The Genius Hitter Who Conquered America - Chapter 38

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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 38
Top of the 5th inning. Score: 4-7.
Soo-ho stepped up as the leadoff batter.
The game wasn’t over yet.
His eyes burned with a fire that set him apart from the other Quakes players.
Of course, the momentum clearly favored the opposition.
The Starting Pitcher had crumbled, and with each passing inning, the deficit widened.
If I don’t turn the tide here, the gap will become insurmountable.
Soo-ho adjusted his helmet and steeled his resolve.
I’ll shift the momentum back.
Truth be told, Soo-ho had never aspired to be a hero.
His definition of a hero had always been a superstar.
By his current standards, that meant someone like Casey Meyer waiting in the On-Deck Circle.
Or Mark Williams, the cleanup hitter—true prodigies.
So he would simply do his best.
The reason was simple.
I have to survive in this Minor League Baseball world.
But mere survival wasn’t enough.
Soo-ho wanted to become a better player.
He wanted to climb higher.
To do that, he needed more confidence than he had now.
So I’ll get on base, no matter what.
As hits and on-base instances accumulated, they would build confidence, and that confidence would become skill.
I have the confidence.
On the Mound stood the Giants’ ace.
Mason White.
He had wavered in the first inning, but with offensive support, he seemed to have regained his composure—or so it appeared. Yet Soo-ho knew better.
He’ll be wary of me.
The nightmare from the top of the first inning would linger.
That burden would shake the pitcher.
Trauma didn’t fade easily.
So Soo-ho intended to exploit the urgency the pitcher would feel.
The moment Soo-ho stepped into the Batter’s Box, the pitcher’s expression hardened.
Then he immediately went into his windup.
Just as I thought. He’s rushing.
Soo-ho’s bat whipped sharply at the pitch coming down the middle.
Crack!
The crisp sound of contact shattered the silence of San Jose Stadium.
The ball cleanly split the gap between the Shortstop and Second Baseman, rolling toward the center fielder.
A clean single up the middle.
Soo-ho dropped his bat and stepped onto First Base.
Three at-bats, two hits in today’s game.
The dying embers of momentum were beginning to reignite, yet Soo-ho remained unsatisfied.
‘I need to score at least one more run from here.’
If we mount a comeback, the opposing team will have no choice but to panic.
And whether that comeback happens rests entirely in my hands.
‘The problem is… the players’ resolve.’
Soo-ho thought of the next batter and the one after that.
‘Casey and Lewis.’
Casey was currently two-for-two.
Lewis was oh-for-two.
‘Casey’s batting form is at its peak. I’d love to see a hit, but….’
In truth, no matter how talented Casey was, he couldn’t get a hit every time.
‘Still, he has the highest probability of getting a hit on the team, so let’s shake up the pitcher as much as possible.’
But it would be better not to attempt a stolen base.
Getting a runner to Second Base was always beneficial.
It would put them in scoring position, and with my speed, even a single would allow me to dash home.
Plus, it would avoid the risk of a double play.
‘But if the stolen base attempt fails, there’s a risk.’
My goal this inning is to reclaim the momentum we’ve lost.
Even if not completely, to regain some of it.
But what if a stolen base attempt fails here?
Far from reclaiming momentum.
The Quakes would crumble entirely.
There was also the matter of trusting Casey.
I wanted that brilliant hitter to focus on the batter’s box rather than get caught up in strategy.
If I attempted a steal, the batter would have to adjust accordingly.
‘Let’s not steal his good batting form. Just wait.’
Soo-ho widened his lead and kept the pitcher honest.
But then.
“Strike! Out!”
Casey’s bat sliced through empty air.
The pitcher’s bait had drawn a massive strikeout swing.
Casey had displayed a classic home run swing.
Greed to flip the 4-7 deficit with a single home run had backfired.
Soo-ho bit his lip.
‘… Lewis probably won’t be any different.’
Third batter Lewis stepped into the batter’s box.
Without a hit today, his eagerness would be anything but lacking.
He would be desperate to make up for his poor performance with one swing.
‘Should I try to steal a base here?’
After deliberating, I shook my head.
‘No. Trust him.’
In truth, it wasn’t about trusting Lewis.
It was about trusting Mark, the cleanup hitter in the on-deck circle.
‘Mark is 1-for-2 today, but in his first at-bat, he swung to move the runners along for his teammates.’
Even in his second at-bat that resulted in an out, he’d made light contact without straining, only to have the ball find a fielder.
Therefore, among the Quakes, Mark was the player whose thinking most closely aligned with my own.
‘I can feel that Mark genuinely wants to win.’
So Mark would surely abandon his own desires and continue the team batting approach.
Even if Lewis made an out this at-bat, as long as it wasn’t a double play, the opportunity would pass to Mark.
As expected, Lewis chased the pitcher’s bait and lifted a pop-up to third base.
In an instant, two outs with a runner on first.
Just as the momentum was cooling, Mark stepped into the batter’s box.
But Mark didn’t betray my faith in him.
Rather than forcefully pulling the outside pitch the pitcher threw, he lightly pushed it the other way with a gentle swing.
Crack!
A clean right-field single.
With two outs, I broke for home the instant I heard the crack of the bat.
Thud-thud-thud-thud!
My feet touched second base as I accelerated toward third.
But the ball was heading straight toward the right fielder.
The right fielder quickly caught it and prepared the relay throw.
In a normal situation, the standard play would be to stop at third base.
But I had no intention of doing that.
‘If I stop here… it’s over.’
The next batter was Alexander Jackson, the number five hitter.
He was a typical power-hitting type.
With two outs and runners on first and third, would he really execute team batting?
‘No. He’ll want to be the hero and swing for the fences.’
If we squandered this chance, today’s game would truly be over.
‘So I need to score and shift the momentum right now!’
I ignored the Third Base Coach’s signal to stop and sprinted for home.
The right fielder’s throw went to the Second Baseman.
“Home! Home!”
The Second Baseman’s throw continued to home plate.
The throw and I converged on home plate simultaneously.
Without hesitation, I launched myself into a headfirst slide.
Thwack!
The Catcher’s glove tagged my back hard.
Almost simultaneously, Soo-ho’s hand swept across Home Plate.
But the Referee’s fist shot up decisively.
“Out! Out!”
By a hair’s breadth. It was an out decided by the thinnest of margins.
“…Damn it!”
Soo-ho lay sprawled on the dirt ground, pounding his fist against the earth with all his might.
Boom!
His palm stung, but it was nothing compared to the ache in his chest.
No matter how reckless that base run had been.
‘I wanted to keep the spark alive somehow….’
To squeeze out at least one run with my own legs.
I wanted to grab my teammates by the collar as they gave up and drag them forward.
But the result was an out.
The top of the fifth inning ended without any progress.
Soo-ho still lay on Home Plate, unable to lift his head.
Because for him, this was not merely an out.
It was the chance to awaken this team today.
Perhaps the last one, and he had squandered it with his own hands—this self-recrimination consumed him.
“Damn….”
As Soo-ho remained on the ground, unable to rise from his regret.
Mark, unable to bear it any longer, approached and helped Soo-ho to his feet.
But Soo-ho did not know.
That his play just now had not been a failure.
At least it had kindled a great fire in someone from the Quakes’ heart.
And that someone was none other than.
‘….’
Casey, whose lower lip was bleeding from how hard he was biting it.
* * *
Soo-ho, covered in dirt from head to toe, trudged into the Dugout.
Just as his teammates were about to offer words of comfort.
Someone roughly grabbed Soo-ho’s arm.
It was Casey.
Before Soo-ho could react, he dragged him toward the dark corridor behind the Dugout, away from prying eyes.
“Huh, what? Casey?”
Soo-ho called out in confusion, but Casey did not stop.
Only when they reached the corner of the corridor did he roughly push Soo-ho against the wall.
Boom.
His back hit the wall.
It was not painful, but the impact conveyed the other’s raw emotion perfectly.
Soo-ho lifted his head and looked at Casey.
Casey’s usually expressionless face was now contorted with a fury I had never witnessed before.
“You. Why did you do that?”
I blinked.
I couldn’t fathom the intent behind his question.
Was he blaming me for the failed home plate rush?
“Do what?”
“Why would you go that far!”
Casey’s shout echoed through the corridor.
His eyes held an expression of incomprehension, or rather—
As if he were staring at something terrifying, he glared at me.
“You. You already got into the Arizona Fall League.”
“???”
“I heard everything you said with the Manager. So you’ve already succeeded this season… So why on earth!”
Casey pointed at my dirt-covered uniform.
“Why would you throw your body away for that meaningless single run!”
Only then did I understand.
Why Casey was so furious.
And how he saw me.
Casey wasn’t wrong.
This is the Minor League.
One Team? Perhaps such things don’t matter after all.
Since everyone thinks only of themselves, personal statistics and promotion come first.
Even Major Leaguers don’t run themselves to death in every game of a 162-game season.
They let go of what should be let go, and only secure what must be secured.
That is the professional’s wisdom and technique for enduring a long season.
Much less a player whose reward was already guaranteed.
To risk injury and throw himself toward home in a Minor League game where the outcome hardly matters?
In Casey’s baseball philosophy that prioritized efficiency and logic, it was madness and a mistake.
The bewilderment vanished from my eyes.
In its place came a calm, resolute light.
“Did I do something wrong?”
Casey’s brow furrowed.
“…What?”
“I don’t think so.”
My eyes changed.
They held a firm resolve.
But not the efficiency or calculations Casey believed in.
Something far more primal lay within them.
I continued speaking.
“For me, being a professional means running hard and giving my absolute best in every single game.”
“….”
“I don’t want to run half-heartedly just because I’ve achieved my goal. Whether it’s the first inning or the ninth, whether we’re winning or losing. It doesn’t matter if others think this championship game is meaningless. If I’m on the ground in this uniform, I’ll run until I drop.”
This was what I considered to be a professional.
Perhaps because I had tasted failure once, it was a desperation that no one else could possess.
And I knew it too.
Would my actions truly yield no benefit?
No. There is one.
Equal skill doesn’t exist.
If abilities are similar, the one who works harder gets selected.
‘The uniform isn’t armor that protects me.’
It’s merely a borrowed item that the club can take away at any moment.
I had experienced that cold reality painfully.
Because of that, there was no next time or shortcuts.
I wouldn’t even dream of them.
This was my driving force.
It was the moment that proved why I was performing well in the playoffs.
Not because I had mastered the mechanics.
But because my mindset toward the game itself was different.
Casey’s eyes wavered.
It was a statement that couldn’t be refuted with logic.
No. His head could argue against it, but his heart was denying it.
This foolish and stupid answer from Soo-ho.
Was shaking the very foundation of the definition of baseball that Casey himself had built over a lifetime.
‘….’
There was one more reason he couldn’t refute it.
Deep in his chest.
That pure yearning he had held when he first started baseball was vigorously nodding at Soo-ho’s words.
It was cool.
Compared to himself, who was called a genius—standing at the batter’s box while calculating gains from statistics and computing efficiency.
Compared to that.
Soo-ho’s foolish appearance right now looked far more like a baseball player.
‘I hate to admit it….’
But I had to admit it.
This inefficient play that Soo-ho was displaying, which I had so despised.
Was in fact perhaps the most ideal image of a professional that I had so desperately yearned for.
The strength drained from Casey’s clenched fist.
“…You absolutely must get on base at your next at-bat.”
Casey left only those words before returning to the Dugout first.
Behind his back, an invisible flame was burning fiercely.
Soo-ho let out a long breath and then smiled.
‘Thank goodness. We haven’t lost yet.’
Casey told me to get on base.
This wasn’t merely a message of encouragement.
A prodigious batter with no reason to envy anyone was expressing his trust in a mere failure, saying he would follow my lead.

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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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