The Genius Hitter Who Conquered America - Chapter 19

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

Chapter 19
Immediately after my meeting with the Manager ended.
Soo-ho entered the Locker Room alongside Mark.
In that instant, the boisterous laughter that had filled the space ceased as though by some unspoken agreement.
The vitality that had drifted through the air transformed in a heartbeat into a heavy, awkward silence.
The players merely cast furtive glances in our direction.
Not a single one stepped forward to greet us or strike up a conversation.
“Damn, look at their eyes.”
Mark muttered as he pulled down the distinctive blue uniform hanging in his locker.
The Quakes’ uniform, being a Minor League affiliate of the Los Angeles Dodgers, shared a similar color palette with the Dodgers’ own.
Yet while maintaining the blue identity that defined the Dodgers, the Quakes possessed their own unique design.
And Mark’s jersey number was 4.
Soo-ho smiled at Mark’s grumbling and gazed at the uniform he would soon wear.
Jersey number 79.
Even the digits differed from Mark’s.
As Soo-ho changed into his uniform, Mark continued his complaints.
“No matter how I think about it, this is just too unfair. I don’t even know the names of the players I’ll be running alongside, and they just tell me to go out and play without a single introduction? Isn’t the Manager being a bit much?”
Soo-ho shook his head at Mark’s grievance.
“Mark, instead of complaining, hurry up and change.”
“No, seriously. We just arrived and haven’t even gotten a proper practice swing in, and now they’re telling us to go out and produce results? And in this kind of atmosphere no less? Does that even make sense?”
In truth, Mark’s complaint held considerable merit.
“Still, Mark. You’re in a better position than I am.”
“How so?”
Soo-ho pointed at the number on Mark’s uniform with his finger.
“At least the Manager seems to have far greater expectations for you than for me.”
Mark immediately bit his lip, looking flustered.
He couldn’t refute it.
Mark’s number 4 was conventionally the number worn by starting players in baseball.
It signified that the team viewed Mark as an important asset.
It also implied that the Quakes’ Manager held great expectations for him.
In contrast, my number 79 was a high number assigned only to Minor League players.
It carried the meaning of a temporary number given to those who weren’t yet confirmed starters or who had joined late.
This also meant the Manager held lower expectations for me.
“Ugh. Now that you put it that way, I’ve got nothing to say.”
Mark sighed and changed into his uniform.
My eyes, which had formed crescent moons with that gentle smile, suddenly narrowed to slits.
‘There must be an intention behind this.’
During my time in the KBO Minor League.
I had endured countless tests of this nature.
‘On the surface, it appears to be an irrational directive.’
Beneath the surface lay the sharp intentions of the managers, probing the player’s baseball intelligence and situational awareness.
If they had simply disliked what they saw at first glance, they wouldn’t have offered an opportunity at all.
So this was a test.
Not merely an assessment of skill, but a silent challenge to prove myself as the missing piece this team truly needed.
‘In baseball, reading the game is everything.’
I understood that deciphering the Manager’s strategy was the crux of today’s evaluation.
If I became the talent he sought, I could stand out even without delivering results today.
‘And I have to produce results regardless.’
That was the path to rapid growth.
* * *
Soo-ho and Mark sat side by side at the edge of the Dugout.
The two of us, having just joined today, couldn’t quite acclimate to the new atmosphere and watched the game in silence.
Yet unlike Mark, whose expression had grown rigid with tension.
My eyes swept ceaselessly across the Ground.
“The level is definitely high.”
I spoke at last.
My gaze fixed on the opposing Pitcher throwing four-seam fastballs from the Mound.
The velocity consistently exceeded 93 miles per hour—150 kilometers.
My assessment continued.
“It seems incomparable to the Dodgers Baseball Tryout.”
But it wasn’t necessarily superior to the KBO Minor League.
To be honest, the KBO Minor League played more seasoned, polished baseball.
Yet there was another reason for my astonishment.
‘The players are young.’
Extraordinarily young.
In terms of potential, they were incomparably superior to the KBO Minor League.
The Pitcher on the Mound looked barely twenty years old, with an youthful face.
Yet he was already throwing pitches exceeding 150 kilometers with complete control.
The batters were no different.
They didn’t succeed every time they swung or reached base.
But each swing carried tremendous power.
Moreover, their trajectories were clean, and each player’s distinct style was evident.
‘This means their mechanics are already near perfect.’
I recalled my own swing.
I had altered my mechanics under John Coach’s guidance.
But since those mechanics weren’t truly mine, I still lagged far behind them.
‘Yet lacking perfect mechanics isn’t the immediate priority.’
Catching the Manager’s eye came first.
Only then could I learn mechanics suited to me, even a day sooner.
‘Let me perform first.’
That’s why Soo-ho had been observing the game so intently.
By the time the fourth inning had passed.
The players’ swing trajectories, defensive positions, and base-running styles were fitting together in his mind like puzzle pieces.
From batter number one through nine, he’d assembled every piece, yet the complete picture remained elusive.
Soo-ho’s lips curved upward as if he’d reached an epiphany.
‘This team’s batting lineup has a weakness.’
As mentioned before, the players possessed truly exceptional talent.
‘But baseball isn’t something you can play with talent alone.’
Baseball is undeniably a team sport.
If everyone’s strengths align too similarly, you can’t achieve greater victories.
‘Now I understand why the Manager wanted to assess our abilities so urgently today.’
More precisely, I had come to realize what I needed to do to catch his eye.
Before long, the opposing pitcher changed.
Whoosh!
Whoosh!
Even during warm-up throws, he was hurling an extraordinary fastball.
“Wow. This guy’s insane. But where have I seen him before? Who was it?”
Mark furrowed his brow deeply, then briefly left his seat to check the opposing roster.
When Mark returned to his seat, he shook his head.
“Damn. I knew his face looked familiar.”
Soo-ho asked.
“Why? Who is he?”
Mark swallowed hard.
“Cade Foster. The guy they called ‘Cannon’ at the High School Invitational two years ago.”
Soo-ho had never heard the name before.
But from the tension in Mark’s voice, I could gauge just how formidable this pitcher was.
“He was one of the ‘Four Kings’ among high school pitchers back then. I didn’t face him directly that season because of an injury, but I’ve heard his name countless times. He’s a monster who throws 100 miles per hour.”
Mark let out a hollow laugh.
“That guy’s here now? And in our test game, no less? He’s probably going to throw incredibly well. That’s why I don’t want to face him right now. Please.”
Soo-ho nodded at Mark’s words.
‘A nickname like Cannon? A 100-mile-per-hour pitcher deserves it.’
As a Korean, I found American naming conventions a bit childish.
But I couldn’t mock them for it.
A nickname being given in the first place meant someone was that exceptional.
‘This is truly an exciting stage.’
On my first day in the Minor League, I was already facing a monster.
My heart raced.
I was thrilled to be able to compete at such a high level.
‘There won’t be just one or two monsters like him.’
Soo-ho fixed his gaze on Cade Foster atop the Mound.
His pitching form was clean and economical, and the power I felt emanating from his throwing arm exceeded my imagination.
‘Definitely different.’
He was in an entirely different league from the pitchers before him.
No wonder he was called an elite prospect—he was demonstrating it even during practice pitching.
And then.
“Hey. Rookies. Get ready to step up to the plate.”
Manager Taylor’s voice rang out.
Mark shot to his feet and protested.
“W-wait, you want us to go now?”
“Yeah. What’s wrong? You sure complain a lot.”
Complain? Mark certainly had complaints.
Why would he send them to bat the moment a crazy monster took the Mound?
Moreover, neither Soo-ho nor Mark himself had gotten a proper practice swing in today.
And now they were supposed to face a pitcher throwing 100 miles per hour.
This was clearly because he disliked them.
It was entirely intentional.
Mark glared at Soo-ho with eyes full of grievance.
His gaze was asking: shouldn’t you say something?
Soo-ho patted Mark’s shoulder reassuringly.
“Mark. It’s fine.”
And answered with his eyes.
If they pushed back here, they might not even get another opportunity.
Mark also glanced around nervously before whispering.
“How is it fine? Don’t you see that ball? We haven’t even warmed up—there’s no way we can respond to that pitch!”
“Trust me once? I’ll make sure we catch the Manager’s eye no matter what.”
“What? How?”
“It’s simple. Just swing with all your strength. Go up there thinking you’re going to hit a home run no matter what. I’m a pure power hitter—that’s the mindset.”
“Hey, I’m not like that! I have good contact too!”
“I know. I know, but I think showing the power you have would be good here.”
“But if I swing like that, I won’t be able to keep up with that velocity?”
“It’s fine. Don’t worry. Because…”
Soo-ho began explaining what I had sensed.
What was lacking in the Quakes based on today’s game.
“Looking at just today’s game, our Quakes lacked a definitive cleanup hitter. There was no batter who could display overwhelming power.”
The Quakes batters had power in their swings.
But that was the kind of power needed to hit singles and extra-base hits.
It wasn’t the innate power rooted in raw tools.
To put it more simply, there were plenty of hitters who could hit 20 home runs.
But the power to hit 30, 40 home runs.
A batter with that overwhelming power—the kind that produces only one result: home runs—was nowhere to be seen.
Mark’s eyes widened as I explained my observation.
“Wait, you’re really right about that?”
“Yeah. So Mark, if you show that kind of play here, the Manager will be satisfied.”
Mark clicked his tongue in admiration at my eye for the game.
“Insane. Your baseball IQ is incredibly high too?”
“It’s not something to brag about. I had to struggle reading the room just to survive in the KBO Minor League.”
“Reading the room? That’s not what this is—that’s your eye for the game! That’s completely valuable! But hey, what are you going to do?”
“I’ll show you through action rather than words.”
With that, I strode purposefully toward the Manager.
“I’ll step up to bat first.”
“Fine by me.”
I then pulled a bat from the Bat Rack and took my position in the On-Deck Circle.
Crack!
“Strike three!”
As the previous batter struck out, I stepped into the Left-handed Batter’s Box and took a deep breath.
Then I recalled another type that didn’t exist on the Quakes.
‘The leadoff hitter.’
In other words, the vanguard.
I didn’t see a leadoff type who showcased keen batting discipline, saw many pitches, and focused on getting on base.
Nor did I notice a player with the blazing speed needed to rattle opponents once on the bases.
Perhaps this was characteristic of American baseball.
Or perhaps it was characteristic of modern baseball.
‘They were all just eager to swing at whatever pitch they wanted.’
Simply put, it looked like individual play rather than teamwork.
‘But baseball is fundamentally a team sport.’
Of course, this was only the first game, and I couldn’t claim to know the players thoroughly.
But this much was certain.
‘Baseball isn’t about playing the hero.’
Back in Korea, to hide my weakness in hitting, I learned to contribute to the team more desperately than anyone else.
Getting on base, advancing runners, rattling the opposition.
That was the only way someone with my limited talent could survive.
Even without hitting home runs, a player who paves the way to scoring runs is absolutely necessary.
Stars can’t shine alone, after all.
These talented young players seemed not yet to understand that simple truth.
‘While they trust in individual talent, I’ll prove myself through team play.’
That was something they didn’t possess.
It would become my unique weapon.
‘Let’s go!’
I settled into my batting stance.
A type the Quakes didn’t have.
Or perhaps in the Major League itself, a dried-up archetype was preparing to spread its wings once more.

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