The Genius Hitter Who Conquered America - Chapter 106

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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 106
After Soo-ho’s home run in the bottom of the first inning, the Desert Dogs’ offensive onslaught was nothing short of a tempest.
Casey stepped up next with unwavering resolve.
His determination to give Soo-ho more opportunities to shine was no mere words.
He connected cleanly on the first pitch from a mentally shaken Max Thorn, driving a double through right-center field.
Then came Mark batting third, followed by Liam in the cleanup spot.
As if by unspoken agreement, they mercilessly bombarded the loosening opposing pitcher.
In moments, the score ballooned to 4-0.
Four runs in a single inning.
It was the kind of offensive barrage that made people wonder if the game was already decided.
Yet the Scorpions’ dugout remained far from defeated.
In fact, they were desperately clinging to hope.
“It’s fine! Just four runs!”
“This is the AFL. It’s a hitter’s league. One inning and we’re back in it!”
Their words held truth.
The players gathered here were the cream of the crop—top prospects from each organization.
They possessed the raw power to clear the fence and the ability to mount explosive rallies.
A four-run deficit? It was entirely within reach if they put their minds to it.
Moreover, these men could not afford to surrender.
This was their moment of desperation and opportunity.
They could not lay down their bats simply because they were behind.
‘I can do this. No—I must do this.’
A standout performance here.
Could earn them a spot in their organization’s spring training camp.
Perhaps even a better contract.
With these thoughts steeling their resolve, the top of the second inning commenced.
The leadoff batter was Jack Stone, batting cleanup.
He was the team’s home run leader and the pride of the Scorpions.
He stepped into the batter’s box with a hardened expression.
‘I have to change the momentum.’
One swing was all it would take.
One powerful hit to reverse the flow of the game.
He gripped his bat tightly, fixing his gaze on Pitcher Dylan on the mound.
Yet his eyes kept drifting elsewhere, drawn by some inexplicable force.
Behind the pitcher, between Second Base and Third Base.
To Soo-ho, the shortstop standing there.
‘Damn it.’
Jack instinctively furrowed his brow.
Soo-ho simply stood motionless.
Yet to Jack’s eyes, that figure loomed like an impenetrable wall.
The two defensive plays he’d shown in the top of the first inning.
Their afterimage was seared so deeply into his mind.
It was a terror—as if any batted ball heading that way would be sucked into a black hole.
The problem was that Jack employed an extreme pull-hitting style.
When he, a right-handed batter, put his power into the swing, the ball naturally traveled to the left side.
Toward the Shortstop and Third Baseman.
Under normal circumstances, this was his strength.
He could pierce the infield with hard-hit balls.
Even when opponents knew this, breaking through to seize momentum had always been his role.
But now….
‘If I send it there… I’m 100% getting out.’
A premonition bordering on certainty gripped him.
No matter how hard he hit it, that monster of a Shortstop seemed to be waiting there already.
Hadn’t he already proven it?
Of course, he could generate a higher exit velocity than other batters.
‘But what’s a few miles of difference?’
Could those few miles break through that Shortstop?
No. Impossible.
‘Of course, if I hit a perfect pitch, I can definitely clear the fence.’
But connecting on that perfect pitch wasn’t easy at this level where skills were evenly matched.
So what he needed now to keep pace with the score was at minimum to reach base.
There was only one way.
‘I have to push it.’
He had to consciously direct the batted ball to the right side—toward the First Baseman and Second Baseman.
Soo-ho wasn’t over there.
Jack repeated “push it” in his mind dozens of times.
Whoosh.
Then, Pitcher Dylan released the ball.
A fastball on the outside corner, perfectly placed.
It was exactly the right pitch for a push bunt.
Moreover, for a batter who naturally pulled everything, an outside pitch was ideal.
That’s why he’d decided to push it.
But Jack’s body betrayed his intentions.
Decades of ingrained habit and the instinct that “I have to hit it hard to break through” collided.
When the mind overthinks, the body stiffens.
His lower half instinctively opened for a pull swing, while his upper body and wrists twisted forcefully, trying to push the ball away.
His swing mechanics twisted into a complete mess.
Tick.
A dull, hollow sound rang out.
Missing the sweet spot entirely, the ball caught on the end of the bat and floated weakly into the air.
“Ah….”
A sigh escaped Jack’s lips.
The batted ball never left the infield.
To the right, Second Baseman Tommy Lewis backpedaled with his glove raised.
It was nothing more than an ordinary infield pop fly.
Pop.
“Out!”
Jack’s face flushed crimson as he slammed his bat to the ground and trudged into the Dugout.
It was anticlimactic.
One of the league’s most powerful hitters had retreated without managing a single proper swing.
The Scorpions batters watching him swallowed hard.
‘We’re being drawn in.’
They understood.
Why Jack’s swing had just collapsed.
It wasn’t because the pitcher’s fastball was exceptional.
It was the presence of Shortstop Soo-ho.
Soo-ho hadn’t even touched the ball this time, nor had he moved a single step from his position.
The mere fact of standing there—possessing the finest defensive instincts among the opposing team’s hitters.
He had shaken the mental fortitude of the cleanup batter and destroyed his batting balance.
Baseball is a mental sport.
Yet now Soo-ho was implanting compulsion in opposing batters through his mere existence.
This was the highest realm a fielder could achieve in baseball.
Called suppressive force—invisible defense that subdued the opponent before the ball even arrived.
Dylan on the Mound grinned widely.
‘This is easy.’
From a pitcher’s perspective, nothing could be more reassuring.
He simply had to look at the catcher’s mitt and throw.
The batters would destroy themselves trying to avoid Soo-ho anyway.
Dylan glanced back over his shoulder. Soo-ho adjusted his cap and bounced lightly on his feet.
His expression was almost bored—as if wondering when the next ball would come.
‘Honestly… it’s not just reassuring anymore. It’s actually terrifying.’
Dylan’s conviction that they couldn’t lose today.
And it was making the Desert Dogs’ shoulders feel even lighter.
* * *
As a result, the top of the second inning was a clean sweep.
An infield fly, a weak grounder in front of the pitcher, and a strikeout on a whiff.
The Scorpions batters flailed about like beginners learning baseball for the first time.
Forcing themselves to push the ball, their upper bodies tilted backward; swinging with bent wrists, there was no way to produce a proper hit.
An easy three-up, three-down inning accomplished without throwing even ten pitches.
Yet no one in the Stands dared to mock the opposing batters.
No, anyone who knew anything about baseball would have felt a chill run down their spine.
Among them, Scout Paul of the Dodgers let out an incredulous chuckle.
‘These players aren’t fools.’
Those gathered here in the Arizona Fall League were the chosen few—the most athletically gifted talents across the entire Minor League Baseball system.
But were they merely beasts with exceptional bodies?
‘Hardly.’
Baseball is a sport of rigorous probability and numerical advantage.
Their brains, capable of identifying and responding to pitch types in under 0.4 seconds from the batter’s box, operated as swiftly and cunningly as a supercomputer.
To be blunt, if these players packed their bags right now and crossed the Pacific to play as mercenaries in Korea’s KBO or
Japan’s NPB?
‘They’d be monsters capable of hitting 40 home runs in their debut season to claim league home run king, or as pitchers, winning 20 games and contending for league MVP.’
Indeed, hadn’t countless players followed such a path and devastated Asian leagues?
These elites couldn’t possibly be unaware that losing balance—the fundamental principle of batting—yields poor results.
Yet in the top of the second inning, they did exactly that.
‘No, they had no choice precisely because they knew.’
There was only one reason.
The presence of Shortstop Soo-ho.
The exit velocity of batted balls in American baseball is unmatched.
Infielders must defend with their lives against the vicious line drives that come their way.
Yet in the first inning, Soo-ho had erased those murderous batted balls with such serene composure.
The batters’ mental calculators must have been spinning frantically.
Swing with proper balance, send a hard line drive toward the shortstop, and there’s a 99% chance that monster’s reflexes would snare it for an out.
Abandon balance entirely, and there’s maybe a 10% chance of a lucky broken-bat hit that avoids the shortstop.
‘They probably calculated which probability was higher and attacked accordingly.’
They’d reached the absurd conclusion that abandoning proper hitting technique actually increased their on-base percentage.
‘So they swung irrationally, but under perfectly rational judgment.’
As a result, a single fielder was dismantling the entire opposing team’s batting mechanics and forcing them toward self-destruction.
‘I should prepare a report for the General Manager.’
A player like this not locked into the 40-Man Roster?
A single report would be enough to convince the General Manager.
Soo-ho was no longer merely a hitting player.
He was proving himself to be a defensive player as well.
‘If the Dodgers later need a defensively skilled player due to injuries, I could slot Soo-ho into that position.’
Multiple options.
In baseball, that’s always an advantage.
So if I just send the report, the General Manager will want to lock him into the 40-Man Roster himself.
‘The problem is… he’s already performing well enough, but I don’t think he’ll be satisfied stopping here.’
So maybe I shouldn’t rush to write the report and observe a bit longer?
As the game progressed, I’d need to note accomplishments beyond his defense.
Would things unfold exactly as Paul anticipated?
Bottom of the second inning, two outs.
Soo-ho stepped into the Batter’s Box.
* * *
Bottom of the second inning, two outs, bases empty.
Soo-ho took his position at the Batter’s Box again.
He smoothed the dirt in the Batter’s Box and smacked his lips.
‘Hmm… isn’t this just shunning me?’
He felt slightly disappointed.
During the top of the second inning, the opposing batters had deliberately avoided hitting the ball to the Shortstop.
‘I’m perfectly clean…’
Yet they twisted their bodies awkwardly as if he carried some contagion, desperately sending the ball elsewhere.
As a result, Soo-ho finished the inning without a speck of dirt on his uniform.
Others might have called it convenient, but for Soo-ho himself, it was anything but.
‘My condition is peak today—what a shame.’
So his body itched for action.
He wanted to showcase more on defense, but they wouldn’t engage with him, leaving him bored.
Of course, this was confidence.
It was proof that his instincts had reached their zenith on both offense and defense today.
Above all, there was one thing he could take solace in.
‘My turn at bat came around quickly.’
Another opportunity had arrived in the second inning.
He could settle the frustration from defense right here.
Soo-ho raised his bat and fixed his gaze on the Mound.
But the opposing side wasn’t foolish either.
Max Thorn, who had already given up a home run in the first inning, and Catcher Mike Rossi.
They knew painfully well that Soo-ho was in a groove today.
‘Don’t engage. Avoid him.’
The Catcher crouched low on the outside.
The Pitcher nodded.
With his mental state already shattered, he had no nerve to face Soo-ho head-on.
“Ball!”
“Ball!”
“Ball!”
Three pitches flew consecutively outside the Strike Zone.
Boos erupted from the Stands at pitches thrown as if they didn’t care about strikes.
But truthfully, the battery felt wronged too.
It was two outs now.
So why invite danger by avoiding a confrontation?
Originally, they’d planned to throw just one ball to test the waters.
But as the count turned unfavorable, they fell behind, and his control fell apart.
As a result, the count was 3-0.
An absolutely favorable count for the batter.
Normally, you don’t swing in this situation.
Unless you’re a power hitter aiming for the pitch the pitcher throws down the middle to get a strike.
Walking to First Base is the right move for the team.
A kind of unwritten rule—standard baseball strategy.
The Catcher knew this as well.
‘Let me throw one in to get a count. The batter won’t swing.’
The Pitcher nodded at the Catcher’s sign and threw the ball.
But the pitch slipped from his hand and was heading toward the ground.
If the batter didn’t swing, it would be a clear ball four.
But.
‘Let’s have some fun together….’
My eyes didn’t miss that pitch.
To others, it would have been an obvious ball, but my strike zone today was different.
With the ball appearing to hang in the air, a pitch that low was essentially a strikeable pitch.
In the end, I swung at the ball dropping to my ankles.
Crack!
With a crisp sound, the ball that had been falling toward the ground shot back up.
“…?!”
The opposing team’s eyes went wide.
It was definitely a ball.
Even one that would have bounced once.
And the count was 3-0.
There was absolutely no reason to swing at that pitch.
But the ball off my bat soared well over the Pitcher’s head and landed beautifully in front of the Center Fielder.
Thud.
The Center Fielder belatedly rushed out and caught it, but I was already comfortably standing on First Base.
The Scorpions’ players’ motivation couldn’t help but be crushed.
I looked like a demon that chased them down and bit them no matter how hard they tried to escape.
But there was an even bigger problem.
It was only the second inning.
They would have to face me several more times.

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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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