The Genius Hitter Who Conquered America - Chapter 52

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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 52
Crack!
The left-handed pitcher’s fastball struck the catcher’s glove with a sound like tearing fabric.
The radar gun read 97 miles per hour—156 kilometers.
Though the Practice Field had no spectators, the Stands were packed with Scouts and Staff Members dispatched from various Baseball Clubs.
“Wow. Look at the movement on that ball. Jake Miller from the White Sox. He’s with Double-A Birmingham. This guy’s the real deal, isn’t he?”
A Caucasian Scout jotted notes in his notebook as he spoke to the person beside him.
“The White Sox definitely cherish this one. His ERA in Double-A this year is in the 2s. The fact they sent him here means they’re probably deciding whether to bring him straight to the Major Leagues next season.”
“With stuff like that, they could use him in the bullpen right now. The Team B guys can’t even touch him.”
Jake Miller, the Starting Pitcher for Team A.
Living up to his reputation as an elite prospect, he was displaying overwhelming pitching.
Through the first and second innings, facing six batters, he hadn’t allowed a single runner to reach base.
Among them were four strikeouts and two ground balls.
Score: 5 to 0.
Team A was dominating both the Mound and the Batter’s Box.
“This is way too one-sided. We’re heading for a mercy rule.”
Just as the Scouts were yawning and growing bored, the top of the third inning began.
The seventh batter for Team B.
Casey Meyer stepped into the Batter’s Box.
Mark and Soo-ho were preparing in the On-Deck Circle.
Only then did the Scouts murmur, glancing back and forth between their rosters and the players.
“Huh? Who are those guys? I’ve never seen them before.”
“Wait… they’re from the Quakes? That’s Low-A, right?”
“What? The Dodgers sent three Low-A players to the Arizona Fall League?”
The Scouts, looking puzzled, tapped their tablets to pull up the players’ statistics.
“Hmm. All three have solid numbers. Especially that seventh batter, Casey Meyer—he’s a first-round pick and his stats are dominating the league. And that ninth-place hitter, the Asian kid who joined late in the season, has insane numbers too.”
“Still, it’s just Low-A. You know how it is—guys who dominate down there can’t adapt to the breaking ball angles in the higher leagues and wash out.”
“True enough. They probably won’t be ready to compete here yet. They’re just here to gain some experience.”
Most of the assessments were skeptical.
Statistics from lower leagues were always inflated, after all.
But one middle-aged man standing with his arms crossed behind that group thought differently.
The man wearing a faded Dodgers Organization cap pulled low was Paul, an elite Scout under the Dodgers Organization.
The fact that the Dodgers sent three Low-A players here… there had to be a reason for it.
Paul understood the organization’s workings better than anyone.
The Dodgers had the deepest roster in the Major Leagues and overflowed with talent.
They sent Low-A players because they had no one else to send?
That made no sense.
There would be a truckload of prospects waiting in line for spots in High-A or Double-A.
Yet the Dodgers had deliberately allocated three precious Arizona Fall League slots.
And all three from the same team’s roster line.
‘I’m not entirely sure what the higher-ups are thinking….’
Not knowing was only natural.
A massive organization like the Dodgers maintains strict information control.
Especially when executing such an unconventional personnel decision.
Field Scouts are never given advance notice of the organization’s intentions.
The reason is clear.
If they knew the intention beforehand, the Scout’s eyes would unconsciously seek out only that aspect.
In that moment, objective evaluation transforms into a mere confirmation process—fitting answers to predetermined conclusions.
Therefore, the Dodgers Organization had essentially entrusted the Scouts with a blind test.
Don’t ask about background or reasons.
Report only the results—whether they possess the qualifications to survive in this jungle.
‘Which is precisely why I must observe even more coldly.’
To do so, Paul began his analysis in earnest.
Were they selected simply because they’re more skilled than Double-A and Triple-A players?
‘That can’t be it. If they wanted to verify skilled players, they would’ve sent the Triple-A immediate contributors.’
For the Dodgers, who must chase the World Series again next year, that would be the more pressing priority.
So then.
‘They were likely sent because they possess a new dimension absent from the Dodgers Farm.’
The Dodgers’ recent prospects were optimized for data-driven baseball.
So-called factory-produced elites, mostly.
Efficient, yet vulnerable to variables and prone to uniformity.
‘Truth be told, it’s not just the Dodgers—the entire Major League suffers from this—but among them, these two are mutations.’
The Major League is a battlefield.
You cannot win wars with model students alone.
Sometimes you need fighters who know how to brawl in the mud.
Perhaps Team Management saw that potential in them.
‘Of course, skill still takes priority over character. That’s modern baseball.’
Paul watched Casey intently as he stepped into the Batter’s Box.
The opposing pitcher was a Double-A ace-caliber thrower.
It would be fascinating to see whether Low-A audacity could prevail or shatter against the wall.
‘Show me. Show me why you’re here.’
In that instant, Casey’s eyes blazed with ferocity.
Like a predator stalking its prey.
* * *
Top of the third inning.
Seventh batter Casey Meyer stepped into the Batter’s Box.
His expression appeared impassive as always, but beneath his helmet, his eyes burned with savage intensity.
‘You dare underestimate me?’
The opposing pitcher’s contemptuous gaze.
Team A’s fielders in their relaxed defensive positions.
Everything grated on my nerves.
It was as if the pitcher was saying that a Low-A kid had no business being here.
‘Don’t get the wrong idea.’
Casey twirled the bat lightly and settled into his stance.
‘I simply joined the Professional Baseball ranks later than you because I’m younger.’
It would be a mistake to think I’m on a lower level.
This wasn’t mere stubbornness.
In fact, the Scouts’ evaluations of Casey were overwhelming.
His hitting technique alone was good enough to be called up to the Major League immediately.
That was the consensus.
Baseball history often produces such anomalies.
Players who don’t just advance through the Minor League—they devour it.
Super rookies who bombard the Major League before they turn twenty-one.
Casey Meyer was the chosen talent with the highest probability of continuing that lineage.
So Casey was confident.
No—he was certain.
And there was one more decisive reason why he had to be.
‘First pitch will be a fastball.’
It was Soo-ho’s advice.
Truth be told, it was something that could wound my pride.
Me—universally recognized as a top prospect.
Trusting the counsel of a Tryout Signee with lower evaluations and more years on him.
A player signed out of a Baseball Tryout, no less.
‘But…’
Fortunately, Casey was a player who could acknowledge his own shortcomings.
His hitting technique itself was Major League caliber, but everything else still fell short.
The ability to read the flow of a game.
The seasoned cunning to penetrate an opponent’s psychology.
The nuances of pitch counts.
These things couldn’t be filled by talent alone.
They belonged solely to the realm of experience and instinct.
But Soo-ho was different.
The Soo-ho I saw with the Quakes wielded magic I couldn’t even comprehend.
‘And every bit of it worked.’
He seemed to stand at the pinnacle of advantages I didn’t possess.
‘And pride doesn’t put food on the table.’
Casey’s goal was clear.
To climb to that lofty place—the Major League—as soon as possible.
For that, bending my pride was nothing.
Though I hadn’t thought this way before.
My perspective shifted during the championship series at the end of the season.
Scoring with my teammates rather than trying to solve everything alone felt far more efficient and comfortable.
Therefore, the most certain shortcut to success was right beside me.
‘It would be stupider not to use it.’
And this was my first at-bat.
I’d already taken my first at-bat of the league season earlier this year.
But on this stage, it was my first at-bat.
As Soo-ho had mentioned before the game, the result of the first at-bat in baseball was truly important.
No matter how much I’d worked the ball in practice.
Ultimately, my true condition would be revealed in this moment.
Whether the swing I’d refined and polished worked in actual play, whether my timing was right—all of it would be confirmed here for the first time.
How naturally my first swing in this first at-bat would come out.
That single sensation would set the rhythm for today.
And moreover, it would even determine my confidence for the entire season.
If I made solid contact, I’d gain confidence that my preparation was right; if anything went wrong, unease would linger in my mind about what else needed adjustment.
Soo-ho seemed to understand that part.
He’d explained this importance to us.
So the result of this season.
It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say it started from this first at-bat right now.
‘Here it comes.’
The Pitcher wound up.
There was no tension in the opponent’s expression.
The ball leaving his fingertips was a fastball down the middle, just as Soo-ho had said.
Whoosh!
Casey’s upper body rotated smoothly, his fluttering uniform creating friction.
That swing wasn’t like Mark’s—one that forced power.
It didn’t feel like pulling or pushing.
But that was because it was a swing of ‘feel’ rather than force.
Not a deliberately manufactured technique, but something only someone who naturally hit that way could do.
It was the quintessential genius-type batting—meticulous as craftsmanship, yet explosive at the point of contact.
And the result was nothing short of violent.
Boom!
Crack!
A crisp, clean sound of impact.
The ball pierced past the Shortstop before he could even react.
“…Huh?”
Before the Pitcher could even turn his head, the ball was already rolling toward the Left Fielder.
It was the result of a flawless swing without a single wasted motion.
Casey tossed his bat aside and sprinted toward First Base.
His gaze, as he touched the base, turned toward the Pitcher on the Mound.
It was as if he were declaring that this was true class.
Casey bumped fists lightly with the First Base Coach and switched into his base-running gloves.
Team B’s counterattack was just beginning.
* * *
From the On-Deck Circle, Mark watched the entire sequence unfold and let out a low whistle.
‘This is absolutely insane.’
Casey was, no matter what anyone said, still a Low-A prospect.
Yet he had just produced an impossibly clean hit against a top-tier pitcher currently putting up dominant numbers even in Double-A.
‘Usually, higher-level pitchers have such overwhelming velocity that lower-league batters get jammed even when they time it right.’
It meant that matching power with power would only result in failure.
But Casey acted as though velocity didn’t concern him in the slightest.
He had crafted that hit through pure technique alone.
If he’d tried to match power, he would have been overpowered, but instead, he’d dominated through skill.
But what was truly astounding was something else entirely.
‘Without Soo-ho, Casey would have struggled this at-bat too.’
The pitcher’s momentum had been far too strong from the start.
Without Soo-ho’s guidance, Casey might have fallen for a bait pitch or lost the count battle.
But Casey had delivered, and now it was his turn.
Mark walked toward the Batter’s Box.
‘I know this level is incomparably higher than Low-A.’
One look at the pitcher on the Mound made it impossible not to recognize how formidable he was.
‘Yet strangely, I’m not nervous at all.’
The reason was clear.
They had a magician on their side.
Soo-ho was a fundamentally different type—one that didn’t exist in the Major League Farm System.
The opposite of this place’s approach of crushing opponents with data and physicality.
Baseball that penetrates the mind and exploits openings.
‘So no matter how elite and higher-level an opponent is, they can only fall victim to magic they’re encountering for the first time.’
Mark decided to believe this fact with absolute certainty.
And before stepping into the box.
While locking eyes with the pitcher in front of the Batter’s Box, he swung his bat dramatically and deliberately.
Whoosh!
A heavy, explosive sound as if a typhoon were bearing down.
The pitcher’s expression twisted in an instant.
It couldn’t have been otherwise.
His mental state had been slightly shaken after just getting hit by an unexpected ambush—Casey—and now his confidence wavered.
Yet the swing of the next batter, whom he’d dismissed as Low-A, was threatening enough to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the power hitters of Double-A.
‘If he connects cleanly on that, it’s gone.’
Fear made the pitcher’s fingers stiffen.
First pitch: Ball.
The second pitch was also a ball.
The Pitcher threw the ball only to places where Mark’s bat couldn’t reach.
Count 2-0.
Mark’s facial muscles twitched.
‘This time, he’s definitely coming in with a strike.’
I could be certain of it.
A walk against a Low-A batter?
For a higher-level Pitcher, that was more humiliating than giving up a hit.
It was the fastest way to tank his scout evaluations.
‘But he won’t come in easy either.’
That was fine.
Thanks to Soo-ho, the count was heavily in my favor.
Now I could afford to be selective.
‘The opponent has both velocity and movement.’
But right now, he was down 2-0.
This was the moment he’d have to focus on control.
‘Even if he sacrifices some velocity and movement, he’ll try to jam a strike into the corner no matter what.’
Hah. Easy.
The count battle was unfolding this simply.
Big stage or whatever—baseball was just easy.
Regardless, my task was clear.
‘Just make contact and put it in play.’
No need for a big swing.
I already had plenty of power.
The Pitcher entered his delivery.
Just as expected—a fastball on the outside corner, full and tight.
With reduced velocity and movement, the pitch wasn’t much different from what I’d seen in Low-A.
Crack!
Mark didn’t get greedy and simply pushed it through with a short, compact swing.
The crisp contact sent the ball dropping in front of the Right Fielder.
One out, runners on First Base and Second Base.
As Mark stepped on First Base, he clenched his fist toward Soo-ho in the Dugout.
Casey too, and himself.
‘Everything went exactly as you planned.’
So.
‘Now it’s your turn to show what you’ve got.’
Mark and Casey’s gazes locked onto Soo-ho as he walked out of the On-Deck Circle.
This magical period mark was for the one who had cast this spell to place.

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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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