Became the Problem Child of MLB - Chapter 209



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Episode 209 Warning! (2)

‘It flies far.’

Matt Ryan tilted his head in the direction of the ball, his face aloof, and he thought, his eyes tracing the trail of the ball far away, now out of sight.

I would be lying if I said I didn’t regret it. I was pitching a shutout before Han Je-yi hit a home run. But I have to forget it. There was no other way than to forget it.

Home runs can happen at any time, and that’s something to always keep in mind, especially against Han Je-yi, who is a natural disaster in and of himself.

‘Come in quickly… … .’

So, the reason Matt Ryan’s head got hot wasn’t simply because of the home run itself. It was because of the rookie running around the bases with an expression that seemed to say, ‘Well, that was a pretty good pitch.’

“A heartless bastard.”

Matt Ryan muttered quietly. Besides, this team couldn’t have just ignored Hanjei. If they had, the Cubs wouldn’t have gotten the reputation of being a den of lunatics they have now.

“Fuck yeahhhh-!”

Yandy, who finished the top of the 7th with a triple play, shouted to the crowd. Matt Ryan looked at him with a tired expression as he waved both arms and encouraged cheers.

[Oh my goodness. Look at poor Ryan.]

└The soul has completely left the body.

└Hmm. It just looks like you don’t want to hang out with the Cubs players.

└That’s not bad either.

└Dodgers! I want to say thank you in advance. You gave up the World Series again this year, following last year. The real Angels are you guys, not the Angels 🙂

└Get out. Don’t expect anything this year.

└Hmm, that might be a bit difficult. How can you not be excited after watching a game like today?

└Shut up, Idiot.

└I said everything I wanted to say :X

└LOL. There really is no such thing as a fucking rascal.

Dodger fans gnashed their teeth at the tireless taunts of Cubs fans, but even they turned their criticism on the Cubs when they activated their winning formula.

└What on earth does our director do?

└This team has a bad coach. How can they give up their first and second starting games so easily?

└Fuck, say something!

└If our manager had been half as good as the Cubs manager, we would have been the runner-up last year, not the Cubs.

To some sports fans, managers can feel like a disaster that chokes the team’s blood. Even Sean Tillaherty, the manager, has been called “a damn good uniform” by some Cubs fans.

Director Sean Tillaherty knew this too, and had no intention of denying it.

“There is no better job in the world than being a major league manager.”

The head coach looked at the manager with a shaky expression. Dennis Washington, the closing pitcher, came up to the mound in the top of the ninth inning with only one out left. In the stands, excited Cubs fans were surfing the waves as they pleased.

“When the reporters ask me later in the interview room how I felt about the victory, I’ll say just one thing. It went exactly as I had planned before the game. Then they’ll ask me again. Did I have confidence that the Cubs would win today? The answer is YES! Is there a job that’s easier to show off than this?”

And the manager spoke confidently in the interview room after the game ended with the Cubs’ victory.

“I don’t listen to the talk of the rich, but I remember what they said before the season: ‘The Cubs’ second-place finish was a miracle built on the prayers of the fans.’ Now I want to ask them: Do you still think that way after watching this fantastic team?”

* * *

The only player on our team who survived Players Weekend was Wheaton, who was scheduled to be the starting pitcher for Game 3. He seemed embarrassed by the nickname “our son-in-law,” but he was definitely a gentleman compared to the other players.

Maybe that’s why, but that day, Wheaton incurred the wrath of his stubborn father-in-laws and mothers-in-law.

“Whitton! Give me back my daughter!”

“This marriage is invalid!”

“Honey, let’s break off the engagement!”

The crowd’s chanting could be heard all the way to the dugout, and the players, including me, had a hard time holding back laughter in front of Wheaton. Wheaton himself burst into laughter, as if he was at a loss.

“Since when has America allowed polygamy?”

The Crown Prince looked at the sight with envious eyes. Even if he was ‘that’ Crown Prince, it would have been awkward to act like usual with a ‘No Glancing’ sign posted on his back as big as a door.

Anyway, the Dodgers barely took Game 3, avenging their losses in Games 1 and 2.

Fans who always hoped for us to win might be a little disappointed, but a loss after a winning streak is like a traffic accident that is expected. In the real world, there is no baseball team that wins all season long. And it is true that it is rare to see such a thing even in games these days.

“Congratulations, Wheaton. You’re finally free from the fan favorites.”

“Oh, great. I’m finally getting to experience the trash talking that people get so worked up about.”

Wheaton responded to my words with an interested expression. Of course, Wheaton and I are joking. Even if it was right after losing a game, we shared a bond that was enough to have this conversation.

“The real trash talking hasn’t even started yet.”

“I know. If it was just this much, the opposing catchers wouldn’t have tried to separate your upper and lower body.”

“…Is that so?”

“Hmm. Let’s pretend I didn’t hear that.”

The club members passing by snickered at the conversation that sounded like a joke. Well, this is just a side story, and there is something else that is important.

It is significant that we reached the 100th win of the season with the victory in the last 2nd game, and that our next opponent is the Yankees, the champions of last season.

Additionally, there was one more change to the team. With the Players Weekend coming to an end, the expanded roster was implemented and a large number of minor leaguers joined the team.

“Where did you get that fresh scent? Oh my. It’s already September?”

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“I had a time like that too…….”

As Casey muttered with a hazy expression, Sezai, who was wiping the bat, asked abruptly.

“That was probably before the Iraq War, right?”

“…Why, why don’t you just call it World War II? Where are you going, stand there!”

“Are you saying I’m crazy?”

The minor leaguers watched with their mouths open as Casey and Sezai chased each other.

Most of them will enjoy the major league life for about 30 days and then go back to the minor leagues. But some of them will get the stone out of their mouth and settle down. Like Jude Miller and Roger Mendez last season.

Because of this, there was a strange tension among the middle-tier players. Not only backup players like Ed Talbot and Jude Miller, but even Garlick, who had no reason to worry about performance-wise, became quiet.

It’s all the same. Even though we’re wearing the same uniform, the most important thing is our own position, and if our own two feet aren’t solid, then worrying about others is a luxury.

What this means is that players who comment on other players’ home runs have a solid position within the team.

Exactly!

Taak-!

“Wow. A guy who hits 60 home runs is definitely different. Look at that. Whoever comes up, they look so relaxed.”

It was time for batting practice before the game. While I was swinging, a few older men gathered around the batting cage and started chatting.

He’s not some thug who steals money from a child. I ignored him and kept swinging the bat, and now he’s talking loudly instead of whispering.

“Casey, it’s not 60. It’s 64.”

“Oh, I understand. I wasn’t like that when I was young, but as I got older, I kept forgetting things.”

“Who is it? Who is talking about age?”

The more I looked, the more it became like a mountain range. When Victor saw this while passing by and shouted at me, the eyes of the minor leaguers who had nowhere to go turned to Victor and me next to him.

“Either you’re as young as a punk or as old as me. If you’re neither of those two, then keep your mouth shut!”

“YES, SIR!”

“Shut up!”

“…….”

Oh, please. You ignorant fellow. It’s a shame to the neighborhood, so keep quiet…

* * *

In 2003, a study by the University of Colorado found that the average lifespan of a major leaguer was 4.79 years, less than five years. In the most recent survey, that number had dropped to 3.71 years.

This means that players who fail to show outstanding performance in the league will be released, injured, or voluntarily take off their uniform within four years after their debut.

However, this can also be interpreted to mean that, except in special cases, there are no irreplaceable positions.

“Hey, you all came here to play? Did you come with Dad to tour the major leagues?”

“no!”

“Then don’t stand there and run! Run so that your legs can’t be seen!”

“yes!”

Victor Aroswell, who was gradually emerging as a playing coach, began to shout, and the field was finally soaked with the sweat of the players who were wearing Chicago Cubs uniforms instead of the tiresome minor league uniforms.

It would be great if he could be recognized for his skills and immediately become a starting player, but if not, it would be great to start as a backup like Jude Miller. The backup position for the best team in the league is clearly a valuable position in the entire league.

Or, to think more petty, you could have gotten a pension by just making it on the first-team roster for 43 days.

However, anyone who has come this far would never be satisfied with a pension of only 7.5 million won per year (based on 43 days of registration), and those who have just taken their first steps always have high expectations.

Taaah!

Taaaaaaaah-!

“Okay, that’s enough. Save the rest for actual combat!”

“I’ll have to ask the front desk if they have a banner ready. I’m going to throw a big party thanks to Jay soon.”

Wealth, fame, love from fans, and the admiring gazes of children. All the eyes of the minor leaguers dreaming of a rosy future seemed to be fixed on one place.

“…so fucking cool.”

“I’m going to get Jay’s autograph later, so don’t stop me.”

“Who told you to stop me? Isn’t that what you want me to stop you from doing?”

In a cheap hotel where the wind blew in through the cracks, a man who had been looking at a smartphone screen the size of a palm was standing right next to me. At that time, when I closed my eyes, I was Han Je-yi, and Han Je-yi was me.

How could you project your young self onto a legend like Victor Arouswell? Compared to him, Hanjei, who is a young player of similar age but currently the most valuable player in the league, was a suitable target.

Minor leaguers would watch Han Je-yi over his shoulder to see what brand of bat he used, what supplements he preferred, and even his pregame routine, and then copy them. Then, if they were lucky, they would get a chance to talk to Han Je-yi.

“Oh, that’s right. Let me know if you need any equipment.”

“huh?”

“You can just write it down on paper and give it to me. I’ll leave it with Clubby, so you can come and get it later.”

It was natural for some players who received sponsorship from manufacturers to share their equipment with players who did not. It was a common sight in locker rooms, especially during this period. So, Han Je-yi also showed kindness by recalling the help he received from his teammates in his early days of debut.

“Wow, really? Oh my gosh, thank you. I’ll never forget it.”

“…No. You can forget it.”

“Haha. That’s a joke. Thank you so much.”

Han Je-yi nodded his head sheepishly as he met eyes that were somehow overly sparkling.

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