The Genius Hitter Who Conquered America - Chapter 51

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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 51
Thirty-eight players from five different baseball clubs stood in formation on the ground.
The Los Angeles Dodgers, White Sox, Red Sox, Twins, and Padres.
The eyes of these promising young athletes in their different uniforms all converged on a single man standing on the platform.
His hair was silver-white, but the gaze behind his sunglasses was sharp and piercing—a seasoned veteran.
It was Harry Miller, the manager who held the baton for the Glendale Desert Dogs.
“Thirty-eight. Everyone’s here.”
Harry nodded with satisfaction.
Without a microphone, his voice rang out with commanding resonance that dominated the entire gathering.
“Welcome. I’m Harry Miller. I won’t waste time with long speeches. Our goal is simple.”
Harry swept his gaze slowly across the players as he continued.
“I hope you all remain injury-free and fill in the gaps in your skills here so you can advance to the next level.”
It was an utterly textbook address.
After all, this was the official founding purpose of the Arizona Fall League.
A graduate school for promising prospects.
An educational arena that focused on growth over wins and losses, providing every player with opportunities.
But internally, Harry scoffed.
‘Equal opportunities for everyone? That’s a joke.’
Look at the eyes of the players standing here right now.
They appear composed on the surface, but deep down they’re desperate for just one more at-bat.
One more inning of playing time.
Because making an impression here meant earning an invitation to next year’s Spring Training or a promotion to a higher league.
‘And ultimately, stepping foot on the dream stage that is the Major League.’
Each of them had far too much at stake.
Equal playing time divided among everyone in this cutthroat battlefield?
That wasn’t fairness—it was deception.
‘The ones who perform well get more time, and the ones who struggle warm the bench.’
That was what Harry considered true fairness.
Giving more opportunities to those who proved themselves through performance was the absolute law of the professional world.
‘Of course, each organization would prefer that we protect the players.’
If anything, overworking a player would draw criticism from the front office.
They’d ask if I’d take responsibility if a player got injured.
So sometimes they even limited the number of games.
‘Though I understand the organization’s position too.’
If a carefully developed prospect got hurt here, the loss would be substantial.
‘But if a body breaks down from something other than an unavoidable accident—just from playing a few more weeks—then they had no business being a Major Leaguer in the first place.’
Besides, Minor Leaguers played fewer games than Major Leaguers anyway.
And they’d come here well-rested, so there was nothing to worry about.
Above all, my own career was on the line here too.
‘I didn’t come here to do charity work.’
The Arizona Fall League managerial position was far more than simply babysitting promising prospects.
Farm Directors and Field Coordinators from thirty baseball clubs watched every game with the eyes of hawks.
Their evaluation extended beyond the players alone.
Harry himself, as the Manager, was being evaluated.
‘My reputation is on the line.’
That manager sure knows how to develop strong-willed prospects.
Players sent to that team seem to unlock their potential.
If such evaluations accumulated, Harry could receive offers to manage Major League teams under better conditions.
Or he could enter as part of a coaching staff.
In other words, this place was a proving ground for him to demonstrate how well he could draw out player development and explosive performance, rather than just team records.
So Harry needed genuine talent.
Players with insane abilities who could decorate his career with medals of honor.
‘So the ones who perform well get more opportunities. The ones who struggle warm the bench.’
Harry intended to uphold his own definition of ‘fairness.’
Was it only him?
The other Arizona Fall League managers would think the same way.
‘Let’s see who becomes the rope that pulls me up to the big leagues.’
Harry swept his gaze across the thirty-eight pieces of prey before him, wearing an ostensibly benevolent smile.
“No need for long speeches. Let’s start with some physical communication, shall we?”
Harry’s eyes gleamed.
“Starting now, we begin the scrimmage. Team A and Team B—check your rosters and move to your positions immediately!”
* * *
“Dismissed! You have ten minutes to prepare, so get ready!”
With the Manager’s whistle, the players dispersed.
Soo-ho, Mark, and Casey headed to the Third Base Side Dugout of Team B as assigned.
But the moment they entered the dugout, the atmosphere felt distinctly off.
“Damn it. I can’t figure out what the coaching staff was thinking.”
Players gathering their equipment hurled their gloves to the ground in frustration.
“Why did they divide the scrimmage teams like this?”
The expressions of the other players were equally sour.
Their gazes naturally fixed on Soo-ho’s group, who had joined last.
It was as if they were saying:
‘Who are these rookies?’
‘What a pain—stuck on a team with Low-A kids.’
Their eyes carried blatant contempt and irritation.
But that gaze soon shifted in the opposite direction.
Toward the First Base Dugout of Team A.
And in that moment, their eyes changed subtly.
‘…They’re envious.’
Soo-ho, with his exceptional intuition, caught it immediately.
They weren’t simply upset because the team balance was off.
To put it differently.
They believed they belonged over there on Team A.
It was the sting of being pushed down to Team B instead.
‘This just means Team B has gathered less famous players.’
I quickly scanned both teams’ rosters.
Team A on the First Base side.
Led by Liam, who’d started the earlier confrontation, the remaining players carried themselves with an unmistakable presence.
Most were core prospects who’d been starters in Double-A or Triple-A.
Elite players the organization had already marked as future Major Leaguers.
‘Then this Team B is….’
It was clearly a collection of players inferior to that Team A.
They’d even bundled three Low-A players onto one team.
‘It’s obvious.’
The Manager’s intention was transparent.
Team A was the lead.
Team B was the supporting cast. Mere extras.
Therefore, this exhibition game wasn’t fair competition.
It was arranged so Team A’s monsters could fully display their abilities.
A setup that amounted to nothing more than exhibition baseball.
So it was no wonder the players on Team B were venting their frustrations.
They’d been treated as Minor League from the start.
‘They threw us in as prey. That’s it, right?’
A smile tugged at my lips.
I should’ve been upset, but I wasn’t at all.
I acknowledged they were superior.
In a world where skill is everything, how could a better player be equal to a lesser one?
‘I hate that too.’
But being an extra didn’t mean there were only downsides.
I called Mark and Casey over.
“You figured it out, right?”
Mark let out a sigh.
“Yeah. There’s no way not to. This is infuriating.”
Casey chimed in as well.
“Like we’re some kind of idiots to them.”
Mark and I were momentarily startled.
It was the first time we’d heard such harsh language from him.
Of course, this was the kind of pride any baseball player should possess.
Especially for a top-tier prospect like Casey.
I let out a quiet laugh.
‘As expected. Casey is genuinely passionate about baseball.’
That was fortunate.
Because Soo-ho wanted to ignite their competitive spirit.
They were already burning with intensity, so all he needed to do was add a little fuel to make their gains far more tangible.
Soo-ho smiled faintly first.
It was to ease, even slightly, the sense of deprivation they would feel.
“Being a supporting player isn’t necessarily a bad thing.”
“What?”
“Look at it objectively. They’re Double-A and Triple-A starters. We have to admit their skill is superior to ours. If we felt cheated, we should have claimed those spots ourselves, but we didn’t, right?”
It was a painful truth.
Mark pouted his lips but couldn’t refute it.
“But because we’re divided this way, what we stand to gain is far clearer.”
Soo-ho gestured with his chin toward Liam, who was laughing in the First Base Dugout.
“First. We should be grateful to Liam.”
“What? Are you insane? Be grateful to that annoying guy?”
Mark jumped up, but Soo-ho continued calmly.
“Thanks to Liam spreading the word around, all the Team A players facing us now know we’re from Low-A. So ask yourself: will those elites really go all out against us?”
“…No.”
Casey answered first.
Would proud upper-league pitchers throw with all their might against lower-league batters?
They’d consider it a waste and an affront to their pride.
They’d think they could get us out even half-trying, so they’d use it as a chance to work on their control.
“Exactly. Their carelessness. That’s our first weapon.”
Soo-ho raised his index finger and extended his middle finger.
“And second. The Manager, the Coach, even our own teammates—everyone thinks they have an overwhelming advantage. What happens when we deliver a strong performance in that situation?”
“…It flips.”
“It’s more than just flipping. Unexpectedness. That’s the weapon that embeds itself most powerfully in people’s minds. A single moment of brilliance when expectations are rock bottom is worth ten times more than usual.”
Soo-ho’s eyes gleamed.
Crisis is opportunity.
We could turn this situation into the perfect stage for a reversal drama.
“By the way. Want to hear my strategy? It’s our season’s ‘first at-bat,’ after all.”
Mark and Casey’s eyes lit up, then they nodded briefly.
Soo-ho continued.
“Casey’s batting seventh, Mark’s eighth, and I’m ninth, right?”
The bottom of the order.
This too was an obviously dismissive batting arrangement.
“Casey. Can you get on base? A hit or a walk, doesn’t matter. I’m not a pitcher, but if I were, I’d definitely come at you straight. Running from Low-A trash would be shameful—that contempt is built into their foundation.”
Casey gripped his bat with grim determination.
“Don’t worry. I can hit that kind of pitch with my eyes closed.”
The fighting spirit of a wounded genius was burning bright.
“Alright. Once Casey gets on base, Mark, they’ll think the pitcher has let his guard down and he’ll tighten up. That’s when you step into the batter’s box and show them a few big swings before you bat.”
“Big swings?”
“Yeah. Flaunt that power you’ve got—the kind that works even in the Major League. Make them realize that one wrong move and they’re done for. Once the pitcher realizes Casey got on base, he’ll definitely try to get ahead with a fastball on the first pitch. If you hold back and work the count in your favor, the rest is up to you.”
“Roger that. Message received.”
Mark grinned widely.
He had the experience of a cleanup hitter.
There was no way he’d miss a pitch coming in on a favorable count.
“So what about you, Soo-ho? Don’t tell me you’re bunting again?”
My eyes narrowed.
“Who knows? We’ll see how it goes.”
I didn’t bother saying that it felt like the time had come to move forward.
But Casey and Mark nodded as if they understood.
My judgment calls were unmatched within the Quakes.
If I had a plan, now was the time to trust me with it.

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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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