The Genius Hitter Who Conquered America - Chapter 29

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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 29
Leaving the Director’s Office, Soo-ho walked toward the dormitory in a daze.
The crisp night air cooled his flushed cheeks, still burning from the intensity of the game.
Yet it could not extinguish the inferno blazing within his chest.
Soo-ho’s mind was consumed by Taylor’s final words.
‘He’s going to write me a letter of recommendation for the Arizona Fall League?’
The Arizona Fall League was an autumn league where only the most promising prospects from each organization competed.
Playing there meant the organization viewed you as a prospect worth watching.
A smile spread across Soo-ho’s face without his realizing it.
‘He acknowledged me.’
Of course, there was the demanding condition of winning over his teammates’ hearts.
But that wasn’t what mattered.
The Quakes’ manager had recognized him not as merely another promising prospect.
But as the team’s cornerstone and future potential, declaring his support.
‘This is… truly joyful.’
It was genuine.
The baseball he had always believed in.
Dedicating himself to the team’s victory rather than individual statistics, tackling the hardest work first—his approach had been vindicated in the most concrete way possible.
Therefore, it was an affirmation that stirred his heart more than any praise ever could.
Then a thought struck Soo-ho.
‘Should I… tell Mark about this?’
Mark would surely—
If he learned that Soo-ho had seized such an incredible opportunity, he would celebrate it as if it were his own.
And perhaps—
‘He might even work harder for me in the playoffs?’
This way, it would serve his own goals.
And Mark would benefit his own statistics.
A perfect strategy that would be win-win for both.
The Arizona Fall League had always been a fervent goal he’d set even before joining this team.
Soo-ho stopped walking for a moment.
Then he shook his head.
‘No. I won’t tell him.’
The reason was simple.
It felt like cheating.
In a test where he had to win over his teammates’ hearts through his own abilities.
Showing the answer key to his closest friend and inducing the correct answer would be nothing short of fraud.
Could an opportunity gained through such deception truly be called his own merit?
‘I want to play baseball… for as long as my body can endure.’
For that, he couldn’t resort to shortcuts.
No matter how difficult and distant that path might be.
I had no choice but to break through head-on with nothing but my own abilities.
It was the only way I knew, and the way I did best.
I clenched my fists.
‘It’s okay. Oh Soo-ho. You’re going to grow anyway.’
I hadn’t come all this way to the distant United States just to live a half-hearted, compromised life.
So it was decided.
‘Give it my all. Let my play be an example to the other players.’
I could fail.
From the players’ reactions earlier, they showed absolutely no interest in the Low-A playoffs.
But it didn’t matter.
I wasn’t afraid of failure.
‘If I fail, it means I’m not good enough yet.’
A player who still has room to grow shouldn’t be reaching for something higher.
But on the other hand, if I succeed.
‘It would feel so much more meaningful.’
And I’d gain confidence too.
My second baseball life had only just begun.
If I build confidence here, I’ll be able to perform even better going forward.
My steps grew lighter.
* * *
A few days later.
The day of the playoff division series Game 1 finally arrived.
The Quakes’ opponent was the rival Inland Empire 66ers, a subsidiary of the LA Angels, from the same South Division.
They were a powerhouse team that dominated the California League, finishing overwhelmingly first among all eight teams this season.
Naturally, they were also first in the South Division.
Meanwhile, the Quakes, after Mark and I joined, accumulated wins at a furious pace and dramatically secured second place in the South Division.
Third place overall in the league, earning a playoff berth.
Overall league ranking meant.
The entire California League standings, including both South and North divisions.
A few hours before the game started.
The Quakes players loaded their belongings onto a dilapidated long-distance bus parked in the team parking lot.
This was the reality of Minor League Baseball.
Unlike Major Leaguers who crossed continents on private jets.
These players had only this decrepit bus as their sole means of transportation, one that logged tens of thousands of kilometers annually.
“Ugh. I still can’t get used to this bus.”
Mark, who had claimed a seat first and loaded his luggage, grumbled as he squeezed his massive frame into the cramped seat.
Sitting next to him, I let out a quiet laugh.
I shared the same sentiment.
‘The KBO 2nd Team bus back in Korea was so much better.’
At least the bus I’d ridden in Korea wasn’t this worn and creaky.
But I decided to stop the denial and look at the positive side first.
“Still, it’s not far. San Bernardino is only thirty minutes away. Let’s just tough it out a bit longer.”
“Yeah, that’s the only saving grace.”
Mark grumbled.
“If we had to face those northern teams like Fresno or San Jose, we’d be trapped in this prison for six hours straight, and our butts would be completely destroyed.”
Mark’s words captured the essence of the Low-A System.
Since player transportation was almost entirely handled by bus, it was done in an extremely practical manner to minimize travel distance and cut costs.
‘Should I start getting ready soon?’
I had goals to accomplish.
First, the primary one.
‘I need to put up solid numbers in this playoff run.’
As Taylor had said.
If I dominated the playoffs, I could potentially move up to the next league.
‘And the other one… I need to give it my all.’
At least one player needed to step up and play for the team in this playoff.
‘Because Arizona is on the line for me.’
To make that happen, I first needed a decisive victory to lift their spirits.
My eyes turned toward the front of the bus.
I then stood up and made my way to the two people sitting in the very front seats.
They were John Miller, the caster handling the Quakes broadcast, and Bill Heywood, the commentator.
They were traveling on this same bus along with the players.
I approached caster John and asked politely.
“Um, John. If you don’t mind, could you switch seats with me for a moment?”
John looked at me with surprised eyes.
“Why? What’s going on?”
“Oh, it’s not that. I did analyze the opposing team, but I feel like there’s still something lacking. I wanted to ask Bill a few things.”
Bill was the commentator.
The commentator possessed more knowledge than the caster.
Perhaps he had the most extensive knowledge in all of Minor League Baseball.
“Oh! Really? That’s what this is about? Ha ha, no problem at all! You really are as driven as your play shows.”
John readily stood up from his seat.
Then, noticing the empty seat next to Mark, he walked over and tapped him on the shoulder.
“Take care of things on the way, Mark!”
“Huh? John? Why are you switching seats?”
“Your friend wants to analyze the opposing team. You know how it is—Bill, who’s handling the commentary, knows the entire California League inside and out.”
Mark glanced toward the front seats where I was sitting with Bill and muttered.
“Ah… that’s so like Soo-ho.”
But truthfully, Mark didn’t quite understand my actions.
He knew I was a driven player, but he wondered if it was really necessary to go that far.
Of course, baseball was a sport where data was paramount.
‘The season’s already over anyway.’
The players who would be promoted had already been decided.
So extracting information from the commentator like that…
Even if I produced results in this game, I didn’t think much would change.
Of course, the performance I put up here might help later on.
But if it would help later, I figured it’d be a hundred times better to just perform better when that time came.
‘That’s our Soo-ho for you. Still living such a tiresome life, I see?’
Actually, this was praise.
There was nothing wrong with a player being diligent.
And then there was one more person.
Casey Meyer, resting his head against the window of the bus’s back seat.
As if aware of the commotion beyond his headphones, his gaze briefly turned forward.
In that instant, his brow furrowed ever so slightly.
‘What’s that about?’
Why was he switching seats?
Soo-ho had done something strange again.
But he decided not to pay it much mind.
Soo-ho, unaware that he was the subject of two people’s attention, immediately began questioning Bill.
“What kind of play do you think would work best against the opposing team?”
Bill decided to answer earnestly, drawing from his knowledge.
And for good reason—look around the bus right now.
Everyone wore expressions of not wanting to play the next game.
But Soo-ho?
He alone was brimming with enthusiasm.
“I’m a commentator, not a baseball player, so I’m not sure if this will help, but I’ll answer what I know. First, your batting. You know it’s become pretty famous, right? Your average exit velocity is number one in Low-A? So the opposition will definitely be wary of your hitting.”
“That’s good news. Then what if I go up to the plate with a safety bunt instead of swinging on my first at-bat?”
Bill furrowed his brow and stroked his chin.
“Hmm. Honestly, if I were you, I wouldn’t do that. Putting aside your strength to get on base with a bunt… even if you do get on, it might not look that good. You know how America feels about bunting, right?”
“But it would help the team, wouldn’t it?”
“If you get on base, sure, it helps the team. But personally, it could hurt your evaluation.”
“Yes. But conversely, if I successfully bunt, the opposition would have to be wary of my bunt on the next at-bat, wouldn’t they?”
“That’s true.”
“Then it becomes easier for me to get a hit.”
Bill nodded.
Because, as he’d explained earlier, Soo-ho’s current ground ball exit velocity was number one in Low-A.
And his well-struck ball velocity was also number one.
So if the opposition played up, the probability of getting a hit increased significantly.
Even with normal positioning, hits came from his overwhelming exit velocity.
What more with an aggressive defense?
Probably, if they positioned themselves closer, they wouldn’t even try to catch the ball—they’d be too startled to move.
“If things go according to your plan, that would be ideal. But if you fail the bunt, or even if you succeed, if no hit follows afterward, it could absolutely become a deduction factor. That’s the real problem.”
Beyond the batted ball speed, what weighed most heavily was the lack of confidence I sensed.
“But ultimately, you’re saying it’s good as long as things go according to plan, right?”
“Yeah. It has to be that way. After all, you’d have two hits either way. So it’s all or nothing.”
Soo-ho liked Bill’s final words.
‘All or nothing.’
That was precisely the mindset I needed right now.
To make the organization take notice of me.
And to inspire my teammates, I had to show them something completely different from what everyone else could do.
‘Deduction factors? I shouldn’t even think about those—only the positive aspects.’
A bunt hit is ultimately hustle.
‘Hustle plays can elevate not just me, but the entire team’s morale, no matter what stage we’re on.’
I’d have to run like hell and might even have to throw my body around.
This kind of play leads to an adrenaline rush.
‘That alone is reason enough to do it.’
Not fearing failure as a deduction factor.
That was my greatest weapon right now.
Above all, the reason I’d asked the question in the first place was simple.
I needed confirmation.
I couldn’t claim to understand American baseball completely—my years playing in Korea far outweighed my time here.
Soo-ho smiled brightly, his eyes filled with conviction.
“That was a sufficient answer. Thank you, Bill.”
“This guy. You’re really going through with it, aren’t you? Fine. With your bat control, it’s not exactly an impossible gamble.”
“I’ll take full responsibility for the outcome.”
“Good thing you understand that much.”
After that, Soo-ho rose from his seat with a slight bow.
Then he walked back toward the front seat where Mark was sitting.
Mark, who had been watching the entire exchange with a blank stare, suddenly blurted out as Soo-ho plopped down beside him.
“Are you planning some secret strategy or something? Your expression… I thought you were about to march off to war.”
Soo-ho gave a short nod.
“Something like that. It’s my own personal war.”
“…What?”
Soo-ho decided to say no more.
‘Seeing once is better than hearing a hundred times.’
Proving it through results on the ground would be far faster and more certain than talking about it a hundred times over.
I wasn’t about to waste the opportunity I’d been given.

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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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