The Genius Hitter Who Conquered America - Chapter 61

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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 61
When Soo-ho declared he would narrow his strike zone, Casey nodded with a noticeably more relaxed expression.
First, I had to acknowledge what deserved acknowledgment.
Soo-ho was a genius too.
He was the type who grasped ten principles from learning one.
‘So if I teach him, he’ll definitely be able to achieve what he wants.’
But baseball wasn’t something you played with your head alone.
No matter how talented someone was, they absolutely needed time to apply unfamiliar techniques in actual games.
‘Especially when our opponents are higher-tier players than us.’
Their pitches were heavy and fast.
Rushing in with half-baked technique could ruin your form entirely and leave you caught between two stools.
Which meant….
‘Theory is meaningless.’
Explaining biomechanics right now, rotation axes, all that—it would just be wasting time.
What Soo-ho needed was a sense that his body could respond to immediately.
That intuitive image was what mattered.
Casey narrowed his eyes.
How had he swung back then?
He traced back through his memories.
* * *
Seven-year-old Casey had been unusually small.
His frame was so slight he’d dragged a bat as tall as himself around.
His blonde hair was damp with sweat, and his knees were caked with dirt.
That Casey stepped into the batter’s box.
On the other side of the mound—or rather, the dirt ground of the vacant lot—neighborhood kids stood snickering.
“Hey, squirt. Can you even hold a bat?”
“Come on, go easy on him. He’s gonna cry.”
They were middle schoolers.
The one built like a mountain chewed gum loudly and grinned mischievously.
“Cry? Who’s crying! Just pitch it!”
Little Casey shrieked defiantly.
Whether they found it cute or impudent, their eyes narrowed.
“Alright then. No whining after this.”
Whoosh!
The ball left his hand.
It was terrifyingly fast.
To a seven-year-old, it was practically a cannonball.
His fern-like hands gripping the bat trembled visibly.
At first, he charged in out of sheer stubbornness.
‘I’m a man too. I won’t lose.’
With that resolve, I squeezed my eyes shut and swung the bat with all my might.
Crack!
‘Ugh.’
The result was devastating.
The bat gave way weakly against the ball, leaving only a stinging vibration that felt like my palms were tearing apart.
“Ahahaha! Hey, your hand okay?”
“I told you to go home.”
My older brothers’ mocking laughter rang in my ears.
When raw strength collides with raw strength, naturally the weaker side gets crushed.
Casey trudged home, cradling my swollen hands.
I was furious.
Sleep wouldn’t come.
‘How can I win?’
How could I possibly hit away the balls thrown by those monster-like older brothers?
Build up strength?
No, even if I ate more, I couldn’t grow as big as my brothers overnight.
It would take time.
So was there no way…
The next day, as I sat on the swing at the playground sighing heavily, something caught my eye.
“Huh?”
It was an old revolving door near the park.
Friends were playing tag, sprinting full-force into the revolving door.
When the door stayed still, the friend who hit it would hurt, and the door would rattle.
“Got you!”
But what if I spun the door at just the right moment when my friend came running?
My friend would fly out to the opposite side at that same speed, amplified even further by centrifugal force.
‘…That’s it.’
Young Casey jumped to my feet.
It was like lightning struck inside my head.
‘I don’t need to use force.’
The balls my brothers throw are already fast.
In other words, the incoming ball already carries full energy.
So instead of opposing that force, what if I just changed its direction?
The next afternoon.
I stepped up to the batter’s box again.
“Back again? I’ll give you credit for persistence.”
My brothers were still brimming with confidence.
With their wind-up, the same blazing fastball came flying in as yesterday.
But this time was different.
Standing in the batter’s box, I relaxed my body.
I abandoned the usual thought of smashing the ball with brute force.
Instead, I gently rotated my body at the ball’s path, as if opening a door.
‘Now. Turn!’
Crack!
A crisp, sharp sound.
Unlike yesterday, there was no shock transmitted through my hands.
Instead, I felt something heavy catch at the end of the bat.
This meant I had made solid contact.
Shatter!
The ball soared impossibly far, clearing the Vacant Lot and smashing through the neighbor’s window.
“…Huh?”
My brother stood there with his mouth agape, while the others scattered in panic at the sound of breaking glass.
Casey’s memory ended there.
* * *
Awakening from the recollection, Casey gazed down at his palms.
The sensation from that swing back then still lingered vividly.
His eyes sparkled.
“That’s it.”
No need for complicated explanations.
A genius like Soo-ho would be more than capable of taking down monsters with just this feeling alone.
“Relax. Completely.”
At those words, Soo-ho and Mark exchanged puzzled glances.
Relax completely?
Was he saying not to swing at all?
Then Casey continued with his still-cryptic instruction.
“You are the revolving door itself.”
Mark muttered under his breath.
“A revolving door? What nonsense is that? And how are you supposed to drive the ball without putting in any power? If that worked, everyone would be a home run king.”
Casey pressed on, undeterred.
“Most batters instinctively tense up at the plate. They need to grip the bat with all their might, as if they’re tearing the ball apart or launching it over the Fence—that’s what satisfies them.”
Finally, something comprehensible emerged.
Soo-ho and Mark nodded in agreement.
Casey continued his explanation.
“They believe that’s how the ball travels far. But you don’t need to do that anymore. Because your mechanism uses full-body rotation.”
So listen.
“Soo-ho, you’re already a perfectly functioning revolving door. Does a well-oiled door need to forcefully push away the person entering?”
Soo-ho nodded, understanding.
“No—it would only get in the way.”
Casey murmured softly into the empty air.
As if offering guidance to Soo-ho standing right before him.
“Yeah. So you can ease up on the power. You already decided to abandon the high fastballs and pitches that demand brute strength, right? So you’ll have plenty of power to spare. Focus more on precision.”
If the opponent came at him with a hundred-mile-per-hour fastball.
I could simply use that force against him.
No need for forced power.
Just let it flow. As naturally as possible.
“The way it always was.”
A deep smile crossed Casey’s lips.
My jaw dropped in surprise.
I couldn’t help it.
‘That makes sense.’
I quickly assessed my own body.
To be honest, my current physique was incomplete.
Of course, the raw power latent within me was real, but my body still couldn’t fully withstand its output.
‘Maybe later. But not now.’
I needed results immediately.
If I tried to fill the power gap by obsessing over weight training right now?
I could bulk up by lifting all day long.
My muscles would grow.
But the price would be steep.
‘I wouldn’t be able to use that power at the plate.’
A body drained from overtraining couldn’t swing the bat properly.
My game sense would dull, my balance would collapse.
I’d become a scarecrow with a nice physique, striking out left and right.
‘That would be stupid.’
What I needed now was the efficiency to maximize the resources I already had.
‘So Casey’s right.’
A vast library of baseball theory I’d accumulated over the years flashed through my mind.
Videos of legendary hitters, the fundamentals of batting mechanics I’d analyzed countless times.
All that data pointed to a single conclusion.
‘Bigger muscles don’t mean the ball travels farther.’
In fact, among the home run hitters who went down in history, plenty of them had lean frames yet still cleared the fence with ease.
They shared one thing in common.
Perfect rotation axis. And the softness to hold back power until the moment of impact.
A flexible whip generates more terrifying speed at the end than a rigid steel rod.
‘Rotational force…’
Right.
I shouldn’t be hitting with power—I should be flicking it with rotational force.
I finally met Casey’s eyes with unwavering conviction.
“Casey. Thank you so much. Because of you, I finally know how to move forward.”
Casey shrugged.
As if this were nothing at all.
A genius like me would naturally possess this level of knowledge. That’s what the expression conveyed.
But internally, that wasn’t the case.
‘Phew… I broke a sweat there.’
Teaching someone else was harder than I thought.
That’s what Casey concluded.
But when I really thought about it, I hadn’t just been teaching.
‘That’s right. I’d forgotten too…’
Why had I forgotten this?
This crucial sensation that had brought me this far.
‘So I’m grateful too.’
Casey began to feel confident that he could display even better hitting from today onward.
He was already good.
But it meant he could be even better.
However, I didn’t voice this aloud.
My pride… had been hurt.
I’d decided to repay the debt I owed.
So I chose to teach Soo-ho, yet I was gaining something myself.
No. Perhaps this time, what I gained was even greater.
‘I don’t need to try hitting pitches I can’t hit.’
Just go after the ones I want.
That would be the path to better results.
Casey also wanted to be invited to Spring Training with even better statistics.
But among those who’d gained this insight, there was one who felt distinctly left out.
Mark.
‘Hey! You damn geniuses!’
Tell me too…
Don’t shut me out just because my brain is filled with muscle…
* * *
The atmosphere in the Locker Room was unusual before the game.
A single sheet of paper with the starting lineup posted on the whiteboard was the spark.
1. Oh Soo-ho. CF.
2. Casey Meyer. 3B.
3. Mark Williams. 1B.
4. Liam Henricks. DH.
.
.
.
“Are you joking right now?”
The Director’s Office door swung open roughly.
It was Liam.
He huffed indignantly and planted his fist on the Manager’s desk.
“You’re putting those blood clots in front of me?”
Liam’s finger jabbed at the paper with the lineup written on it.
Spots one through three.
All rookies or no-name Asian players.
His anger was justified.
“Didn’t you see yesterday’s game? I went two-for-two. I’m hot right now!”
Liam was starving.
The fourth batter’s virtue is RBIs.
You drive in runners and score points—that’s how your value rises.
But the top of the lineup who should be setting the table for me? Look at them.
Striking out is all I can expect from these greenhorns, and you want me to bat behind them?
“I need every RBI I can get, and now you’re benching me?”
“Benching.”
Manager Harry flipped through the chart indifferently and adjusted his glasses.
At that dry response, Liam’s eyebrows twitched.
“This is blatant discrimination. You’re trying to break my momentum, and that’s all there is to it.”
“Liam.”
The Manager cut him off sharply.
Then he lifted his head and stared directly at Liam.
There was no emotion in those eyes.
Only the mechanical coldness of analyzing data.
“Well. I haven’t found a single thing that makes you better than those three.”
“…What?”
Liam doubted his ears for a moment.
What did he just say?
I’m not better than those rolling stones that stumbled in here?
“Power, contact, eye for pitches? I don’t know. I don’t see a single metric where you’re superior to them yet.”
“Ha…!”
Liam let out a hollow laugh.
This was the worst insult a baseball player could receive.
“If you’re trying to provoke me by scratching my pride, congratulations. You’ve succeeded.”
Crunch.
Liam ground his teeth so hard they creaked.
The veins in his neck bulged prominently.
“I’ll show you on the field just how wrong your eyes are, Manager.”
Slam!
Liam kicked the door open and stormed out.
Watching his departing figure, Manager Harry let out a soft, amused chuckle.
‘If they can show me what they’re capable of, I’d be grateful.’
After all, it would only raise my reputation.
‘But can they really pull it off?’
Who knows.
I’ll have to wait and see.
At least in Manager Harry’s eyes, those three from Low-A are.
On par with Liam. Or perhaps even better.
It was that trio who had contributed the most to the team’s scoring so far.
‘For now, anyway.’
We’ve only played one game and are about to face the second.
So evaluations could flip at any moment.
‘But. I don’t think the assessment will change, honestly.’
Why is that?
To be frank, I haven’t analyzed it that deeply yet.
And there was no real need to.
This was something the players themselves had to demonstrate.
‘All I need to do is keep the competition going.’
So who would win today?

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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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