Old-School Baseball Was Always More My Specialty

The loss in Game 2 was, for Incheon, the kind of defeat they simply could not stomach.

Losing to a young ace-in-the-making was one thing — that, they could shrug off.

But watching their opponent weaponize the very unwritten rules they themselves had been exploiting for gain? Unforgivable.

Using the fear of injury, having their manager step out to rattle the opposition — all of it was their brand of baseball. And now their own baseball had turned around and bared its teeth at them, which was bad enough.

"The guys who benefited from playing scary baseball couldn't even twitch in front of someone who was actually scary."

"Turns out their madness was nothing but a cheap knockoff. Nothing to be afraid of, really."

All those teams they'd bullied before, and now — with barely any season left — they were being openly mocked? Retaking the top of the standings was a pipe dream now; they'd be scrambling in the basement instead.

And so, led by their manager Jeong Yong-jun, the pro-Incheon media machine lurched back into motion.

"A problem child who needs his manners beaten back into him."

"I refuse to believe garbage like that actually exists in Korean baseball."

"A player is still lying on the ground, and they're laughing their heads off? Is that what human empathy looks like to them?"

Even a guy who never bothered answering reporters still had to throw his punches. Incheon hammered the media with everything they had.

We're still fine! We're still the team that struck terror back in the day! — all of it, pure bluff, delivered at maximum volume.

But a madman, by nature, walks two steps ahead of the sane.

"Fine. Then I'll play you some genuine, old-school baseball. Exactly as it used to be."

"...What."

Nobody had expected Noh In-seong to respond head-on instead of just ignoring them.

"I, too, shall fulfill my sacred calling and give my absolute best when I take the mound as the starter."

Noh In-seong was, by nature, the kind of man who vowed to fulfill his calling at every opportunity.

It just so happened that his calling mostly consisted of teaching leg-spreaders how hard life could smack them down.

"No hitting, either. I'll pitch seriously and nothing more. That's how it was back then. Right?"

"Uh... yeah, I guess so?"

"See? This is me playing baseball in earnest. If anyone wants to make excuses after this, they can quit the sport entirely."

He had handed them everything on a silver platter. At this point, short of un-normalizing the game itself, they had no choice but to shut up and take it.

"...Something feels off about this, doesn't it? Is this actually right?"

--Isn't he scheming something? I'm nearly certain he is. This bastard doesn't do favors that only benefit us.

Alarm bells were shrieking inside Jeong Yong-jun's skull,

"Even if that's true, the way he's put it, the public will see it as Noh In-seong making a generous concession."

--We have no choice but to accept.

What the bench coach said was not wrong.

And so Jeong Yong-jun spent his days anxious half out of his mind, unable to predict how his opponent would show up.

On the morning of Game 3, every single player did a double take.

"What the— you absolute lunatic. Who even ARE you?"

"Rookie pitcher Noh In-seong, sir! It is an honor to meet you, sunbae-nim!"

Had Noh In-seong finally popped a pill that messed with his head, or had he spun a full 360 degrees? Or had Sung Hyun-tak actually taken a headshot to the skull yesterday? Unable to tell, he let out a strange, crooked laugh.

"Look, In-seong. You gave that interview yesterday, but you don't actually have to live it."

"Nonsense, sunbae-nim! I intend to conduct myself like a ballplayer of that era for the entire day!"

Yaahh! Fight to win, and if you lose, die! Hey-bba-ppa-ri-bba! — a display of rigidity on that level.

"...Isn't this going to backfire in a whole new way? If the Incheon guys find out, they'll just go back to their old tricks."

At Jo In-soo's worry-laden remark, it was Jeong Im-taek who reassured him instead.

"Don't worry. Not if it's the 'back in the day' I'm thinking of."

--Whatever you're worried about today, they're the ones who should be worrying about it.

Jeong Im-taek chuckled as he watched Noh In-seong-4, now fully converted into a Confucian robot.

'So we're getting the full "Back in MY day...!!" baseball experience.'

A surreal panorama of ego, staged by two pig-headed lunatics — Incheon and Noh In-seong — was waiting just around the corner.

"...So. What exactly have you come here for?"

"Yaahh! I've come to pay my respects! It is an honor, sir! Rookie pitcher Noh In-seong!"

'What the hell is this lunatic plotting?'

Jeong Yong-jun's face twisted. This was the guy who, until yesterday, had been talking about breaking his spine and burying him alive — and now he was showing up and bowing at a full ninety degrees?

"...Cut the crap. What are you cooking up?"

"No schemes, sir. Only dreams!"

--I have a dream. One day, I will become the greatest player in the world.

Yes, that was definitely a catchphrase he'd heard somewhere before.

From the original author's perspective, this was a 'take that garbage attitude somewhere else — why are you doing this to ME?' situation.

But Noh In-seong had never publicly endorsed violence, and his current state was pure hot-blooded baseball youth.

Baseball did originally come from America, so why not borrow the local flavor? Perfect fit. He stole it without a shred of shame.

"I wish you a wonderful game, sir!"

He bowed again and left — and the sheer eeriness of it made Jeong Yong-jun shudder head to toe.

"...Somebody tell the umpire we need a doping test on that kid after the game."

"The umpire won't think we're proposing it out of any ill will, sir."

--Because THAT is not behavior that kid is capable of.

The umpire had simply nodded: 'We tested recently, so immediately would be difficult — but we'll get to it as soon as possible.'

Noh In-seong, bowing politely to every single senior player in turn? You wouldn't see that even five seconds before the apocalypse.

"So, today's Game 3. Noh In-seong's plate appearance has genuinely been removed from the lineup. Isn't that a first?"

"It is, isn't it? Even on days he pitched, he always hit. This is truly something I've never seen."

Not once, even in high school baseball, had he ever been denied a trip to the plate.

Since ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it meant giving up the chance to drive in his own runs, he was throwing away the single greatest perk of two-way play —

"Which, flip it around, also makes this the perfect chance to sit every defensive liability not named 'first baseman.'"

"...Caleb. Maybe save that particular observation for when I'm not standing right here."

"Shut it, miracle glove who turns grounders into doubles with one toss."

With Song Jin-wook, who could actually hit, sliding into the DH slot, there was no downside.

Forget lineup heft — Noh In-seong was normally a pitcher who won comfortably as long as the offense spotted him three runs.

Performance varied with his condition, sure, but on a day when he planned to empty the tank entirely, a straight flush was on the table.

Meaning: unless something truly catastrophic happened, the manager could shove in his chips and go all-in with total confidence.

"Noh In-seong's stuff is electric today. That rising four-seamer is painting the corners."

"'They're not even thinking about swinging' — that's exactly what it looks like. Third strikeout of the day! They can't even extend the bat!"

"Thank you! Thank you, everyone! You — all of you — are the reason I play baseball!"

"...The more I think about it, the more certain I am. That bastard took something today he absolutely should not have."

Sung Hyun-tak grumbled that honestly, a lunatic doing lunatic things had been easier on the eyes. But either way, the team's mood was excellent. Where he would normally have delivered a kick to Song Jin-wook's backside after grounding into a double play, instead —

"I'm sure you'll get the hit next time, sunbae-nim."

And when Kim Jun-soo misplayed a ball he should have had — instead of demanding what in God's name was happening with his footwork —

"Well, these things happen sometimes, don't they."

For the position players, it was nothing short of unsettling. Noh In-seong when he was running the defense as the field general was genuinely terrifying.

First year in the league? Haha. Good joke. In the infield pecking order, rights and dignity belonged to the shortstop right after the catcher.

And even Jo In-soo, the catcher in question, had quietly handed over complete authority on the infield defense to Noh In-seong.

"...In-seong. This is scary. What exactly are you after?"

"Nothing at all, sunbae-nim. I simply wish for the team's victory."

Jo In-soo shook his head again. What is this lunatic playing at?

The unease kept growing.

"Ah, haha. Noh In-seong is bowing to the crowd. That's quite a rare sight, isn't it?"

"Rare might be an understatement... honestly, this is close to a first. I did broadcast his high school games, after all."

"That's right. Commentator Lee Chang-young covered high school baseball for years."

"When teams lined up to greet each other before and after games, he was the only player on the field who refused to bow."

"......."

"When a sunbae called him out — 'can't you even greet your seniors properly?' — he said the entire opposing team wasn't worth bowing to. And, what was it again... when the opposing manager chewed him out over it, he responded by flipping the man off. On live television."

It wasn't for nothing that the nickname Human Polonium had been born. Calling it a rebellious phase would have been far too kind — the boy was genuinely toxic.

And now that same guy was tipping his cap to the stands, smiling, playing the game like a boy scout.

People convinced it was a sign of the impending apocalypse didn't seem crazy at all.

"...I think he's genuinely planning to play nice today, guys."

"...That's not the problem. The problem is we're getting buried, 11-0."

Incheon had let their guard down — they've gone soft — while the runs kept flowing against them, and they couldn't buy a single hit.

The one hit they did manage was a gift, courtesy of Sung Hyun-tak playing first base exactly like Kim Jun-soo played defense — permanently shaded toward the hole.

Meanwhile, the opposition was teeing off on Incheon's pitchers with relish.

A day when Sung Hyun-tak, Song Jin-wook, Dustin, and Jo In-soo all detonated at once.

"Pi Jeong-doo with a multi-hit game today! He's raised his average from the low .200s into the mid-.200s!"

"When the bottom of the order keeps the line moving like this, honestly, it's a manager's dream. There's no rest for the opposing pitching staff."

Pi Jeong-doo went multi-hit. Kim Jun-soo reached base twice.

There was even an inning where Incheon had to burn three pitchers just to stop the bleeding.

And before anyone noticed, it was the top of the seventh. Down 11-0 in a game that had slipped away smoothly and completely, Incheon finally got their first real chance.

Their leadoff hitter singled with nobody out. The next batter was a player with a chronic foot injury.

The type who crowded the batter's box hunting extra bases — which meant a high probability of ground balls.

For an Incheon team desperate to avoid the double play while adding insurance runs, the best possible outcome was a successful steal and a runner on second.

A pinch-running specialist was sent in, and the moment to run presented itself — except:

The opposing pitcher had the fastest average velocity of any starter in the league.

And the catcher possessed above-league-average arm talent, with a 1.9-second pop time. That was the problem.

The runner was quick enough to make it a genuine race, at least.

"Out!"

"Ah! So close — but the shortstop's glove beats the tag! Runner is out!"

"Haha, the pitch was already right on the in-high corner. The catcher couldn't have asked for a cleaner transfer."

"Noh In-seong comes in hard and tight on the inside corner! The batter wears the pitch... oh my, is he not getting up?"

"Guhaaack...!!"

A pitiful groan, and a hit-by-pitch. A 161.2 km/h four-seamer had slammed into the man's back.

"You dirt-eating bastard, crowding MY strike zone?! Where the hell did you learn baseball!"

In a voice that everyone had heard somewhere before, Noh In-seong served up a steaming platter of old-school baseball.

"What's your problem?!"

"What's MY problem? What unwritten rules?! We're LOSING right now — this is hardly the time!"

His own team, bewildered, gathered around the mound —

"What did I do? The bastard crowded the plate! You think I'm some coward who can't even throw inside?!"

And unlike his earlier act, watching Noh In-seong begin to hum the tune of that bygone era, everyone finally understood.

'Ah. This lunatic. This was the plan all along.'

'Right. WE'RE the idiots. We should've known when he suddenly swallowed the happy pills and started acting like a saint.'

People never change. Everyone had forgotten that most obvious of propositions.

Noh In-seong had shown his true nature.

With the full, unfiltered flavor of tradition — a faithful reenactment of baseball from back in the day — only the Incheon dugout wore a funeral pall.

"So that... that absolute lunatic, that's why he..."

"No, wait, deliberately throwing at a batter is still against the rules, isn't it..."

Jeong Yong-jun shook his head.

"No, that won't work this time. He didn't throw at the head — he put it in the back as a warning. So the automatic ejection doesn't apply."

"...He got carried off the field after taking it in the back, though. Feels kind of pointless either way?"

"And one more thing. The unwritten rules of that era all begin from a single principle: never anger the pitcher."

"...Meaning what, exactly?"

"Meaning that little bastard can put one in your ribs any time his mood sours. That's what it means..."

Jeong Yong-jun sank into gloom. He'd actually let himself relax, thinking the kid would pitch decently today.

Who knew 'authentic old-school baseball' would turn out to mean old-school baseball, Major League-style.

"...No wonder he refused to step into the box. He's the type of hitter who crowds the inside corner himself."

Jeong Yong-jun ground his teeth at Noh In-seong's cunning.

The price of letting his guard down — telling himself that even with the score gap, the opponent would never stoop to dirty tactics — had been far too steep.

Now that even their one batter capable of extra-base hits had been carried off, additional runs were a distant fantasy.

The good ship Incheon was taking on water, going down by the bow.

"Watch yourselves from now on. This time it was the back. There won't be a next one."

"Uh, sorry to interrupt, but I'm the crew chief here... I was about to warn you that another hit batter means ejection. Was that a threat just now?"

"Oh, my sincerest apologies, Mr. Umpire, sir. It's just that your team seemed to be disrespecting ours, so I felt a warning was in order."

"...Is this right? He clearly drilled him on purpose!"

"But he avoided the head, didn't he? So we're fine. Headshots are an instant ejection, after all."

"...So he really WAS a lunatic. And here I thought he'd play it straight today."

It was old-school, old-guard baseball — the kind that made even the umpires break out in a cold sweat.

After the batter who'd received a firsthand lesson in 'kinetic energy is proportional to velocity' was substituted out, Incheon, unable to mount any meaningful response, fell 13-0. They had no choice but to swallow a shutout loss.

At the postgame interviews, Incheon's reporters fired off indignant protests one after another.

"What happened to the declaration of old-school courtesy and sportsmanship you made this morning?!"

"What do you mean? Did I break an unwritten rule today? They broke it. I fought them the old-fashioned way, didn't I?"

Noh In-seong was utterly unrepentant.

"I even relaxed the rule about scrambling skulls for anyone who crowds the strike zone, and you're still complaining?"

If he'd handled it the truly traditional way, a well-located fastball might have found its way to someone's head.

But ancient romance was far too violent for modern baseball, so he'd graciously dialed it down to the shoulder blades!

"I merely preserved a beautiful tradition — one even your grandparents had to throw through tears and clenched family bonds."

Back in the day, daring to step into that magical space where even your grandfather — or grandmother — could never hang a bat was a sin to be paid for.

He had simply played the romantic baseball of the true old-school era. That was all.

"It's the rule YOU wanted. So why on earth do you hate it now that you've got it?"

"......"

"And exactly when did we claim to have something we didn't? You asked, we delivered — and now the thanks we get is a stream of insults!"

Noh In-seong slammed his hand on the table. What a pack of ungrateful, uneducated fools!

"Unless you apologize to me, I will be executing a targeted outing against Incheon in every game from here on out."

Captain Jeong Yong-jun's Incheon Astro had been sailing smoothly.

But the ship of victory — the ship of leadership — had a hole torn clean through its hull, and was sinking fast.