The Genius Hitter Who Conquered America - Chapter 105

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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 105
As Soo-ho stepped into the Batter’s Box.
“MVP! MVP! MVP!”
The roar erupting from the Stands was far louder and more fervent than usual.
It was thanks to the two spectacular Super Saves he had just displayed, which burned vividly into the spectators’ minds.
But what was particularly remarkable lay elsewhere.
In American Baseball, there was no praise greater than being called an MVP.
MVP was the title bestowed upon the best player in the League.
Of course, given the stage itself.
Soo-ho was not yet a Major Leaguer, so it might not be the highest praise possible.
But at the very least, the fans were classifying Soo-ho as a next-generation superstar.
I could sense that my status had risen tremendously.
Soo-ho barely restrained the smile threatening to spread across my face.
Then I lightly twirled the bat and steadied my breathing.
The game was still ongoing. This was not the time to celebrate.
‘Focus.’
The grip of the bat in my hands, the texture of the earth beneath my feet, and even the air enveloping my body.
Everything was crystal clear.
‘Today… the feeling is good.’
My body felt light as a feather.
In baseball, they call it a day when everything is clicking.
It’s a term primarily used for pitchers.
It refers to a day when control, velocity, and the angle of breaking balls all align perfectly.
But it wasn’t a term that applied solely to pitchers.
‘We batters have those days too.’
Days when the ball appears as large as a watermelon, or when there’s an illusion that it stops in front of Home Plate.
‘Today feels like one of those days.’
This was Soo-ho’s first at-bat.
So perhaps one could dismiss this as premature excitement from the start.
But I held absolute conviction in this feeling.
And for good reason.
‘Fielders too—defenders have days when everything clicks.’
I had proven it in the top of the first inning on defense.
What if I hadn’t handled those two batted balls?
The first batter would have reached on an infield single.
The second batted ball would have become a double down the left field line, resulting in either runners on Second and Third with no outs, or giving up a run first and then having a runner on Second with no outs.
We would have faced a crisis of massive runs from the very start.
But I erased it with my own hands.
They were difficult plays, yet I made them look effortless.
Therefore, my body felt this light.
That momentum would undoubtedly carry into the batter’s box.
Soo-ho let out a quiet chuckle to himself.
‘It’s been a while.’
This exhilaration, this sense of invincibility.
During his best days in High School, he’d felt this every single day.
Back then, he never thought he’d lose to anyone.
During his time in the KBO Minor League and through countless trials since coming to the United States, he’d forgotten that sensation.
‘And now it’s awakening on this crucial semifinal stage.’
Soo-ho lifted his head and gazed toward the Mound.
The opposing Pitcher, Max Thorn.
The Scorpions’ ace stood with a stern expression, absently working the rosin bag in his hands.
‘Still, I can’t let my guard down.’
Overconfidence was dangerous.
I hadn’t yet seen his pitches.
What if the opposing Pitcher was also having one of those ‘hot days’ like I am?
‘Then things could get difficult.’
In baseball, when a Pitcher and batter are both in peak form, the Pitcher always has the advantage.
The reason was simple.
The Pitcher controls the initiative.
The Pitcher throws the ball he wants, when he wants.
He acts first.
‘But the batter must see that ball and react.’
I’m always reacting.
So if both are at their peak, the one who acts first has an overwhelmingly higher chance of winning.
‘Still, it’s worth a try.’
Soo-ho adjusted his grip on the bat.
No matter how hot the opposing Pitcher might be, the atmosphere on this Ground right now—
That invisible force had already shifted to the Desert Dogs’ side.
‘Even the most iron-willed Pitcher would be psychologically shaken after his team’s scoring chances were repeatedly squandered and his defense made a mockery of him.’
He’d struggle to perform at full capacity.
‘My role is to solidify this momentum.’
I need to carry the flow I’ve brought into the batter’s box as well.
There was no need to rush.
‘First, let me observe one pitch.’
Soo-ho took his batting stance and fixed a piercing gaze on the Pitcher.
The first pitch would be a watch.
I needed to gauge the opposing Pitcher’s velocity, how the Referee was calling the Strike Zone today.
And most importantly, how much the Pitcher was actually rattled.
The first pitch.
The Pitcher threw with full force.
Crack!
The sharp report of the bat splitting the air echoed through the Stadium.
“Strike!”
With the Referee’s booming call, gasps erupted from scattered sections of the Stands.
“Wow….”
“The Pitcher is insane.”
The Scoreboard displayed the velocity: 97 miles per hour—roughly 156 kilometers.
But the numbers told only part of the story.
What truly stood out was the flawless control—the pitch knifing through the deepest corner of the Strike Zone near the batter’s body with surgical precision.
And when the ball thudded into the Catcher’s glove, that heavy, resonant sound testified that the pitch’s movement was equally formidable.
Without question, Pitcher Max Thorn possessed the potential to throw the game of his life today.
One of those rare, perfect days.
The spectators and Scouts shook their heads.
‘No matter how well Soo-ho has performed lately, this won’t be easy.’
Though he’d built momentum on defense, the monster on the Mound was equally formidable.
Everyone held their breath, watching for Soo-ho’s reaction.
Yet the expression on Soo-ho’s face in the Batter’s Box was strangely twisted.
Not fear. Not bewilderment.
‘What is this?’
I tilted my head in confusion.
The control was undeniably perfect.
Hearing the ball thud into the Catcher’s glove, I could sense the pitch’s weight and movement.
The velocity was undoubtedly fast.
So why….
‘Why does it look so pathetic?’
What I felt wasn’t intimidation, but a peculiar sense of letdown.
‘Is the spin insufficient?’
No. The spin was adequate.
So the reason I found this pitch so underwhelming was simple.
Over the past week, my brain had been hammered by Harry’s Widow Maker—those insane 120-mile-per-hour missiles.
My eyes and mind had adapted to that murderous velocity.
And beyond that.
My condition was exceptionally sharp today.
With all these factors converging.
A mere 97-mile-per-hour pitch felt as leisurely as a batting practice ball drifting toward me.
‘The opposing Pitcher is definitely having a perfect day too.’
I could tell from the crowd’s reaction.
Confidence radiated from the Pitcher’s expression.
Which meant.
‘This is unfortunate for him.’
A day when both pitcher and batter are equally off their game.
And ordinarily, the original pitcher holds the advantage in such conditions.
But even on those rough days, there are degrees of difference.
Today might well be the finest condition I had experienced throughout my entire baseball career.
However.
Baseball cannot remain merely a matter of feeling.
Ultimately, a batter must produce runs, and for that, proof was necessary.
‘The pattern is predictable.’
I calculated the battery’s next move with cold precision.
On the first pitch, he showed his most confident fastball inside.
So what comes next?
A bait pitch to disrupt the batter’s focus.
And after that, there was a high probability he would return to fastball-dominated pitching.
‘I’m letting the second pitch go.’
The second pitch.
As expected, a slider that curved sharply away on the outside corner.
It was an excellent pitch, but I didn’t budge.
“Ball!”
Count 1-1.
The pitcher’s brow furrowed slightly.
Realizing I hadn’t fallen for the bait, he seemed to decide to settle the matter, adjusting his grip once more.
My eyes flashed with intensity.
‘Here it comes.’
That fastball.
He would try to bury it in the same location as the first pitch—no, faster and more powerful.
The fateful third pitch.
A white flash seemed to burst from the pitcher’s fingertips.
Indeed, a fastball deep inside.
And the moment he released it, the pitcher clenched his fist.
Evidence that he had thrown exactly as intended.
However.
‘Watch.’
To my eyes, I could even see the seams rotating on the ball.
Though the pitcher had thrown with all his might, today the ball appeared to me like a stationary batting practice pitch.
Crack!
With an explosive burst of sound, my bat struck the ball’s center perfectly.
The sound alone was different.
The moment of contact—the pitcher, the catcher, and I myself all knew.
“Gone.”
This ball would clear the fence.
* * *
As Soo-ho rounded First Base and headed toward Second Base.
The Stands erupted with explosive cheers, and that familiar chant burst forth once more.
“MVP! MVP! MVP!”
It was the same word he’d heard stepping into the Batter’s Box, but its meaning had transformed entirely.
Before, it had been anticipation and encouragement.
Now it was a roar of certainty and acclaim.
Tens of thousands of spectators were pouring their praise upon Soo-ho with a single voice.
This wasn’t merely because he’d hit a home run.
He’d turned the impossible into reality on defense, and at the plate, he’d dismantled the opposing ace without hesitation.
He’d declared to the world exactly who controlled this game.
Soo-ho adjusted his helmet’s brim as he rounded the bases.
Something hot surged violently within his chest.
‘It really took long enough.’
Before coming to the United States, fan ridicule and trade rumors had clung to him like a shadow.
But now, he’d transformed every question mark into an exclamation point.
How could he not feel proud?
As he rounded the bases, Soo-ho raised his thumb toward the cheering Stands.
“Waaaaaaah!”
That single small gesture sent the Stadium into another thunderous ovation that seemed to shake the very foundations.
He was every inch the superstar.
As he stepped on Home Plate, Casey was waiting with a radiant smile.
The two exchanged a high-five so forceful their palms stung.
“Nice!”
Casey tapped Soo-ho’s helmet as he spoke.
“You’re making this game look easy again.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind. Go rest up.”
As Soo-ho disappeared into the Dugout with a bewildered expression, Casey pressed his helmet down firmly.
It was to hide the grin twitching beneath his cap’s brim.
‘There really is no monster like him.’
Casey glanced up at the Mound.
The opposing Pitcher’s mental state was visibly shattered.
‘It was already a rough day, and now this—he must be completely bewildered.’
And what of the fielders?
Their spirits were crushed by Soo-ho’s defense in the top of the first, and their minds were blown by his home run in the bottom of the first.
The entire Scorpions team had crashed into the massive wall that was Oh Soo-ho and descended into panic.
‘This is like being spoon-fed victory by force.’
It was only the first inning.
But he already believed the outcome was decided.
With a monster displaying such insane prowess on both offense and defense, losing this game? Impossible.
‘That would be a dereliction of duty.’
Unless every Desert Dogs player came down with food poisoning simultaneously, there was no scenario in which they could lose.
‘But….’
Casey adjusted his grip on the bat, his mind crystallizing with purpose.
Merely winning wouldn’t be enough.
Soo-ho’s condition today was nothing short of peak form.
Then as a friend, there was something he had to do.
Get him one more at-bat in the Batter’s Box.
Lay the groundwork so his value, his overwhelming talent, could be etched more indelibly across this vast United States.
‘For that to happen, the batting order needs to cycle faster, doesn’t it?’
Casey stepped into the Batter’s Box with a wry smile.
‘Let me put up some real stats today too.’

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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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