The Genius Hitter Who Conquered America - Chapter 103

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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 103
The Arizona Fall League Playoffs.
The format here differs slightly from the Major League postseason.
The AFL consists of six teams total.
They’re divided into East and West divisions and compete through the regular season.
First and second place teams from the regular season advance directly to the semifinals.
The Desert Dogs, Soo-ho’s team, finished first in the regular season and secured a direct berth to the semifinals.
The remaining third through sixth place teams compete in single-elimination matches, with the winners facing either the first or second place team.
The two teams that emerge victorious here will face each other in the championship.
Therefore, the Desert Dogs need only two victories to claim the championship.
The defining characteristic is that these are single-game eliminations.
Unlike the Major League’s best-of-five or best-of-seven formats, there’s no such luxury here.
There is no tomorrow.
Lose today, and you pack your bags to head home.
Because of this, even managers who ran experimental lineups throughout the regular season turn fierce and execute winning baseball when the playoffs arrive.
Victory is the only record that remains on their career.
And today.
In the Glendale Desert Dogs’ Locker Room before the semifinals.
The players’ heads tilted in confusion as they checked the starting lineup posted on the whiteboard.
There was no helping it.
The batting order was familiar, but the position column contained letters they couldn’t believe.
1. Oh Soo-ho (SS)
“Shortstop…?”
The players rubbed their eyes and looked again, but the letters remained unchanged.
“What? Is this a typo?”
“Why is he playing Shortstop instead of Center Fielder?”
The Locker Room filled with murmurs in an instant.
Didn’t he give up on Shortstop after that first day of fungo drills?
The most shocked were Mark and Casey, those closest to Soo-ho.
They approached him immediately and asked.
“Hey, didn’t you give up on Shortstop?”
“You’ve been playing Center Fielder all week. But suddenly Shortstop….”
Soo-ho had requested a position change to Shortstop from Manager Harry, but throughout the final stretch of the regular season games over the past week, he’d played exclusively as Center Fielder.
I’d never even been seen taking infield fungo drills during practice.
Yet on the most crucial playoff day, I suddenly found myself in the starting lineup at Shortstop.
It made no logical sense as a personnel decision.
It was like being thrown into the fire without time to adapt.
But even as I received my friends’ worried gazes, I was smiling inwardly.
‘Of course they wouldn’t understand.’
Their confusion was only natural.
Because I had hidden it so thoroughly.
I had always been the type to wake up earlier than anyone else and warm up.
A relentless practice fiend who stayed the latest after everyone fell asleep, grinding through individual training.
So when I remained at the Training Ground late into the night, my teammates simply assumed I was doing my usual batting practice.
They had no idea I was experiencing hell alongside Manager Harry during those hours.
The reason I kept it secret even from my friends was crystal clear.
‘If you’re going to deceive, you have to do it thoroughly.’
To deceive your enemy, first deceive your own side.
What if Mark or Casey had found out?
Even unconsciously, it might have shown.
If even that trivial hint reached the opposing team’s scout, the impact of my surprise card would be cut in half.
So I had kept my mouth shut for the sake of a perfect performance.
I flashed a grin at Mark and Casey, whose expressions were etched with concern.
“I’m fine. I’m confident.”
It was a short and concise answer, but the weight behind those words was anything but light.
At my words, Mark and Casey stood there dumbfounded for a moment, then slowly nodded.
Rather than ask further, different thoughts flashed through each of their minds.
Mark went first.
‘For him to say something like that… he’s serious.’
Soo-ho was originally a humble person.
Not the type to display baseless confidence like American players.
Always the kind to say he’d do his best, that he’d work hard.
For Soo-ho to openly declare “I’m confident”?
This meant his preparation was complete.
Absolutely perfect, at that.
‘I can have high expectations.’
A smile spread across Mark’s lips.
And Casey was harboring similar thoughts.
‘The infield has become solid.’
Casey’s position was Third Baseman,
Mark was First Baseman.
And I had become the Shortstop.
In other words, the three of us from the Low-A trio now controlled the vital infield line.
Of course, how brilliantly I would display my skills as a Shortstop remained uncertain.
‘But this much is certain.’
At the very least, I would be a hundred, a thousand times better than the offensive-minded players who had played Shortstop before, those who didn’t even care about defense.
‘It’s a shame we haven’t had a chance to practice our coordination… but.’
Casey shook his head. That wasn’t a problem.
‘Do we even need to practice it?’
We were the invincible Low-A trio, after all.
They were the kind of teammates who could communicate with just a glance.
So the mere fact that Soo-ho was standing at the Shortstop position filled Casey with a sense of reassurance.
The three of them bumped fists together.
It was time to take the field.
* * *
Today’s opponent for the Desert Dogs’ single-elimination match.
The Scottsdale Scorpions.
They were a team assembled from the top prospects of the Giants, Tigers, Phillies, Mets, and Astros.
It was a coalition of elite prospects from some of the most storied franchises in Major League Baseball.
Their momentum was piercing the heavens.
And for good reason—they had just demolished the second-place team in the Western Division 10-1 in yesterday’s Wild Card decisive match.
In short-series play, especially in tournaments like the Arizona Fall League, the most terrifying weapon isn’t raw talent.
It’s momentum.
Once a hot bat ignites, it doesn’t cool easily, and the morale of players who’ve tasted victory explodes alongside endorphins.
Most experts and oddsmakers were predicting a dominant victory for them in today’s game.
At least, they were—until the lineup was exchanged.
“What… what is this?”
In the Scottsdale Scorpions’ Locker Room.
The eyes of the players who received the lineup sheet went wide.
“Did the Desert Dogs write the lineup wrong?”
“And what’s this about a Shortstop?”
The Locker Room erupted in chaos in an instant.
It was shocking news precisely because they had been wary of Soo-ho.
After all, he was the All-Star Game MVP and the hottest hitter in the Arizona Fall League this season.
And a Center Fielder boasting an insane defensive range.
But that Center Fielder was playing Shortstop in the most crucial semifinal of the league?
“What is this? A deception tactic?”
“Did the original Shortstop suddenly get injured? Even so, why him of all people?”
They were engulfed in confusion.
The greatest terror that information could bring.
Baseball is a sport of meticulous preparation.
The batters had spent last night analyzing Soo-ho’s defensive positioning and how he handled batted balls, running simulations in their minds.
For example, something like this.
‘If a ball goes toward the Center Fielder, we can forget about advancing an extra base.’
These kinds of calculations were already complete.
But all that preparation had become worthless scraps of paper with a single sheet.
There was no data.
How Soo-ho caught batted balls at Shortstop, whether his throws were quick, what his footwork looked like.
They had to step into the Batter’s Box knowing nothing.
It was a helplessness akin to fighting with their eyes covered.
The players forced awkward laughter and chattered away, desperately trying to suppress their anxiety.
‘Even if he’s a decent defender… he won’t be as good as a Center Fielder.’
They prayed silently to themselves.
Was baseball a joke?
An Outfielder suddenly playing Shortstop, the very linchpin of defense?
The probability of tangled footwork leading to an error or a throwing mistake was 99%.
‘They’ve given up on this game, haven’t they?’
‘Right. Actually, that’s perfect. Just hit it to that side and it’s guaranteed to be a hit.’
They hypnotized themselves.
This was the Desert Dogs’ blunder.
The game was set up so they could only win.
Yet paradoxically, the very fact that they were trying to think this way
was proof that confidence had already vanished from their hearts.
Where they would normally have thought ‘just crush them!’, they now desperately hoped that Soo-ho’s deployment at Shortstop was a mistake.
Thus, complicating the opponent’s mind and making them focus on variables rather than actual play.
The secret weapon strategy that Harry and Soo-ho had prepared was already half-effective before the game even began.
* * *
[Ladies and gentlemen, good evening! Under Arizona’s scorching sun, a festival of promising young players unfolds, yet today awaits a contest colder than ever before!]
From the Broadcast Booth of Camelback Ranch Stadium, the Caster’s voice rang out across the Stadium with an upbeat signal melody.
[Arizona Fall League Semifinals! We bring you the showdown between the Glendale Desert Dogs and the Scottsdale Scorpions. The atmosphere of today’s game is quite unusual, isn’t it?]
[Indeed. Could it be the pressure of a single-elimination match? The tension emanating from both teams’ Dugouts seems to reach even the Stands. Especially after seeing the lineup card that just came in, I doubted my own eyes.]
[Haha. Same here. Is this perhaps a typo? I think we should ask the production staff to double-check.]
The Caster joked, but bewilderment lingered in his voice.
The Scoreboard began displaying the home team’s lineup one by one.
[Now, the starting lineup for the home team, the Glendale Desert Dogs!]
1. Oh Soo-ho SS
2. Casey Meyer 3B
3. Mark Williams 1B
4. Liam Henricks DH
5. David Garcia RF
6. James Smith LF
7. Tommy Lewis 2B
8. Ben Carter C
9. Alex Green CF
P. Dylan Brooks
The name written at the very top of the Scoreboard. And the letters “SS” clearly emblazoned beside it caused the Stands to stir.
Yet the Caster pressed on with the introduction.
[Facing them, the visiting team. The Scottsdale Scorpions!]
1. Ricky Bonds 2B
2. Tyrell Jackson CF
3. Carlos Mendoza RF
4. Jack Stone 1B
5. Ethan Hunt 3B
6. Ryan Scott SS
7. Sam Wells LF
8. Kevin Ro DH
9. Mike Rossi C
P. Max Loft.
[My goodness, it wasn’t a typo after all! It’s been officially confirmed. Oh Soo-ho, the Desert Dogs’ leadoff hitter and regular center fielder! Today he’s starting as the shortstop!]
[Wow… Manager Harry Miller, that’s quite bold. Or should I say reckless? On such a grand stage as the semifinals, he’s placed the team’s finest outfielder in the infield commander’s position at shortstop. We’ll have to see whether this turns out to be a masterstroke or a blunder.]
[What could the reason be?]
[The Scorpions have deployed their best roster as expected. Particularly, the destructive power of the cleanup trio connecting through Mendoza at third and Stone at fourth is the strongest in the league.]
[Certainly. Both players are boasting overwhelming strength, maintaining a .300 average with 4th and 5th place in home runs in the Arizona Fall League.]
[But here’s what we should pay attention to: the Scorpions’ batting lineup has many right-handed batters. Players skilled at pulling the ball. In other words, there will be many hard-hit balls going toward the Desert Dogs’ shortstop today.]
[Aha! Then Oh Soo-ho would undoubtedly be the key player of today’s game.]
[Exactly. No matter how good Oh Soo-ho’s defense is, that’s only when he’s playing center field, right? Shortstop won’t be easy.]
“Play ball!”
With the Referee’s commanding shout, the game began.
First pitch.
Pitcher Dylan began his windup. At the batter’s box stood Ricky Bonds, the Scorpions’ leadoff hitter, gripping the bat short and eyeing the pitcher.
His mind had already finished calculating.
‘I’ll pull it no matter what.’
The opposing shortstop was Soo-ho.
This was his first start at the position.
Then the answer was obvious.
All I had to do was send a hard-hit ball his way.
Even if he caught it, he’d panic and fumble, and with my speed, I could easily make it.
‘Once I get on base and shake things up, it’s over.’
Once I get out there and steal a base, the moment I wreak havoc on the infield, the Desert Dogs’ mental fortitude would crumble.
And that explosive momentum from yesterday’s 10-run outburst would be replicated.
Whoosh.
A 94-mile-per-hour fastball flew from Dylan’s hand.
A slightly inside mistake pitch down the middle.
Ricky Bonds’ eyes gleamed.
‘Here it is!’
Without hesitation, he swung the bat. Rotating his hips perfectly, he connected with the ball.
Crack!
The bat made perfect contact at its sweet spot.
The ball shot like a bullet toward the deep gap between the shortstop and third baseman.
‘Got it! A sure hit!’
That rookie Shortstop is too fast and too deep for him to handle.
Ricky Bonds took off toward First Base with unwavering confidence.
He’d reach the base before the First Baseman Mark Williams could even prepare to catch.
Just as he was about to lower his head and sprint forward.
‘…What?’
An odd blur caught the corner of his vision.
The space between Third Base and the Outfield—it should have been empty.
Yet someone was standing there.
‘What is this?’
When did he move there?
It was Soo-ho.
As if he’d known in advance exactly where the batter would hit, he was already at the landing point before the ball even bounced off the ground.
Then, with such effortless composure, he bent his waist slightly and scooped up the rolling ball.
Thwack.
A flawless catch.
Followed by a throw that flowed like water.
Snap!
The ball flew like a clothesline and struck precisely into First Baseman Mark’s glove.
This was long before Ricky Bonds’ feet could touch First Base.
“Out!”
The Referee’s call echoed across the Stadium.
Unable to slow his running speed, Ricky Bonds overran the base and continued sprinting before finally coming to a halt.
He turned around in a daze.
‘This can’t be real.’
It was a hit-worthy ball.
For a slow runner, perhaps, but a deep hit from someone swift-footed like himself should normally result in an infield hit or at worst a close play.
Yet he’d been called out with such ease?
‘What was that? Some kind of shift?’
The moment the ball made contact, he reflexively turned his head, only to see Soo-ho already holding the ball.
In other words, he’d moved before the impact.
Had a sign come from the Bench?
Or had Soo-ho simply guessed right on instinct?
Even the players couldn’t precisely determine the mechanism by which Soo-ho had caught that ball.
But.
Those watching from the highest vantage point, with a complete view of the field, saw it differently.
The Caster and Commentator in the Broadcast Booth fell silent for a moment, staring at their monitors.
[…What exactly did I just witness?]
[Ha, ha-ha. I’m watching it myself, yet I can hardly believe it. But one thing is certain. If that play wasn’t mere coincidence….]
[Then what?]
Then what?
[We might be witnessing the birth of a Major League-caliber Shortstop right before our eyes.]
By a Major League-caliber Shortstop, I mean
not merely someone with the talent to reach the Big League,
but a player capable of shifting the entire flow of a game through defense alone.
In other words,
a player who dominates the game with nothing but their defensive prowess.

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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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