The Genius Hitter Who Conquered America - Chapter 70

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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 70
The game ended in a lopsided victory for the Desert Dogs, with Soo-ho’s team dominating so thoroughly it was almost anticlimactic.
My announced steal followed by a successful steal had completely shattered the opposing battery’s mental fortitude.
The Pitcher grew visibly agitated with every move I made, while the Catcher’s pitch selection fell apart entirely.
As a result, Casey and Mark racked up RBIs with ease.
Beyond that….
Even Liam had a comfortable day at the plate, adding to his RBI total.
As the game ended and spectators began filing out of the Stands in a chaotic atmosphere.
Behind home plate, in the area where the Scouts gathered, the energy remained electric.
“What did you make of that display today?”
“What do you think? I need to rewrite my report.”
A middle-aged Scout closed his notebook with a shake of his head.
Next to number 37, Soo-ho’s name was underlined heavily in his notes.
The Scout sitting beside him nodded in agreement.
“That wasn’t just a steal. It was murder. He killed that opposing Pitcher’s spirit.”
“A called steal… I’ve eaten and breathed baseball for twenty years, but this is the first rookie I’ve seen with that kind of audacity.”
Awe flickered in the Scouts’ eyes.
What amazed them wasn’t merely Soo-ho’s explosive speed.
It was the intelligence and boldness with which he leveraged that speed to pressure his opponents.
And the execution that produced results.
“To be honest, number 37 won that game single-handedly.”
“I agree. Casey got more hits, and Mark hit the home run, but… there’s no question the real hero was him.”
In baseball, Win Probability Added isn’t measured simply by counting hits.
It’s about the ability to exploit an opponent’s weakness at critical moments and shift momentum in your favor.
In other words, it measures how much a play changes the team’s probability of winning at that exact moment.
Today, Soo-ho demonstrated the pinnacle of that ability.
“They say the Arizona Fall League doesn’t care about wins and losses. But everyone knows what teams really want, right?”
“A player who knows how to win.”
That was the answer.
One Scout packed his radar gun into his bag and continued.
Even if a Pitcher throws 160 kilometers per hour and a batter crushes home runs left and right, if they can’t lead their team to victory, that’s only half a talent.
But today’s Soo-ho was different.
With a single bunt hit, he struck fear into his opponents.
He set the table for his teammates.
And ultimately, he led his team to victory.
“One player changes the atmosphere of an entire team….”
This cannot be taught.
Innate star quality, or a competitor’s instinct.
The Scouts, seasoned by countless experiences, understood better than anyone how immense that invisible, intangible value truly was.
“Let me see—he’s with the Dodgers, right?”
“Yes. He came up from Low-A.”
“Those Dodgers bastards. Where the hell were they hiding a gem like this?”
And they all quietly and discreetly harbored the same thought.
‘At least he’s still in Low-A. Not locked into the 40-man roster yet? We need to inform the front office immediately.’
Trade lists were already materializing in their minds.
Let’s be frank about it.
In the Major League trade market, Low-A players are typically treated as lottery tickets.
Since they’re not immediate contributors, they get bundled in between big deals involving established stars.
They’re perfect merchandise to acquire as a player to be named later.
Above all, the team in question is the Dodgers.
A club notorious for its deep farm system.
That meant internal competition was fierce enough that they might casually surrender a raw diamond like this at the negotiating table.
‘This is the opportunity to buy low.’
The mental calculators in the scouts’ heads worked frantically.
Whether by trading a relief pitcher or slipping him into a prospect package deal.
They had to snatch him before the Dodgers recognized his true value and declared him NFS—not for sale.
A lottery ticket they thought was unscratched, yet whose winning numbers were faintly visible.
The perfect moment to acquire it at a bargain was right now, before Soo-ho shed the Low-A label.
Therefore, Soo-ho was no longer merely an object of observation.
He had become a target worthy of serious acquisition consideration.
The reason was simple.
He had demonstrated that value.
Fast runners were a dime a dozen.
But the ability to weaponize that speed to psychologically pressure opponents and single-handedly reverse the game’s momentum?
That was an instinctive realm that couldn’t be taught.
Moreover, look at Soo-ho’s Arizona Fall League performance.
He was excelling not just on the basepaths but across multiple facets of the game.
A player of that caliber still unprotected by his organization, completely defenseless.
For the hyena-like scouts from other clubs, there was no more appetizing piece of meat.
But!
There was one person reading the covert glances in their eyes.
Paul, the Dodgers’ scout, let out a silent chuckle with his arms crossed.
‘Good grief. They’re all drooling all over themselves. But what can they do about it?’
Do they think the Dodgers are that easy to push around?
Paul sipped his coffee with an air of leisurely confidence.
Of course, contrary to what the other scouts were obviously thinking.
Soo-ho was currently in a state akin to unclaimed territory.
‘But that doesn’t mean the Dodgers are the kind of organization to let opportunity slip through their fingers.’
Of course, practical considerations remained.
Just because he had one good outing today, we’re immediately locking him into the 40-man roster?
To be frank, that was impossible.
‘There simply wasn’t room.’
The 40-man roster was completely full.
To add Soo-ho, someone would have to be designated for assignment or placed on waivers.
Discard existing resources for a rookie who’d just been promoted from Low-A, barely beginning to show promise?
‘That would be insane for a general manager.’
The sample size was simply too small.
Soo-ho still needed more validation.
‘That’s usually where the dilemma sets in.’
The organization hesitates due to lack of certainty, and in that window, rival teams catch the scent and make their move.
It was a common cliché that promising prospects faced.
But Paul smiled as he watched Soo-ho’s retreating figure leaving the ground.
‘But there’s one absolute truth that never changes.’
He really was a sharp one.
Soo-ho seemed to understand it.
That he couldn’t make the roster right now.
And that to force the team management to lock him in as a protected player, he’d need something beyond mere statistics.
‘The All-Star Game.’
Soo-ho’s gaze was fixed precisely on that target.
If he were selected and displayed an impact like today’s on a nationally broadcast stage?
‘Then the situation could reverse.’
From that point on, the fans would lose their minds first, and public opinion would ignite.
By then, the organization would have no choice.
If only to avoid the backlash.
They’d have to slot him into the 40-man roster and slap a non-waiverable tag on him.
‘He’s planning to twist the organization’s arm in the most spectacular way possible.’
Paul was impressed.
He’d thought Soo-ho was just good at baseball.
But his political maneuvering was Major League caliber.
It was a compliment.
A friend who understood how to price his own value at premium rates, not bargain basement.
“Today’s report is going to be satisfying to write.”
Paul picked up his pen with genuine pleasure.
The title for the top of the page was already decided.
[An Asset That Must Be Protected]
* * *
Even after the scouts had filtered out like the tide receding, one person remained alone in the stands.
The owner of a massive baseball channel with 850,000 subscribers.
Jake.
He muttered absently as he rewound the footage captured in his viewfinder.
‘Wow… this guy’s absolutely insane.’
He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the camera’s LCD screen.
In the footage, from the moment Soo-ho tightened his gloves to the instant he stole second base—that brief span of time.
It was like a meticulously crafted thriller film.
‘What have I been filming all this time?’
Jake had uploaded thousands of videos over the past five years.
Flashy bat flips, hundred-mile-per-hour fastballs, massive home runs soaring beyond the fence—he had it all.
The reason was simple.
‘Because it makes money.’
People are captivated by spectacular explosions, and that captivation translates directly into views and revenue.
In a capitalist society, a YouTuber’s obsession with views isn’t a sin.
‘It’s practically a virtue.’
But what he witnessed today transcended such capitalist logic.
‘Is this… baseball?’
Jake dragged his palm across his face in a dry wash.
He possessed knowledge about baseball that rivaled most experts.
Which made today’s scene all the more shocking.
‘A one-man show unfolded on that ground today.’
A one-man show. It happens occasionally.
One player hits several home runs.
A pitcher throws a complete game shutout.
That’s what a one-man show is.
But today’s one-man show was distinctly different.
He didn’t even swing the bat properly once, yet he dominated the entire game.
He checked Soo-ho’s eyes in the LCD screen once more.
Major League superstars—monsters—all share a common ability.
‘It’s clutch ability.’
That heroic capacity to deliver when the team faces absolute crisis, when points are desperately needed, to pull off that one crucial play.
It’s a qualification every superstar should possess.
‘But this is different.’
The clutch that he and baseball fans commonly knew was about resolution.
Catching a pitcher’s throw and sending it over the fence, or delivering a timely hit.
In other words, reacting to the opponent’s action.
But Soo-ho’s play today was different.
He didn’t wait.
‘He created the situation himself, cornered his opponent, and utterly destroyed them.’
The pitcher was already psychologically overwhelmed before even throwing the ball.
The catcher’s fate was sealed before he could even move.
It was a different breed from traditional clutch.
Far more proactive, far more ruthless, and therefore far more overwhelming.
‘A batter who blows up the game without landing a single proper hit.’
Soo-ho had recorded a bunt single, but.
In American baseball, safety bunts don’t receive much fanfare.
Long hits are what captivate the crowds.
That’s why Jake shuddered even more.
‘This was a play that doesn’t exist in American baseball textbooks.’
Or perhaps it was the most primal essence of baseball itself.
Hitting, running, deceiving. An art form that pushed that essence to its absolute limit.
‘This footage is….’
Jake swallowed hard.
Honestly, it was a work of art.
The narrative arc was flawless, and the psychological warfare woven within it was spine-tingling.
But! Could this actually capture the public’s attention?
That was an entirely separate problem.
‘Art doesn’t pay the bills, after all.’
Jake wasn’t a volunteer.
He was a full-time content creator whose view counts translated directly into his bank account.
Would an unknown Asian player really have marketable value? And not even for a home run, just a single stolen base?
Jake’s brow furrowed.
The real value of this footage lay in its context.
How Soo-ho had built momentum, how that gnawed away at the pitcher’s mental state, and ultimately what butterfly effect his actions had on the team’s victory.
You needed to understand that entire flow to feel the thrill.
But that was the problem.
‘There’s no way to explain that.’
Add lengthy captions to spell it out?
[This player’s actions unsettled the pitcher’s psyche, causing him to botch his slide step….]
Who would sit through such tedious text?
And the amount of text needed for explanation would be excessive.
If he added commentary instead, it would become an educational broadcast.
‘I can’t upload a full game footage over two hours long.’
Kids these days skip past one-minute shorts as too long.
And you want them to watch an unknown player’s entire game from start to finish?
That’s insane.
It was a direct path to zero views and channel death.
‘Maybe I should take the safer route?’
Jake checked another file.
Mark’s spectacular home run footage.
Casey’s clean hit compilation.
These were guaranteed hits.
Content that would blow up without a second thought.
In that moment, temptation reared its head.
Should I just make this the main upload and push Soo-ho’s video to a secondary slot or release it later?
But Jake shook his head.
‘No. That would be the worst move.’
Splitting videos into fragments and uploading them separately was something only amateurs did.
The YouTube algorithm was merciless.
When multiple videos dropped around the same time, viewer clicks scattered across them.
The result was mutual destruction—a team kill where nothing succeeded.
On a single channel, you had to select your strongest one-pick and ride the algorithm’s wave with it.
Selection and concentration.
That was the survival law of this industry.
‘I have to choose.’
The safe, reliable bet—Mark or Casey, guaranteed hundreds of thousands of views.
Or the unknown Soo-ho, who could either blow up spectacularly or flop entirely.
Jake gazed once more at Soo-ho’s eyes through the viewfinder.
That brazen, arrogant gesture of holding up his glove toward me.
And.
‘A prediction!’
Followed by an almost unbelievable success.
This narrative was more powerful than a home run.
Even knowing the outcome, people couldn’t help but be captivated by the tension of the journey.
This wasn’t baseball—it was drama.
‘Yeah. Why not.’
Jake slung his camera bag over his shoulder with newfound resolve.
‘I’m not some unknown nobody creator, after all.’
I had solid experience in the baseball field.
‘Just nail the title. They’ll watch. Get a good-looking thumbnail shot.’
Jake’s steps grew lighter as he gathered his things and headed out.

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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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