The Genius Hitter Who Conquered America - Chapter 62

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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 62
“Today’s lineup is quite intriguing.”
Thomas muttered while taking a large bite of his hot dog from the stands.
His gaze remained fixed on the ground, unconcerned even as ketchup smeared the corner of his mouth.
He was right.
Today’s lineup was certainly provocative.
Leadoff: Soo-ho. Second: Casey. Third: Mark. Fourth: Liam.
From the table setter through the heart of the order.
The top four batting positions were entirely occupied by Los Angeles Dodgers prospects.
‘A positive signal.’
Thomas swallowed his smile as he chewed.
In the Arizona Fall League, the lineup isn’t merely a batting order of strong hitters.
It’s an indicator of whom the manager believes has potential.
Especially that the three rookies fresh from Low-A had claimed the first, second, and third spots.
It was also evidence that their potential overshadowed the existing players.
“I’m particularly curious to see what kind of performance Oh Soo-ho will show today. I have high expectations.”
Thomas added while wiping his mouth with a napkin.
His words spoke of anticipation, but the undertone was closer to concern.
“Honestly, it won’t be easy. All the data has already been exposed.”
Baseball is a game of information.
Since Soo-ho had swung fiercely in the last game, the opposing team’s analysts certainly hadn’t been idle.
His hot zones and cold zones were undoubtedly already programmed into the opposing pitcher’s mind.
Paul, sitting beside him, quietly nodded.
“That’s certainly true.”
Then he thought.
‘High fastballs inside. And deep fastballs on the inside corner.’
Those were Soo-ho’s weaknesses when trying to hit for power.
And the opposition would likely exploit that relentlessly.
The sophomore slump that rookies most commonly experience even in the Major League.
It emerges because players crumble once a counter-strategy is discovered.
He had given Soo-ho a tip yesterday.
To abandon his weaknesses and focus on his strengths.
‘But knowing something intellectually and having your body respond are worlds apart.’
Even players who’ve done nothing but baseball for decades take years to change their form.
Much less in just one day?
‘It’s impossible unless a miracle happens.’
Habit is a terrifying thing.
Once in the batter’s box, his bat might instinctively reach for his weakness zones.
But Paul’s eyes saw deeper than Thomas’s.
‘Still, he’s a quick learner. I’m curious what kind of response he’ll show.’
Paul opened his notebook and adjusted his grip on his pen.
What he wanted to confirm from Soo-ho today wasn’t the results—home runs or hits.
‘Even a well-struck ball becomes an out if it goes straight to a fielder. That’s baseball.’
Luck plays a role in outcomes.
Therefore, what a scout needed to observe was the process with luck removed.
Could Soo-ho truly refrain from swinging at pitches inside and high?
Could he recognize his own weaknesses and demonstrate patience at the plate?
The willingness to improve. And the countermeasures he’d prepared.
‘If he shows me that, I can give him credit.’
He didn’t need to produce results.
Striking out was fine.
But if he showed no willingness to improve, Paul would mark him down without mercy.
A prospect who doesn’t develop is just a big kid, nothing more.
That was it.
The real evaluation of the Dodgers prospect was starting now.
“Here he comes.”
As Thomas announced it, the leadoff batter Soo-ho was walking into the batter’s box.
* * *
Stepping into the batter’s box, Soo-ho adjusted his helmet and fixed his gaze on the pitcher’s mound.
His mind was filled with complex calculations.
‘Don’t swing at inside pitches or high balls under any circumstances.’
Yesterday’s first game, he’d recorded a walk and an extra-base hit.
That extra-base hit, born from meticulous calculation and deliberate planning, had certainly impressed the scouts.
‘But that alone isn’t enough.’
The organization demanded more than simply hitting well.
The scout’s assignment was unforgiving.
To hit for power, he had to abandon the inside and high pitches.
‘In other words, I need to boldly pass on the pitches that are hard for me to reach.’
It meant not chasing bad pitches just for a single hit in front of him.
What mattered more than immediate batting average or OPS was establishing his own zone that would work at higher levels.
Simply put, this at-bat was a test to prove his growth potential.
‘So today’s assignment is far more important.’
The problem was that those zones went against a batter’s instincts.
‘Inside pitches are where a batter can generate the most power for extra-base hits.’
If you catch it on the barrel, it’s the sweetest temptation, carrying the farthest.
High pitches were even worse.
Because they’re closer to the batter’s eye level, the ball appears larger, and the moment you think you shouldn’t swing, your bat is already extending—a bewitching zone.
So resisting this was nearly impossible.
‘But that’s okay.’
Soo-ho swung his bat lightly a couple of times.
Instead, the corners of my mouth lifted slightly.
‘If I think about it differently, enduring just these two things means I’ll earn that much higher of a score, right?’
Crisis is opportunity.
If I endure what others cannot, my value skyrockets.
‘Besides, if I can identify the bait pitches and only hunt for mistakes, my chances of hitting for extra bases will climb even higher.’
My characteristic positive circuit began spinning at full throttle.
If you think something is impossible, it becomes impossible.
From the start, my very presence here existed in the realm of the impossible.
A mere KBO Minor League cast-off, standing in a Los Angeles Dodgers uniform—the most prestigious organization in Major League Baseball.
If I hadn’t been positive back then, if I had given up first, would such a miraculous stroke of fortune have found me?
‘Absolutely not.’
For me, positivity was not mere optimism.
It was the most powerful engine that pushed me beyond my limits.
After all, God grants no opportunities to those who cannot believe in themselves.
The opposing pitcher was Dylan, the Black Hawks’ starter.
Maximum velocity of 99 miles per hour—159 kilometers.
His control was erratic, but on his hot days, he was a fireballer no one could stop.
First pitch. Dylan began his wind-up.
Crack!
The sound of the ball embedding itself in the catcher’s glove thundered across the field.
“Strike!”
A fastball deep on the inside corner.
Contrary to reports of poor control, the first pitch cut sharply into my weakness.
It was proof that the opposing battery had already mapped out every strength and weakness of mine.
‘So that’s where it comes.’
I had to get on base, hit for power, and shore up my weaknesses.
My head felt ready to burst under the mountain of tasks piling up.
My body tensed with anxiety.
But I exhaled a long breath and swept away the tangled thoughts.
‘Don’t be greedy.’
I can’t be satisfied all at once.
Overindulgence only brings trouble.
‘I’m not a genius.’
Not like Casey, with his animal instinct that lets him mimic anything after seeing it once.
Not like Mark, with his raw physicality that crushes everything in its path.
I wasn’t that kind of player.
‘So let me do what I always do.’
Brick by brick, step by step.
Right now, focus only on one thing—patience.
Whoosh!
The second pitch cut through the air.
This time, a fastball high in the zone.
The ball appeared large before my eyes.
My brain commanded: ‘Swing!’
I flinched.
My shoulder twitched, but the bat didn’t come forward.
“Ball!”
“Phew….”
I exhaled a short breath.
‘That was close.’
Restraint was harder than I’d imagined.
Every muscle in my body seemed to cry out in protest.
Yet my eyes burned with sharper intensity than ever before.
I traced the contact point with the determination to etch every trajectory into my vision the moment the ball met the bat.
Third pitch, ball. Fourth pitch, foul. The count was now 2-2.
The pitcher threw his decisive fifth pitch.
Outside.
To my eyes, it appeared to miss the zone by a hair.
So I let it go.
“Strike three!”
The Referee’s hand rose.
Sighs rippled through the Stands, but I nodded calmly and stepped out of the Batter’s Box without complaint.
‘Hmm. It did look like it missed by a bit.’
Regret? Anger?
I felt neither.
‘I’ve got the feel for it now.’
How close to my body I needed to let pitches pass.
How high I needed to hold my discipline.
And where the Referee’s zone truly ended.
I walked toward the Dugout, removing my batting gloves.
Though I’d struck out, the harvest was undeniable.
‘It was my first time doing this.’
Abandoning pitches inside and high.
For a batter to give up these two zones in baseball.
Was essentially surrendering half his opportunities.
This was my first time employing such a strategy, so I had no data on it.
But now a baseline had been established.
From my next at-bat onward, anything falling within that standard would face no mercy.
* * *
Bottom of the first inning.
The Low A Trio’s offense, which had entered the batter’s box with such momentum, ended in disappointment.
Leadoff hitter Soo-ho struck out.
Second batter Casey flew out to center field.
Third batter Mark hit into an infield pop fly.
Three up, three down.
As they jogged back to the dugout for the defensive change, their expressions had hardened into rigid masks.
‘So this is the Arizona Fall League.’
The scouts in the stands nodded knowingly.
This place was the Minor League’s all-star game, the gateway for future Major Leaguers.
The pitchers’ velocity, the angle of their breaking balls, their ability to manage a game—everything.
It was on an entirely different level from Low-A.
Now it became clear why each organization sent their most prized prospects here.
This was the moment the truth revealed itself.
The wall was far higher and more formidable than anyone had imagined.
Top of the second inning.
Liam, stepping up as the leadoff hitter, felt like humming a tune.
‘How pathetic.’
The batters before him had failed to set the table.
As the fourth batter, stepping into the box with no runners on base was normally something that should have frustrated him.
But this time was different.
In fact, the fact that those punks had accomplished nothing and struck out thrilled him.
‘Those guys’ talent is real.’
Though he hated to admit it, their performances so far had been threatening.
For mere Low-A players, they possessed potential dangerous enough to threaten him.
If they were that talented, it was better they crumbled now.
He hoped they would feel the wall here, despair, and never find the strength to rise again.
‘That way I can run forward without looking back.’
The lightness of running ahead was far better than the anxiety of being chased.
Liam stepped into the box with a noticeably lighter heart.
Crack!
With a crisp sound of contact, the ball shot through the gap next to the shortstop.
A clean single to left field.
As Liam touched first base, he clenched his fist and thrust it toward the dugout—more precisely, toward Manager Harry—as if to say, ‘Did you see that?’
‘Did you see, Manager?’
It’s time to reconsider your decision.
A silent protest that his choice was wrong and that he was right.
Low-A was nothing but Low-A.
‘So stop pushing those worthless guys and push me instead.’
Liam’s shoulders rose with pride.
In the dugout, Casey and Mark watched the scene unfold, their faces contorting with displeasure.
“…Damn unlucky bastard.”
I cursed under my breath at the same moment.
Honestly, it irritated me to no end.
After all, he was on the same team, a fellow Dodgers player who’d just gotten a hit, yet instead of congratulating him, my chest burned with resentment.
The truth was, our situation was far too desperate to afford magnanimity.
Even within the Dodgers organization, we were ultimately competitors fighting for Spring Training roster spots.
And that annoying bastard had delivered results while we’d remained silent.
“Damn….”
Mark exhaled a deep sigh.
My insides were burning.
I had to surpass him.
Only then could I take even one step closer to the Major League.
But reality was merciless.
“To be honest, when Soo-ho doesn’t reach base, you can definitely feel the level difference.”
At Mark’s self-deprecating remark, Casey fell silent as well.
There was no denying it.
Looking back, it had been that way since the Low-A days.
Whenever Soo-ho reached base and opened a path, overwhelming results came far more often.
So Soo-ho always bore the burden first, taking the hits before anyone else.
And because he paved the way, we could follow behind and hit comfortably.
In that moment, a weak thought flashed through Mark’s mind.
‘If only Soo-ho would get one more hit? Or, hell, even a bunt single to get on….’
Asking an OPS-type hitter for a bunt was disrespectful.
But a bunt single was still a legitimate way to reach base.
If only Soo-ho could get on somehow, I felt I could hit too against a rattled pitcher.
And wasn’t this Soo-ho’s usual style anyway?
Casey’s thoughts weren’t different.
‘If he just gets on base… the pitchers’ mentality definitely shakes when he’s on the base paths.’
The most reliable leadoff hitter.
I wanted to lean on him.
But both of them immediately shook their heads vigorously.
‘Damn! Are you insane? Mark, you bastard! How dare you think such a thing? Soo-ho has his own path to walk.’
Hoping for a friend’s sacrifice for my own stats.
The pressure must have driven me temporarily mad.
Mark scolded himself that way.
Casey bit his lip as well.
‘Idiot.’
This curse too was directed at himself.
Not trying to solve things with his own strength, but instead hoping to ride on someone else’s back.
This went against his perfectionist baseball philosophy.
Self-doubt was creeping in when it happened.
“I’ll get on base.”
A calm voice shattered their reverie.
Looking up, I stood there in full gear.
“Huh?”
“…What did you say?”
Both their eyes widened in shock.
I chuckled softly and adjusted my gloves.
“If I get on base, it’ll make things easier for you two.”
“C-can you really do it? That pitcher’s stuff is no joke.”
“Yeah. Absolutely possible.”
Such unwavering conviction in my response.
Mark and Casey stared at me blankly.
Were they really about to attempt a surprise bunt? For us?
I spun the bat and walked toward the batter’s box.
Feeling their gazes on my back, I murmured to myself.
‘Even geniuses feel pressure, it seems.’
That Casey and Mark would make such expressions—it was unthinkable.
It only proved how much weight this stage carried.
That’s why I said I’d get on base.
As a teammate moving forward together, I wanted to lighten their burden.
‘And I really think I can get on base this at-bat.’
Of course, I didn’t specify whether that would be through a bunt or a short hit.
‘The data has accumulated.’
My strikeout in the first at-bat wasn’t wasted.
It was time to prove that experience had built up.
I stepped into the batter’s box and took my stance.
The confidence radiating from my figure was subtly transforming the very atmosphere of the stadium.

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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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