The Genius Hitter Who Conquered America - Chapter 104

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

Chapter 104
Rewinding slightly to just before the game began, Soo-ho swallowed hard.
‘Phew.’
To be honest, I was nervous.
No matter how much I’d trained, I knew that actual competition was different.
It was commonplace for mistakes to slip through in real games, no matter how well practice went.
Especially given that this stage was the Playoffs—one loss and it was over.
And my recent experience as a Shortstop was lacking, which made it even worse.
So my heart racing faster than usual was an unavoidable physiological response.
Right then.
Crack!
A sharp, explosive sound erupted from the Batter’s Box.
It was the sound of the bat’s sweet spot connecting perfectly with the ball.
Fielders could instinctively sense the quality of a batted ball just from the sound.
Red alert lights flashed in my mind.
‘Oh no….’
This was bad.
It was hit cleanly.
I could tell just from the sound.
This was a hard-hit line drive piercing through the Infield.
The moment my mind began calculating ‘this will be hard to catch’.
‘Huh?’
Contrary to my thoughts, my body was already launching itself forward on its own.
Before my brain could even issue the command.
The hellish training with Manager Harry.
The muscles that had reacted to those invisible, terrifying batted balls that the Widow Maker had unleashed now moved reflexively to this speed of contact.
‘Slow?’
Though it was undoubtedly a bullet of a line drive, the trajectory appeared crystal clear to my eyes.
A hit that would normally have escaped down the deep hole between Third Base and Shortstop due to my delayed reaction.
But I was already positioned to cut off that lane.
Thump.
I scooped up the difficult grounder as easily as if it were a routine Shortstop play.
Pop!
And the throw that followed was clean.
I was originally a Pitcher.
My arm strength and throwing accuracy ranked among the best of the Infield players.
So it was a flawless defensive play, without a wasted motion.
A faint smile crossed my lips as I dusted off my glove and returned to my position.
The tension that had been gripping my heart moments before was melting away like snow.
‘At this rate… adapting won’t be a problem.’
No. With this sensation, I was certain that the performance I could display as a Shortstop in today’s game would exceed all imagination.
* * *
Second batter, Tyrell Jackson.
He was engulfed in confusion.
‘What was that? Coincidence?’
The quality of Rickey’s contact as the leadoff batter had been exceptional.
It was a bullet-like line drive that split the infield.
‘But that Polstar MVP….’
He was positioned at that exact spot as if he’d been waiting for it.
Did that make any logical sense?
‘There’s no explanation except for a shift.’
The sign must have come from the Bench.
Or perhaps he’d simply been fortunate enough to be standing in that spot.
Neither the Scorpions Bench nor even the Desert Dogs players had properly seen Soo-ho’s play just now.
Because baseball is a sport of sight lines.
The moment the ball leaves the Pitcher’s hand, every eye follows the ball.
And the moment it meets the batter’s bat, they follow the batted ball.
Confirming the fielder’s position comes ‘after’ recognizing that the ball is heading in that direction.
Because of that fraction-of-a-second delay, Soo-ho’s anticipatory reaction had been missed.
‘Well, it doesn’t matter anyway.’
Tyrell adjusted his grip on the bat.
That’s what Rickey, who’d reluctantly retreated, had said.
‘Today’s Starting Pitcher Dylan’s pitches are bland.’
His velocity is light, lacking bite—just turn on it when it comes.
‘So I just need to watch the ball and swing.’
It was the confidence brought by yesterday’s dominant victory.
This is why momentum matters in baseball.
Before the Pitcher even threw, he was already certain he could hit it.
Tyrell intended to swing aggressively on the first pitch.
Whoosh.
The ball came flying right on cue.
‘Just as I thought.’
A fastball pitched slightly high. A smile spread across Tyrell’s face.
Crack!
Another perfect contact.
Faster and deeper than Rickey’s earlier hit.
A clean gap shot between the Third Baseman and Shortstop—a left-field line double that anyone could see.
But this time was different.
The Scorpions Bench, having been caught once, and the Desert Dogs coaching staff.
And even the spectators in the Stands.
They didn’t chase the ball the moment they heard the crack of contact.
Their eyes fixed on Soo-ho at shortstop.
As if to confirm that lightning never struck twice.
But what unfolded before them defied belief.
“…!”
The sound of contact hadn’t even faded.
Soo-ho’s body was already airborne.
In that fraction of a second before even the Caster could cry out.
Thwack!
An impossible catch echoed across the field—a ball that should have been handled by Third Baseman Casey.
But it was a vicious line drive, and Casey, whose talents lay more in hitting than defense, had been slow on his first step.
The ball sailed past Casey’s glove.
The moment everyone thought it was through—
Soo-ho’s glove came flying from behind, snatching the ball out of thin air as if by magic.
‘What… what was that?’
Everyone on the ground stood stunned.
Even his own teammates Mark and Casey’s jaws nearly hit the dirt.
Was that even humanly possible?
He moved as if he’d seen the future—as if he knew exactly where the ball would go.
But the spectacle wasn’t over.
Thud-thump.
Soo-ho rolled roughly across the ground.
Normally, it would take time to get up, potentially allowing an infield hit.
But Soo-ho used the rebound from his hands to spring back up like a coiled spring.
Core strength. And the powerful arm of a former pitcher.
The throw left Soo-ho’s fingertips and rocketed toward First Base.
It was a fastball so hard that First Baseman Mark’s mitt cracked audibly under the impact.
“Out!”
The Referee’s fist shot up.
Tyrell stood frozen, unable to even reach First Base, his expression deflated.
The Stands fell silent as if doused with cold water, then erupted in explosive cheers.
“Waaaaaaah!”
“That’s MVP material!”
“His defense is insane!”
The Commentator in the Broadcast Booth trembled as he gripped the microphone.
[Incredible! Oh Soo-ho! He snatched that ball right out of the air!]
[His reaction time… I’m speechless. His body was already in motion the instant the batter made contact. That’s nothing short of animal instinct!]
Everyone stared up at the Scoreboard in awe as the replay began.
There, Soo-ho’s image repeated endlessly—like a leopard snatching prey, he erased the line drive from existence.
Soo-ho, who had always shown defensive prowess even back in his amateur and KBO Minor League days, had truly seized the moment today.
* * *
Behind the Stands, in the area where scouts gathered.
The sound of tearing paper echoed through the space.
Crunch.
A man wearing a navy cap emblazoned with the white NY logo—the symbol of a storied franchise.
The New York Yankees Senior Scout crumpled the report in his hand with crushing force.
His face flushed crimson with frustration, but the reason was simple.
Did he hate Soo-ho? No. It was the opposite.
‘Damn it… his potential just exploded completely.’
Players develop in real time.
Especially among the elite prospects gathered here in the Arizona Fall League, it wasn’t uncommon for their abilities to skyrocket in dramatic leaps.
But the growth Soo-ho was displaying now far exceeded any ordinary category.
Soo-ho had already been drawing attention as a five-tool player.
Yet that evaluation was only in the context of his position as a Center Fielder.
But what was the performance Soo-ho was showing now?
At the Shortstop position—the one with the greatest defensive burden and the highest demand for baseball intelligence.
He was putting on a defensive showcase against the league’s most talented players.
A desperate word surfaced in the scout’s mind.
‘NFS—Not For Sale.’
Untouchable.
The Dodgers would never sell Soo-ho, not even if they rose from the dead.
This was a massive obstacle for the Yankees.
And for good reason—they had been orchestrating a covert and ambitious plan.
Soo-ho wasn’t yet included on the Dodgers’ 40-Man Roster.
By regulation, prospects not locked into a roster could move relatively flexibly in the trade market.
So this winter, the Yankees had been scheming to acquire him before that window closed—before he was added to the 40-Man Roster.
They were willing to sacrifice a package of their own prospects, or even absorb massive losses by throwing in immediate-impact pitchers.
The reason was clear.
The Yankees, known as the “Evil Empire,” boasted a longer and more storied history than the Dodgers as baseball’s premier franchise.
They always wanted the best stars, and they saw that quality in Soo-ho.
Perhaps they had belatedly discovered a Korean player with the makings of a Yankees franchise star.
So they were determined to bring him in at any cost…
Thus, among scouts who understood baseball, Soo-ho’s value had skyrocketed beyond measure.
But those two defensive plays just now had reduced all their plans to nothing.
‘The Dodgers General Manager will probably turn off his phone now.’
Even if the game ended and they didn’t immediately add Soo-ho to the 40-Man Roster.
No matter who called, the Dodgers wouldn’t give them the time of day anymore.
A player who could excel at both Shortstop and Center Fielder simultaneously.
A player who could potentially perform at S-tier in both positions even in the Major League—no sane organization would sell such a prospect.
The scout irritably stuffed the crumpled paper into his pocket and muttered under his breath.
‘Lucky bastards….’
Acquiring such a monster for mere pocket change.
The Dodgers’ scouting ability was infuriating.
But he knew the truth.
It wasn’t that the Dodgers were fortunate.
Had his anger subsided?
His eyes, which had blazed with fury, cooled to an icy stare.
‘It comes down to the player’s own caliber.’
No matter how talented.
Even with countless opportunities, some players never break through—not in a thousand years.
Countless prospects arrive on American soil bearing the label of “the next whoever,” only to vanish without a trace.
But Soo-ho had shattered that shell through sheer force of will.
So while the Dodgers provided the opportunity,
it was Soo-ho alone who seized it.
‘Has there ever been a player who grew this rapidly?’
There had been, once.
Back when baseball hadn’t evolved to its current level.
By modern standards, Soo-ho was an anomaly.
‘A hybrid. A mutation.’
The Scout exhaled deeply, his gaze shifting from covetous to reverent as he watched the Ground.
‘He’s completely seized control through his defense.’
Baseball has an ancient adage.
Great defense begets great hitting.
A player riding momentum in the field carries that surge to the Batter’s Box.
Soo-ho had just delivered two consecutive defensive plays worthy of a Major League highlight reel.
How scorching his bat would be was painfully obvious.
Then it happened.
Dylan on the Mound, reinvigorated by Soo-ho’s defense, struck out the batter with three aggressive pitches.
“Strike out!”
Change of sides.
The Desert Dogs players rushed into the Dugout amid thunderous cheers.
Though it was early, they knew the momentum had shifted in their favor.
And the architect of that momentum—
the leadoff batter Soo-ho stepping into the Batter’s Box—
‘Alright. Let’s go.’
could not have looked more confident.

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