The Genius Hitter Who Conquered America - Chapter 101

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 101
“Things will be different from now on.”
Soo-ho declared this with bold confidence.
Yet beneath the surface, I was calculating with cold precision.
Different? How much so?
To be honest, nothing would change dramatically right away.
It was impossible to bridge such a long gap in a short time, let alone with just a few swings.
Even if the god of baseball descended from the heavens, he couldn’t restore the muscle memory that had stiffened over two years in just ten minutes.
That would defy the laws of physics.
But it didn’t matter.
I wasn’t saying I’d become perfect right this instant.
I just needed to show them.
The possibility that I could function as a Shortstop.
The reason was clear.
It wasn’t simply for victory in this playoff run.
It was for something beyond—my ultimate future.
‘The Major League.’
The dream stage for every baseball player.
But that place was where monsters from around the world converged.
Claiming one of those 26 roster spots amid such competition was like plucking a star from the sky.
‘But ordinary players compete within limited positions—infielders or outfielders.’
What if there was a player who could handle both Shortstop and Center Fielder simultaneously?
These two positions demanded the greatest defensive burden and required the highest athletic ability.
In other words, being capable of both Shortstop and Center Fielder meant I could fill every position except Catcher and First Baseman.
Second Baseman, Third Baseman, Left Fielder, Right Fielder—those would come naturally.
A player like this was viewed as a treasure by any organization.
From a Manager’s perspective, having just one such player made roster management exponentially easier.
If the starting Shortstop got injured, if the Center Fielder grew fatigued, if pinch-hitting tactics left the infield short-handed.
One super-utility player could fill every gap.
‘I’ll become indispensable.’
My goal was to become a Major Leaguer.
To do that, I first had to make the 40-Man Roster.
And to do that, I had to lead this playoff run to a championship and make my mark.
And if everything aligned perfectly.
‘Then the organization won’t be able to ignore me.’
They’d want to give me more opportunities, even at the plate.
Making the organization desperate to develop me—that was my grand design.
‘So… even if my body breaks, I’ll show them.’
I clenched my jaw tight.
Before my eyes, Harry picked up the bat again.
“Let’s go!”
Crack!
Another sharp report echoed across the field.
The ball skittered across the dirt ground with furious speed.
‘I’ll catch it.’
I pushed off the earth and hurled myself forward.
Thud!
My uniform scraped against the rough dirt, but—
The ball cruelly grazed the tip of my glove and sailed past.
Another failure.
No different from the previous ten attempts.
Yet I didn’t waste a moment on disappointment, pushing myself up from the ground immediately.
“Ready!”
The moment I called out—
Crack!
This time, it came from the opposite direction.
Even with my center of gravity compromised, I stretched my arm out.
But I failed to catch this one too.
It struck my chest and bounced away.
Pain flooded through me, but I gritted my teeth, scooped up the ball, and threw it back.
And—
Crack!
Another miss.
Yet the eyes of the watching players were beginning to shift.
My success rate remained low.
But I never dodged a single ball that came my way.
More than that—
‘He’s chasing that?’
Normally, a Shortstop handles balls within a meter to either side of his position.
That’s the standard range.
But I was diving desperately after deep fly balls between short and right field that looked certain to be hits.
Or even line drives that skimmed past Second Base—balls that would ordinarily be credited as hits.
I was throwing myself at them like a madman.
“Huff, huff, huff.”
My breathing grew ragged, and my uniform became caked with dirt.
My stamina was visibly draining in real time.
Yet like a tumbler doll, I kept getting back up.
My eyes remained bright and alive.
‘The sensation is returning.’
This feeling brushing against my fingertips.
The trajectory of the batted ball was gradually becoming familiar to my eyes.
‘Just one more.’
I didn’t give up.
Because I knew this reckless challenge held the key to changing my future.
* * *
Harry’s eyes wavered.
Watching Soo-ho covered in dirt rolling across the ground, Harry swallowed hard without realizing it.
‘What is this….’
It wasn’t simply a matter of hard work.
That determination to block even balls destined to become hits with his own body was enough to stir the soul.
And those moments touched upon Harry’s distant memories.
In fact, Harry Miller was originally a seasoned defensive coach.
The Nashville Sounds, a Triple-A affiliate of the Milwaukee Brewers.
There, he had trained infield defense for over ten years.
His philosophy back then was unwavering.
‘Hitting brings spectators, but defense brings victories.’
No matter how many runs you score, if mistakes occur in clutch situations, the game flips.
So he pushed his players relentlessly.
He never saw a clean uniform, and he wouldn’t tolerate legs without bruises.
But his steadfast philosophy crumbled when baseball’s trends shifted dramatically.
‘The age of raw power.’
Pitchers’ fastballs began casually hitting 100 miles per hour.
Breaking balls became sharper, and spin rates began exceeding human reaction speed.
Then the hitters changed too.
Rather than stringing together hits through contact, power hitters aiming for one swing to clear the fence gained dominance.
As a result, the very mindset of the players transformed.
“Coach, do we really need to exhaust ourselves on defense?”
One day, a promising prospect on the team questioned him.
“Wouldn’t it be better to conserve energy and hit one more home run at the plate?”
It wasn’t wrong.
In reality, a shortstop who hit more home runs despite looser defense earned several times the salary of a defense-first shortstop.
That’s when it started.
Even shortstops began conserving themselves on defense.
Of course, talented two-way players still performed well.
But even they learned to do things ‘adequately.’
They abandoned difficult plays, handled only easy ones, and focused on managing their hitting statistics.
‘That’s why I got cut.’
It was ten years ago.
The organization criticized Harry’s methods as old school.
They called him a stubborn dinosaur who couldn’t keep up with the times.
In the end, he stepped away from professional baseball for a time.
He scraped by working as a Baseball Academy coach.
Then, with the mindset of one final challenge, he applied for the Arizona Fall League manager position.
But the passion he once possessed had long since vanished.
After all, he’d already tasted failure once.
‘That’s why this time, my goal was simply to manage the players adequately and produce results.’
Perhaps, if I was lucky enough, a Big League coaching position might open up.
If that happened, I figured I’d just coast along.
‘What in the world is this guy?’
Look at Soo-ho standing right in front of me.
He’d already won the All-Star Game MVP.
His hitting talent was already proven.
Usually, players like that protect their bodies.
An injury would be a loss, after all.
So they focus more on what they do best.
But Soo-ho is rolling through the dirt ground like there’s no tomorrow.
He’s deliberately sending 100% solid contact balls.
He’s reacting to every ball—even ones the Shortstop wouldn’t need to touch without catching flak.
‘A player extinct in modern baseball.’
He was nothing like a player who merely coasted through defense.
The calculator in Harry’s mind whirred back to life.
‘And honestly, this guy isn’t just a defensive player anyway.’
Soo-ho was a hitter.
Moreover, he possessed that clutch ability everyone desired.
But if he could also execute elite-level Shortstop defense?
‘How would his value be assessed?’
A defensive Shortstop who can’t hit?
Plenty of those around.
An offensive Shortstop who can’t defend?
That’s common too.
But a ‘hitting Shortstop with elite defense’.
And a multi-talented resource capable of Center Fielder defense as well?
‘Unique.’
So if Soo-ho showed just 70% of his current hitting performance as a Shortstop, his value would skyrocket.
He’d become the brightest star among any prospect in the Arizona Fall League.
Perhaps even outshining Victor Moretti, the prospect destined for the Big League.
‘Of course, right now he’s rough, his footwork is tangled, and his ball judgment is slow.’
But that potential hidden beneath the dust looked to Harry like a diamond in the rough.
‘I can shape that.’
Within Harry’s chest, the flame of a mentor—dormant for so long—ignited once more.
If I could develop Soo-ho, it wouldn’t merely be about winning the championship for the team.
I could prove that my honor, my philosophy, was not mistaken.
Harry set the bat down on the ground with a soft thud.
“That’s enough for today.”
Soo-ho lifted his head, breathing heavily.
“I can do more.”
His eyes gleamed with sincerity—no empty words—but Harry shook his head.
Pushing harder now would be pointless.
Just a waste of stamina.
‘Starting tomorrow.’
Harry made an internal vow.
All the defensive theory I possess, combined with the expertise of reading a batter’s psychology.
I intended to hammer it all into Soo-ho’s mind.
When Soo-ho showed such genuine commitment.
After all, as his mentor, I couldn’t simply stand idle.
Harry looked down at Soo-ho, now covered in dirt, and raised the corner of his mouth slightly.
“Come here for a moment.”
At Harry’s call, Soo-ho approached, catching his breath.
Harry gestured toward the ground with his chin and asked.
“How was it today?”
Soo-ho paused to steady his breathing, then lowered his head.
“Honestly… I’m embarrassed.”
“Embarrassed? About what?”
“I talked big but failed to show good results.”
“Heh.”
Harry let out a hollow laugh, exasperated.
Failed to show good results?
Of course, the surface-level outcome suggested that.
A success rate of barely twenty percent.
By the numbers alone, it was a failing grade.
But the process was different.
‘If I had conducted the fielding drills at the same intensity as the others?’
Soo-ho probably would have scooped up the balls while yawning.
No—he would have displayed overwhelmingly elegant defense compared to the Desert Dogs’ existing shortstops.
To be honest, I deliberately raised the difficulty today to make Soo-ho give up.
Just stick with center field instead.
That would be the stable choice for both the team and myself.
But through today’s training, my thinking flipped one hundred eighty degrees.
‘As a shortstop, his aptitude is… the most exceptional.’
Not just within the Desert Dogs.
Even if you combined all the players currently in the Minor League Baseball.
At least, that was the case by Harry’s standard—a man who believed that defense brought victory.
Reaction speed, instinct, and the courage to face the ball without flinching.
I’d confirmed the raw talent. Now all that remained was the refinement.
Harry folded his arms and asked again.
“Do you really want to play Shortstop? Even after what happened today? It’s only going to get harder from here.”
This was the United States.
The player’s will came first.
But most players would have clicked their tongues and fled.
They would have felt the sting of their own limitations.
Yet Soo-ho offered a clear smile.
It was a sign that I wouldn’t bend my convictions even slightly.
“Yes. I want to play.”
At my unhesitating answer, Harry nodded.
“Good. Starting tomorrow, I’ll coach you personally.”
At those words, my eyes widened.
The Manager would teach me directly.
I immediately bowed ninety degrees at the waist.
“Thank you so much!”
I knew something.
The ground balls I’d received today were of a different caliber.
From High School, and Low-A.
They were on an entirely different level from the mechanical ground balls I’d fielded during Arizona Fall League training.
So I understood what made Shortstop difficult, and how to survive in actual games.
‘I’ll receive direct coaching?’
In a week’s time, I would undoubtedly become a far better player than I could have imagined.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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