The Genius Hitter Who Conquered America - Chapter 21

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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 21
Soo-ho and Mark found Taylor’s office.
“Sit.”
Taylor gestured toward them with his chin, his body sunk deep into a worn leather chair behind his desk.
The two sat carefully in the chairs before him, their faces tense.
Silence hung in the air.
For a long moment, Taylor merely shuffled through documents, saying nothing.
Finally, in that suffocating silence, Taylor lifted his head.
His gaze passed over Mark and fixed directly on Soo-ho.
His first words were not praise or encouragement, but a sharp question.
“You. Why did you bunt?”
There seemed to be a subtle note of reproach in his voice.
“I told you clearly. You had one chance. So why did you throw it away yourself?”
Soo-ho had successfully reached base with a surprise bunt.
It was a result as valuable as a single.
Yet Taylor spoke as if Soo-ho had done something wrong.
Why?
Because America didn’t favor bunts?
Because swinging with all his might to produce extra-base hits would be more helpful to the team?
Because that was the American way?
Mark’s shoulders flinched.
But Soo-ho met the manager’s gaze with an unwavering look in his eyes.
“While watching the game from the Dugout, I realized the Quakes were missing something.”
Taylor’s eyebrows twitched.
“Missing something?”
“There were plenty of talented batters, but I felt the team lacked the type who could trouble opposing pitchers and create offensive momentum by getting on base by any means necessary.”
Soo-ho spoke calmly, yet with conviction.
“So I wanted to become the missing piece this team needed most for victory. Of course, it was also about showcasing my strengths.”
Taylor’s eyes sharpened.
“Why? Everyone wants to move up as quickly as possible. What does a Low-A team even matter? It’s not just us. All the prospects from other organizations are the same way.”
Perhaps Taylor’s words reflected the cold reality that permeated modern Minor League Baseball itself.
Hundreds of Minor League teams.
Thousands of prospects.
Yet the door to the Major League they all gazed toward was narrower than the eye of a needle.
That was why the Minor Leagues were not teammates cooperating for their team’s championship, but rather
a vast survival audition where only competitors fought over a single ticket to the Big Leagues.
Every evaluation was made in numbers.
Exit velocity, launch angle, slugging percentage.
Scouts and front offices paid no attention to outdated values like sacrifice bunts or advancing runners.
Only the flashy data that could prove individual talent mattered.
Sacrificing oneself for a teammate’s sake—such teamwork—
was nothing more than a foolish act that diminished one’s own value within this cold, unforgiving system.
‘Is this truly how Americans think?’
I understood well enough how the United States operated.
Rather than advancing a runner into scoring position with two singles,
it was far more efficient to reach scoring position immediately with a double.
‘But if everyone played that way… that wouldn’t be a team.’
Baseball was a team sport.
That was what I believed.
And so I remained silent for a moment.
I simply met the Manager’s piercing gaze.
‘But something feels off.’
Though the Manager’s voice was laden with resignation and mockery, his eyes told a different story.
They held the same light as the manager back in Korea who had once looked after me.
The kind of eyes that spoke harsh truths on the surface, yet silently pleaded: please don’t break.
Deep within that gaze flickered not disappointment, but a sharp, desperate eagerness to confirm something.
In that instant, I understood.
‘This isn’t a rebuke.’
It was a test.
The Manager was probing me now.
Whether I was merely one of countless prospects who would conform and compromise to this selfish reality,
or whether I was a prospect who would pursue convictions that might now seem antiquated.
I smiled faintly.
“Because baseball is a team sport, sir.”
Taylor’s jaw dropped as if he’d lost all words.
I revealed my true objective.
“I believed that by demonstrating how I fill the team’s gaps, I could prove my growth potential to you and the organization. I wanted to show that I’m a player worthy of your coaching here.”
I continued.
“I’m a Minor League player too. Of course I admire the Major League, and while I’m no expert, I understand its ecosystem. Everyone wants to be the closer. Everyone wants to be a star. But that only diminishes our chances of winning. Someone must quietly fulfill a different role.”
A star cannot shine alone.
Someone must build the stage and cast the spotlight for it to truly radiate most brilliantly.
When a player like me sets the foundation,
when I manage to reach base by any means, everything changes.
The cleanup hitter’s ordinary single becomes a game-winner.
A high fly ball becomes a sacrifice fly.
A solo home run worth one point returns as a two-run, three-run homer that shifts the game’s weight.
That was baseball. A team sport.
Taylor stroked his chin, his brow furrowing.
“So what you’re saying is, you have no desire to become a star. Is that it?”
“That’s not what I mean. I too, if by chance fortune smiles and I become a Major Leaguer someday, I do want to be a star. But I have no wish to stand out alone. And I believe everything has its stages.”
“Stages. What exactly does that mean?”
“Even if I’m fortunate enough to become a Major Leaguer soon, I can’t immediately claim my desired batting order. As a pitcher, I can’t become the ace right away.”
“And?”
“I simply want to become the player my team needs most. Rather than dreaming of stardom all at once, I want to play in one more game. As I grow and accumulate experience that way, perhaps one day I’ll unexpectedly become the solution my team is looking for.”
“But by then, your value might have diminished. There’s a reason other guys dream of becoming superstars overnight.”
“That doesn’t concern me.”
“Why? Do you lack ambition?”
“No. I have ambition. But I believe that in the United States, a player who quietly fulfills his role will receive fair evaluation.”
Taylor couldn’t help but admire him.
It was as if he’d just heard a perfect briefing.
“Fine. I understand your intentions. Now get out. I’ll assign someone to escort you back to the dormitory.”
Mark asked urgently.
“Um, aren’t you going to ask me anything?”
“You hit a home run, didn’t you?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Then what else is there to ask?”
A home run. The ultimate result that modern baseball pursues most.
Mark and Soo-ho left the office together.
* * *
The heavy door closed, and silence returned to the office.
Left alone, Taylor relaxed his distorted expression and removed the cap he’d been pressing down firmly, setting it on the desk.
“Hah….”
A sigh escaped his lips—whether a hollow laugh or an exclamation of admiration, it was unclear.
‘…That kid knew everything.’
The test I had given him.
He had seen through the intentions behind it perfectly.
Taylor himself had never possessed flashy talent during his playing days.
He simply loved baseball and knew how to dedicate himself entirely for his team’s victory.
Cherishing every single point.
Coordinating with his teammates to score runs.
And those who were selfish back then.
Those who believed personal statistics were everything.
Most of them never climbed to higher stages and simply disappeared.
‘When the team crumbled, they blamed each other, and when their stats dropped, they envied their teammates.’
They never grasped the simplest truth: baseball is not a game played alone.
‘After retirement, after becoming a manager… the Major League has changed completely.’
Now it was solely about scoring one point through individual ability.
Modern baseball made it difficult for batters to get hits as pitcher standards rose.
‘But ultimately, that’s not what matters.’
Taylor’s goal was unwavering.
To build a team where everyone played as one.
I wanted to make the prospects understand that the team was greater than any individual.
But it had been nearly twenty years since I took this position.
There was a time when I too had nothing but passion and determination.
After watching countless disciples disappear while chasing only their personal statistics, I came to believe I was wrong.
‘I thought my baseball days were finished.’
I believed I could no longer dream.
The times had changed.
Whenever I spoke the word “team,” all I received in return was ridicule and contempt—dismissed as an old fool.
Somewhere along the way, I too had begun blaming the era for changing, surrendering to resignation about everything.
‘Growth,’ not ‘proof.’
‘Team,’ not ‘individual.’
These were words I had never once heard from the young players competing in the Minor League these days.
‘That’s right. That kid is correct. A star cannot shine alone.’
This wasn’t merely a Minor League issue.
The entire history of the Major League proved it.
More than a dream team assembled from eleven superstars.
A well-structured team built around a few stars, where each member quietly performed their role like cogs in a machine, had always proven stronger.
When there were supporting players willing to sacrifice themselves under the banner of the team.
That was when a truly formidable team was born.
But in today’s American baseball, saturated with individualism, such a sight was rare to witness.
‘Everyone wants to be a star themselves, so the supporting players who could elevate the stars have vanished.’
Yet… in such an era, a talent with a fundamentally different mindset had appeared.
The Korean prospect who had just joined us understood this.
‘He grasps the very formula of team victory.’
And this was certainly advantageous for the player.
It was clearly an advantage for Soo-ho himself as well.
‘Because a player of a different type than everyone else could play in one more game.’
Everyone was chasing home runs.
No—at minimum, they were trying to hit extra-base hits.
But a completely different type.
What if a player who was almost old-school suddenly stepped into the Batter’s Box and disrupted the opposition?
In these times when players avoid injury.
When they won’t play for the team because they’re worried about their own bodies, Soo-ho would inevitably stand out.
‘Of course… looking at the reports, he’s not just a player with exceptional speed.’
Soo-ho possessed natural power.
‘His hitting accuracy is slightly lacking, but that’s certainly a problem we can fix.’
So if Soo-ho maintained his style going forward and also developed his hitting?
It would be the return of a true five-tool player—something this era had deemed extinct.
Taylor reached into the drawer and pulled out an old, worn baseball stained with the patina of time.
That his baseball was flawed.
It was like a dying ember he had buried deep within himself, consoling himself that times had changed.
“…Found him.”
For the first time in ages, a genuine smile graced Taylor’s lips.
“The heart of this team.”
Not just the Minor League.
The Dodgers.
Possibly even the heart of the entire Major League.
How could I possibly sit still!
Taylor had reviewed Soo-ho’s Minor League footage from his KBO days.
And the Baseball Tryout videos as well, meticulously.
Then, three hours later.
After nodding his head several times, he opened his phone and made a call somewhere.
Soon, a familiar voice came through the receiver.
-Hello?
“Kevin, it’s me.”
-Ha ha, so, did you receive the gifts Frank sent? Now that you’ve seen them in person, what do you think?
Kevin. The Farm Director of the Dodgers’ voice carried a note of anticipation.
Taylor chuckled softly and picked up a document.
“Gifts, you say… Not bad at all. Especially Mark Williams—that guy’s the real deal. His high school MVP title wasn’t just talk. His raw power is something you don’t see at this level. I could throw him into High-A or Double-A right now and he’d be a cornerstone of the lineup.”
-I thought so. He’d be perfect if not for the injury risk.
“His rehabilitation looks solid too. He’ll be a major asset to our playoff push right away. Frank’s got an eye for talent, even now.”
-Ha ha, he’d be pleased to hear that. Right. So Mark is one thing… but.
Kevin’s voice grew more serious.
The real purpose of the call came through.
-What about the other one? Honestly, I can’t quite tell if he’s a genius or a failed prospect.
“You’re the one who sent him here.”
-If what I saw at the Baseball Tryout was his peak, then it’s unfortunate. If it wasn’t his peak, he’s a player worth developing. You know as well as I do that it’s difficult to assess a player in just one day.
Taylor fell silent for a moment.
Then, gazing out the window, he spoke slowly.
“Let me cut to the chase. This kid’s engine is top-tier even by Major League standards. In other words, not Minor League—Major League. But he doesn’t have the chassis to control that engine. With a broken mechanism, he’s been hitting the ball purely on raw talent alone. One clumsy coach touches him and this raw gem will shatter.”
-That matches our assessment, so that’s reassuring. So what’s your thinking?
“The finest material demands the finest craftsman. Alex—send him down here immediately.”
Taylor’s final words carried an unwavering resolve that brooked no argument.
-Alex, huh… The fact that you want him tells me he really is the real deal. Understood. I’ll have him sent down first thing tomorrow.

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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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