The Genius Hitter Who Conquered America - Chapter 56

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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 56
The next morning. The second day of the Arizona Fall League.
Soo-ho returned to the Dormitory as always, cutting through the dawn air.
Normally he would have dragged his sluggish body inside, but today his steps were light.
‘My condition feels unusually good today.’
*Click.*
As I opened the door and stepped inside, an unexpected sight greeted me in the Living Room.
Casey and Mark were already awake. And looking remarkably fresh.
“You’re up already?”
“Yeah. My eyes just opened on their own.”
Mark stretched and chuckled.
It was thanks to the quality of the bed that sleep quality had improved so dramatically.
No creaking spring sounds, no noise bleeding through thin walls—even just a few hours of sleep left me feeling refreshed and recharged.
‘I slept well today too.’
Until now, everything about sleeping in America had been uncomfortable, starting with the unfamiliar environment.
After washing up, I headed to the Kitchen.
“You’re going to eat, right?”
Breakfast here was self-service.
The three of us had decided last night through rock-paper-scissors to take turns cooking duty each day.
While nothing fancy, we were all comfortable enough heating frozen food or preparing cereal, so that’s what we agreed on.
Fending for yourself during Minor League Baseball life was pure survival instinct.
Today’s first shift was mine.
But then.
“No way. I’m passing.”
“Me too.”
Both shook their heads simultaneously.
When I looked at them questioningly, Mark rubbed his stomach and added,
“I need to save some space for lunch.”
I burst out laughing at that.
‘These guys… they’re really looking forward to it.’
The Baseball Club had announced they’d provide lunch.
Given the quality of the Dormitory, their calculation was probably that the food would be even better.
Their eyes sparkled like children starving themselves the day before going to a buffet.
After completing their morning routines, players gradually gathered at the Cafeteria.
We too opened the Restaurant door with great anticipation.
The sight before us fell somewhat short of the hotel-style buffet we’d imagined.
The food arranged on simple tables was more modest than expected.
It wasn’t a lavish Major League banquet.
It was meticulously designed from a nutritional standpoint.
But it was closer to athlete meal service that prioritized efficiency over taste.
Dry-looking grilled chicken breast and boiled eggs.
Whole wheat pasta with barely any seasoning and brown rice.
Steamed broccoli, asparagus, carrots, and other vegetables.
And for dessert, there were only a few slices of apple, banana, and orange.
“What is this? The same stuff we always eat.”
“Don’t tell me this is all there is?”
Murmurs of complaint drifted from those around us.
The players who had come from Double-A and Triple-A picked up their trays with furrowed brows.
They said the treatment for top Minor League players had improved considerably these days.
But it seemed hardly different from what they’d known before.
With expectations running so high, this bland meal could only be disappointing.
But Soo-ho, Casey, and Mark wore different expressions.
“Wow….”
The three of them’s eyes sparkled.
To their eyes, this dining table looked like a feast fit for royalty.
Think back to the Low-A days.
Most days were spent chewing down cold, congealed hamburgers on the away game bus, or quieting hunger with a single soggy slice of pizza.
It had been routine to scrape peanut butter between bread slices just to save money.
But this place was different.
“It’s warm.”
I marveled as I picked up the chicken breast with steam still rising from it.
Freshly grilled meat and crisp vegetables.
Most of all, there was an abundance of protein piled before me—as much as I could possibly want.
“Hey, the pasta isn’t soggy.”
“The fruit is fresh too.”
Mark and Casey busily filled their plates.
While others grumbled and picked at their food.
The three of us emptied our plates like starving hyenas, yet with expressions of pure bliss.
‘This is heaven.’
I thought to myself, my mouth full of chicken breast.
This is what relative happiness truly means.
What is disappointing to some becomes the greatest reward for those who have clawed their way up from the bottom.
‘That’s why a person has to climb higher.’
Just like yesterday, today I was realizing the difference in treatment.
If I could only make it up to Double-A and Triple-A?
It would mean healthy meals provided free, just like this, all the time.
For a baseball player, food is inseparable from the game.
It was no exaggeration to say that performance fluctuates depending on what and how you eat.
As my stomach filled, tension began creeping back in.
Now that I’d eaten, it was time to earn my keep.
‘Coordinator meeting.’
Soo-ho took a sip of water and glanced sideways at the schedule posted on one wall of the Restaurant.
‘Mine’s at 5 p.m.’
Soo-ho, Mark, and Casey had all been scheduled for meetings at the very last time slot.
With the game starting at 6 p.m. today, he sensed it might be tight.
‘But there are so many people. It can’t be helped.’
It was unthinkable for a lower-league player to expect the treatment afforded to upper-league players.
Besides, being the optimist he was, Soo-ho actually found satisfaction in being last.
‘Going into the meeting, I’ll have more time to organize what I want to say.’
Since I’d been given more time than others.
I’d prepare more thoroughly and impressively.
Only then could I experience the benefits I’m currently receiving one day sooner.
This was my thinking.
So.
“You done eating? Should we talk about something?”
Mark asked.
“Talk about what?”
“The meeting. Preparing for it.”
“Is there anything to prepare for?”
Mark was right.
It was a place to receive assignments, not really a discussion.
Casey also wore an expression suggesting they’d just listen and come back—that was all there was to it.
But Soo-ho’s thinking was different.
If he’d only planned to listen and leave, he wouldn’t have asked to carve out time from their meal.
“I need your help a bit.”
It wasn’t simply seeking advice.
I had no intention of turning this meeting into a place where I merely received one-sided directives.
‘Unlike Casey or Mark, I’m pressed for time. I need to find a way to survive.’
My opponent is a Coordinator armed with thorough data and logic.
To persuade him and draw him onto my pace, I needed a decisive weapon.
Wasn’t it said that knowing yourself and knowing your enemy guarantees victory in a hundred battles?
‘First, I need an objective perspective on myself.’
Conveniently, I had the perfect advisors right beside me.
These two geniuses whose eyes for baseball rivaled even Major League Scouts.
I was ready to borrow their vision and dissect myself perfectly.
* * *
The three of them left the Restaurant and settled in the shade of a large tree at the Rear of Training Grounds, where few people ventured.
A cool breeze drifted through the area.
“So what do you want to talk about?”
At Mark’s question, Soo-ho stood before the two seated on the Grass Field.
His expression was solemn, like someone preparing for a presentation.
“First, I’d like you to tell me about my weaknesses. Or rather… what you think the Coordinator would point out as areas I need to improve?”
“Well…”
Mark chuckled and rested his chin on his hand.
“It’s obvious. Besides the usual advice about raising my launch angle, is there anything else?”
Casey, standing beside him, chimed in.
“I don’t think there’s anything beyond that either.”
Their assessment was cold and objective.
My defensive range or base-running instincts?
Those don’t fall short compared to higher-level players at all.
In fact, they’re top-tier.
But hitting is different.
Yesterday, I did record a three-run triple.
But that was just one lucky swing.
Was I the kind of batter who consistently cranked out power hits like that?
Absolutely not.
I nodded and pressed deeper with another question.
“Be more specific. What logic would they use, and what exactly would they tell me to improve?”
At that, Mark and Casey’s eyes changed.
No longer the playful gaze of friends—they scrutinized me with the sharp, analytical eyes of players who truly understood baseball.
Despite being in Low-A, these two had remarkably keen baseball instincts.
Mark spoke first.
“If I were the Coordinator, I’d tell you this: Wake up from your dream.”
“Wake up from my dream?”
“That upper swing you showed yesterday? It looked great. But that’s not you. Let’s be honest—you don’t have the physical build that Casey and I have.”
Mark tapped his own thick forearm.
Casey didn’t have quite Mark’s physical prowess either.
To be precise, he fell somewhere between Mark and me.
At 6’1″ and 198 pounds, he had a solid athletic frame for a baseball player.
“An upper swing is fundamentally about lifting the ball. But when someone with your slight build lifts it? The odds are high it becomes a fly ball caught in front of the Warning Track, not clearing the fence. Yesterday, you got lucky hitting it square, and that’s why it became a triple.”
“…That’s accurate.”
“So the Coordinator would instruct you like this: Don’t lift the ball like you did yesterday. Use a level swing, but aim for line drives rather than ground balls—use your speed to your advantage.”
Mark’s analysis was sharp.
Casey then picked up the thread, diving in from a more data-driven perspective.
“Consistency and on-base percentage.”
Casey stated it plainly.
“They’ll want to develop you as a table-setter—a current number nine hitter. Not a home run hitter, but a player who gets on base however possible and sets up your strong one and two hitters.”
Modern Major League Baseball places its best hitters in the one and two spots.
“…”
“For that, what matters isn’t slugging percentage—it’s on-base percentage. They’ll hate seeing you strike out swinging for the fences. There’s a 99% chance they’ll want you focusing on contact, just putting the ball in play consistently.”
Soo-ho nodded, his arms crossed.
There was no refuting it.
My current physical condition, the data accumulated so far, and general baseball common sense.
Everything pointed in one direction.
‘The safe path.’
Don’t be greedy—become a contact hitter.
That’s the only way to survive in this jungle.
The Coordinators would certainly say that.
“Thanks. That really clears things up.”
A peculiar smile spread across Soo-ho’s lips.
The expected answer sheet was complete.
Now all that remained was deciding how to tear it to shreds.
The reason was simple.
I already knew what Mark and Casey were advising.
With my current physical condition, it’s impossible to consistently hit the kind of power shots the Major League desires.
If I’d bulked up beforehand, things would be different.
‘But I haven’t bulked up.’
In fact, there wasn’t even time for that.
Only two and a half months have passed since I joined Low-A.
Back then, I was too busy just getting my footing.
‘But I can’t abandon my strength.’
I possessed innate power.
However, exactly how much of that innate power I had.
How exceptional it truly was—that had never actually been proven.
There was no point of comparison.
But it didn’t matter.
I knew myself very well.
‘At least this mechanism I’ve mastered… it’s a late-bloomer type.’
Right now, with my scrawny frame, its effectiveness might be diminished.
But what if my body fills out later, and professional-grade strength is added on top of it?
This mechanism would be capable of producing not just doubles, but sending the ball soaring over the fence—the technique of a true power hitter.
Of course, that might be a distant future scenario.
But I wanted to accelerate that future.
‘I want to ingrain it in my body beforehand.’
Of course, my current playing style.
That is, being a contact hitter with speed and good bat control—there’s nothing wrong with that.
In fact, this type has rarity value.
Modern baseball favors home run swings so much.
‘Conversely, this old-school type might exploit a niche market and get called up even faster.’
Just as Mark and Casey said, it might be the quickest shortcut.
But.
‘Isn’t it better to excel at both things?’
Soo-ho’s thinking was straightforward and clear.
A player who’s just quick on his feet, solid defensively, and makes good contact?
That’s good. But a player who also possesses power hitting?
That transcends being merely good—that becomes irreplaceable.
Naturally, the doors to higher leagues would open wider, and ultimately, the gates of the Major League would swing far more open.
‘I know. It won’t be easy.’
There was no coincidence that Mark and Casey had offered identical advice, as if rehearsed.
Chasing two rabbits at once was a gamble that could cost him both.
But he had to try.
His dreams had grown larger.
He had committed himself to becoming a Major Leaguer.
If that was his resolve, there was only one path forward.
‘I’ll work harder than ever before—hard enough to cough up blood.’
And effort was Soo-ho’s specialty.
‘My goal is to become a player who can hit for power. No—at least show the potential for it.’
Even if I can’t clear the fence like everyone else on every at-bat.
I wanted to demonstrate that potential unmistakably.
The Arizona Fall League emphasizes a player’s growth trajectory over immediate results.
Then the way to stand out was to seize the unexpected—what everyone else deemed impossible.
‘There’s no appeal more convincing than that, is there?’
The strategy was set.
Soo-ho clenched his fists tight.
The essence of this meeting wasn’t to follow the safe guidelines the Coordinator would demand.
‘I’m going to declare that I’ll shatter the ceiling they’ve set for me.’
And before long, it was 5 p.m.
“Soo-ho. Your meeting is ready.”
Soo-ho was called in for his meeting.

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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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