Chapter 87

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Translator: Wjin

Chapter: 87

Chapter Title: Clash with Eric Wood

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"Hey Eric! Don't worry! Your fastball is the best, just didn't have any luck! So feel free to throw it!"

Shin Si-woo had memorized the note I'd written for him and kept mumbling it to himself even before the game started.

His pronunciation was a bit off, but you had to admire the effort.

No matter how rotten Eric Wood's personality was, if he had even a shred of conscience, he'd at least pretend to try after hearing that.

Of course, the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠best scenario would be Shin Si-woo nailing it from the start so he wouldn't even need to say it...

—Crack!

...Yeah, figures.

Life doesn't work out that easily.

Our Eric Wood was getting shelled right from the first inning, as usual.

If the ball came my way, I'd twist my body to snag it, but that featherweight stuff of his kept popping up over my head.

I'm not some freak magician or whatever—he has to give up a few...

"Damn it! Useless outfielders... What kind of defense is that?!"

There he goes again.

Eric Wood stomped around the mound irritably, blaming everyone else. Was he about to spike his glove if he gave up another big hit?

Poor Shin Si-woo.

All that effort to steady this guy's nerves...

—A curve breaking low and away.

Shin Si-woo flashed the sign, but Eric Wood shook his head immediately.

—A two-seamer diving into the body.

Another shake-off from Eric Wood.

I could see exactly why.

After giving up three straight hits, his ego wouldn't let him back down.

Sure enough, when Shin Si-woo set his mitt in the strike zone, the guy finally stepped on the rubber.

And then,

—Crack!!

A hollow laugh escaped me.

Stubborn to the end, then grooving one right over the heart of the plate. Textbook trash pitcher.

Just as I figured he'd spike his glove any second, Shin Si-woo hustled to the mound.

You'd expect him to lose it after a homer, but he flashed a great smile and recited his practiced line word for word.

"Hey Eric! Don't worry! Just didn't have any luck! So feel free to throw it!"

No pitcher could hate a catcher trying that hard for him.

Especially one who'd gone out of his way to practice the guy's language.

But... this jerk was beyond my norms.

"Shut up and get back to the plate. What the hell are you babbling? Speak properly."

Eric Wood sneered and waved him off.

What a sight.

Back in the big leagues, he barely got riled by trash talk, slurs, or provocations...

But the moment that nonsense spilled from his mouth,

The instant I saw Shin Si-woo smiling cluelessly, offering clumsy comfort in broken English,

I was off my spot, marching toward the mound.

Shin Si-woo's words flashed through my mind.

—We're a battery, right? Calming the pitcher is the catcher's job.

Battery my ass. Catcher's job my ass.

That thing in front of you isn't a pitcher or even human.

"Uh... Tae-hyun, I was just about to call you. He just told me to get lost since he gets it, right? I gotta head down, so talk to Eric for me."

"Where you going, Si-woo?"

"Huh...?"

I grabbed Shin Si-woo as he turned to leave.

Then I glared at Eric Wood and laid into him in his precious English.

"When the pitcher's throwing a tantrum, the catcher has to lose it right back to snap him out of it."

His face twisted as he got right in my grill.

"What'd you say? Tantrum?"

"Am I wrong? Got a problem? Getting lit up in the first? Shut your mouth and own it."

His mug crumpled further, eyes burning with menace.

"Thought English would hide it? Embarrassed now that you're busted? If you get shame, then shut up, grab the ball, and get outs. Not my collar, you moron."

"Hey! What's going on?!"

Sang-jin's voice from afar, teammates rushing in—reason flickered back.

Still boiling inside, though...

"Hoo..."

I sighed heavily in his face, dialing back the rage.

The guy in front of me deserved a beatdown, but damn it, he was a teammate for now.

Couldn't stage a team civil war.

Especially mid-game. One more step, and it was ejection plus suspension city.

As I turned away repeating that to myself, his hands flew at me.

"You... crazy bastard! Tae-hyun, you okay?!"

Couldn't dodge the blindside shove; I hit the dirt.

"Ha..."

No pain registered. Just disbelief and a bitter laugh.

From spiking gloves to shoving teammates now?

He looked briefly shocked at his own force, but that faded quick. No apology—just a smirk and more shooing.

...Next-level psycho.

Like I said before, this is life two-point-oh. Not turning saint.

Ejection and suspension crossed my mind, but they vanished just as fast.

Rationality had zero shot at control right now.

"You crossed the line, asshole."

I surged up, yanked his collar, and drove my right shoulder into his solar plexus like a spear.

"Guhk... you psycho..."

He rolled on the ground, clutching his chest, gasping and writhing. Nailed him good. But it wasn't enough.

"Who's the psycho? You started this crap."

Going for his collar again, someone yanked me back.

"Tae-hyun! Stop and calm down! I get you're pissed, but it's a game. This'll get you suspended!"

I know, Sang-jin hyung.

That's why I held back when he barked at Si-woo.

But this punk crossed it again.

Shaking off Sang-jin, Tae-seop hyung and Andy piled on.

"Tae-hyun! Chill! Don't let trash like him ruin your hands!"

"Hold it together! Hey, Jun! Get over here and grab him!"

188cm tall, built like a tank or not, a bunch of grown men pinning you leaves no options.

Pro ballplayers, no less.

No need for "calm down!" lectures. They'd let go eventually.

Anyway... head cooled a bit, thanks to them.

"Hey! You madman! Kick that Yankee out!"

"Yeah! Don't need him! Get a new merc!"

Furious fans, manager charging the mound, stone-faced ump.

I knew what was coming.

"You're gone!"

Yeah... figures.

Guess we lost this one.

Sorry, manager.

Couldn't be helped. I held back pretty good.

Lee Mi-yeon, as I knew her, loved Phoenix to death and never missed a broadcast unless she had to.

Even told her mom, "No way! I'm watching baseball!" when asked to run errands.

No joke—it was straight out of a Nemos scene.

Knowing that,

"Tae-hyun!"

I was shocked to see her sprinting at me as I left Sajik Stadium.

"Teacher? What about the game?"

"Who cares! You hurt anywhere? Huh? You okay?"

She patted me down, checking everywhere.

"I'm fine. Walking fine, see?"

"Still... that Yankee... no, Eric Wood. Totally insane? Shoving a teammate? Ridiculous!"

She was frowning hard, pissed, but somehow adorable. My lips kept twitching.

"He'll be off to Double-A after this stunt."

"Double-A? No! Cut him! Send him packing! We don't need a nutjob like that!"

She shrugged angrily, fists shaking.

Watching her washed away the last of my fury.

I pulled her into a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hug, patting her back.

"Really fine. Call it a vacation. Got time off for once—quit fuming and hit the department store with me."

"...Department store?"

Her fiery eyes rounded instantly.

"Moved in but been busy, so no furniture yet. Suck at picking it. Need your help."

Her lips twitched in resistance, then curved up.

I chuckled; she buried her face in my chest, nodding shyly.

"Yeah... let's go. But... just like this a sec."

Her arms around my waist tightened.

Yeah.

Vacation ain't bad.

While Cha Tae-hyun enjoyed his time off,

Manager Lee Eun-seok's forehead was wrinkling in real time.

Down four in the first, ace shortstop and starter both ejected—he hadn't quit.

Luckily, bullpen guy Lee Ro-woon had starter experience, good for five innings at least. With the league's top team batting average, four runs were catchable.

That optimism shattered fast.

"...One guy out like Tae-hyun, and the game's this screwed?"

Spot on.

Only changes: starter and shortstop.

Arguably, Ro-woon was pitching better than Eric Wood.

Starter over shortstop in importance? Obviously. Yet things worsened.

Simple reason.

'Tae-hyun would've had that...!'

Pitchers were too used to him.

Even those not inducing grounders started to, because Tae-hyun handled them.

Grounder to infield? He'd jump, dive, flip—whatever. Got it.

Ro-woon, hooked on that, was lost now.

—Crack!

Another boot, and Ro-woon bit his lip, muttering pitifully.

"Ibo... where's my Ibo! My soul partner... Tae-hyun! Where are you... come back!"

Not just him seeking Tae-hyun.

One game... not even an hour gone, and Phoenix fans were chanting his name.

"Hey! Bring back Tae-hyun! Why can't you get that?!"

Mister... that's a tough play normally...

"Hey! Tae-hyun gets it, kid! Right, kid?!"

"W-Well, yeah..."

"Eric Wood, take the subway and drop dead!"