buried deep inside.
"Oof!"
Caster: "Noh In-seong's been hit by the pitch?! The catcher scrambles desperately to block it... wait — he's just trotting to first?"
Commentator: "Yes, curiously, today he heads down the line without incident... and well, technically nothing happening is the normal outcome, isn't it?"
And Noh In-seong had a rough idea why they'd hit him.
"They figured if I blew my top and got ejected, the record chase would sail clean out of reach — so they plunked me, didn't they..."
But try pulling that trick on a bad adult like me, and you'll find I can hold my temper just fine.
Noh In-seong stood on first base, grinning as he watched Oh Yeon-seok get pulled from the game.