The Genius Hitter Who Conquered America - Chapter 73

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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 73
The Locker Room had already fallen silent under a veil of defeat as the prospect Major Leaguer Victor Moretti took the Mound.
Yet my mind churned louder than it ever had before.
‘Victor Moretti.’
A man whose very name carried crushing pressure.
I calculated coldly, running the numbers through my head.
I had come up from Low-A.
My skills were certainly improving at an accelerated pace, and my recent performances would hold their own even at higher levels.
But my opponent operated on a different tier entirely.
‘A prospect Major Leaguer.’
The term sounded promising, but he was essentially already a finished product.
Ranked first in the entire Minor League Baseball standings.
Maximum fastball velocity of 102 miles per hour—164 kilometers.
That number carried weight far beyond the simple meaning of speed.
I looked down at my palms.
They were slick with sweat.
I was nervous.
There was no way around it.
‘This might be the opportunity of a lifetime.’
Getting a hit off Victor Moretti wouldn’t catapult me to stardom overnight.
‘But I could make the All-Star Game.’
Yet I had to actually catch that monster with these hands.
Was it possible? Did a method even exist?
‘A surprise bunt?’
I shook my head.
You don’t meet a 164-kilometer pitch with your eyes and bat.
You have to rely on pure instinct.
‘Besides, the ball’s spin rate and kinetic energy are so tremendous that it won’t roll meekly if I just tap it.’
There’s a ninety percent chance the bunt will either roll hard and fast directly at a fielder or the pitcher, or pop up entirely.
And Moretti’s pitching form is economical to begin with.
He won’t even give me the chance to attempt a bunt.
Then… do I overpower him with my superior bat speed?
‘That’s even harder.’
My bat speed is certainly exceptional.
But that’s only true at the Minor League Baseball level.
Going head-to-head in raw power against a prospect Major Leaguer?
It’s like throwing an egg at a boulder.
The problem is, I’ve only mastered the mechanics.
I haven’t yet learned any of the other elements necessary to match them.
In other words.
I hadn’t yet developed the ability to utilize the mechanism at full capacity.
After all, I’d only been in the United States for four months.
‘A home run is the most absurd notion of all.’
The probability approaches zero.
I had to accept it.
Right now, countless baseball prospects exist in this world.
Standing at the very pinnacle above hundreds of thousands—millions—of them is Victor Moretti.
Physical condition, talent, experience, pitching velocity.
He possessed superiority in every aspect.
‘…So a straightforward approach won’t work.’
I grimaced, my taste turning bitter.
If we faced off one-on-one, I’d lose all hundred times out of a hundred.
No matter how much I acted like a protagonist, I couldn’t defy the laws of physics.
This wasn’t a world from a manga—it was the ruthless realm of professional baseball where the strong devoured the weak.
‘There’s a high probability nothing will work. No, nothing will work.’
I closed my eyes and ran a simulation.
I step into the Batter’s Box.
The Pitcher smirks and throws the ball.
In the blink of an eye, the Catcher’s glove makes a sound like it’s about to burst.
I stand there dazed or swing wildly at empty air, striking out.
Then comes the spectators’ sighs and the Scouts’ cold notes.
‘That’s the most realistic future.’
My closed eyes opened again.
That gaze held not despair, but hope.
As always, even today I had no intention of giving up, no matter what trial lay ahead.
‘It’s a certain loss. Only if I fight alone.’
But baseball isn’t like combat sports—it’s not one-on-one.
‘No matter how much of a prospect he is… this is the Arizona Fall League. He’s overlooking this point.’
The Arizona Fall League prioritizes individual statistics over team victory, and flashy full swings over sacrifice bunts.
Everyone is obsessed with showcasing themselves.
Victor Moretti would be no different.
He’d be focused solely on erasing each batter who stepped up to the plate.
‘But what if….’
On a stage where individuals must shine, what if I abandoned the individual and attacked as a team?
‘Actually, this is the only way to win. If I can’t win alone, I win with my teammates.’
It might be an act of breaking the Arizona Fall League’s unspoken rules.
‘So what?’
The essence of baseball never changes.
Look at the Major League.
When a superstar ace who’s won the Cy Young Award takes the mound, what do the opposing team’s batters do?
Not a single batter from first through ninth was swinging for the fences.
One would choke up on the bat to run up the pitch count, another would execute a surprise bunt to rattle the pitcher’s nerves, and yet another would take a pitch off the body just to reach the Base Paths.
That’s how you chip away at a giant and bring it crashing down.
That’s real baseball.
The Arizona Fall League was no different.
United as a team, we would dismantle the towering fortress that was Victor Moretti.
Of course, a warning bell chimed somewhere in the back of my mind.
Wouldn’t spreading the spotlight like that dilute my own presence?
I shook my head.
This is the United States, after all.
Would the sophisticated baseball minds and fans here really fail to recognize what I was doing?
Not a chance.
These people are remarkably intelligent—at least when it comes to baseball, no one can match their understanding.
They are the scouts and fans of baseball’s birthplace.
They don’t simply look at batting averages or home run totals.
They see who unified this ragtag collection of players.
Who orchestrated the strategy and set the trap to catch the giant.
They are the ones who value such contributions more highly than anyone else.
My decision was made.
I couldn’t win alone.
So I would win with my team.
I made my resolve and turned to survey the Locker Room.
The problem was the team itself.
Mark and Casey were the first to catch my eye.
My most reliable allies.
But my brow furrowed.
Those two alone weren’t enough.
I had to be ruthlessly honest about it.
I get on base and create chaos, then connect with Casey and Mark to finish the job.
I’d used this winning formula countless times throughout the first half of the Arizona Fall League.
It was certainly highlighted in red on the opposing team’s scouting reports.
A pitcher of Victor Moretti’s caliber could simply overpower such an obvious pattern.
I needed a variable—an unexpected card that would completely shatter the pitcher’s calculations.
That’s when it happened.
A figure caught the corner of my vision.
A blond man sitting cross-legged in the corner of the Locker Room, his posture deliberately casual and dismissive.
He’d initially ignored and antagonized us, but just days ago had inexplicably bought us steaks in an awkward attempt to win us over.
Liam.
The team’s cleanup hitter and a walking embodiment of pride.
Even if he’d apologized, I couldn’t say I particularly liked him as a person.
But.
‘The enemy of my enemy is my ally, they say.’
Liam’s hitting ability is honestly superior to Mark and Casey at this point.
‘I wouldn’t call his talent exceptional, but he’s currently playing in a higher league, so naturally he’s more advanced.’
Above all, his pride runs deep—he despises plays that require sacrifice for the team.
That was precisely the key point.
Victor Moretti would never imagine Liam capable of teamwork.
‘If I can only use that beast as a pawn.’
It would be enough.
The trap to catch the monster would be complete.
Soo-ho rose from his seat.
Now all that remained was the persuasive power to tame that arrogant predator.
* * *
Ten minutes before the game started.
The air in the Desert Dogs’ Dugout, where Soo-ho belonged, was heavy.
Every player’s gaze was fixed on the Mound.
There, Victor Moretti was casually loosening his shoulders.
Whoosh!
From a pitch thrown without apparent effort came a sharp crack that seemed to tear the Catcher’s mitt apart.
Full power?
No.
To anyone watching, it was a ball tossed with roughly fifty percent effort.
Yet the ball’s trajectory writhed like a serpent, alive and undulating.
The faces of the players observing this turned pale.
“…Insane. That’s just a warmup?”
“I can’t even see the ball….”
Soo-ho nearly whistled in astonishment.
Even thrown casually, it was more devastating than any pitch the pitchers here could throw at full strength.
It was an overwhelming difference in ability.
‘This is no time to be discouraged.’
Soo-ho steeled himself.
Now was not the moment for admiration—it was time to act.
Soo-ho approached Mark and Casey.
Both of them looked up.
Their expressions were equally filled with dread.
It made sense—they were in a hurry to advance, yet they’d encountered a formidable opponent.
But Soo-ho deliberately gestured toward the Mound with his chin, speaking as if it were nothing serious.
“What do you think? Think we can win?”
Mark shook his head as if Soo-ho were spouting nonsense.
“Are you joking? You can’t see the ball? Forget fastballs—our bats would shatter against his breaking pitches.”
It meant his pitching ability was that exceptional.
Meanwhile, Casey remained silent throughout.
For someone usually brimming with confidence to maintain such silence spoke volumes.
His pride had taken a considerable blow.
Therefore, it was no different from openly admitting we had no chance of winning.
Indirectly, it allowed me to grasp just how monstrous this opponent truly was.
Two geniuses were acknowledging it, after all.
But I wasn’t discouraged.
Rather, a composed smile played at the corners of my mouth.
“Right? Seems impossible, doesn’t it?”
Mark exhaled heavily.
“Obviously.”
“But what if.”
My eyes gleamed.
“What if we bring down that Pitcher? What happens then?”
Mark tilted his head in disbelief.
“Everyone came to see him. If we destroy their star player, we can redirect all that attention to ourselves. It’s like a dream, but.”
A giant-killing victory against the Arizona Fall League’s biggest issue maker.
The sweet rewards such a feat would bring were obvious without explanation.
I stepped closer and lowered my voice.
“But what if I could neutralize that Pitcher? If I’ve figured out a way—would you want to hear it?”
Both their eyes widened simultaneously.
If an ordinary player had said such a thing, they would have scoffed.
But the person speaking was me.
In Low-A, they called me this.
The Magician.
‘Could it be….’
Casey’s pupils trembled.
When I displayed confidence like this, it always meant I had something up my sleeve.
Of course, this opponent was on a different level.
But once you’ve tasted a miracle, even once, you instinctively believe in miracles again.
Better than zero out of a hundred points.
If we were destined to lose anyway.
Whether we died passively or fighting made no difference.
Then my confident gaze was worth betting on.
Even a ten percent—no, twenty percent chance was worth seizing.
“…What is it? This idea of yours.”
Casey asked carefully.
His voice seemed to crave hope.
Mark too swallowed hard, his attention fixed on my lips.
When I received responses from both of them, I smiled with satisfaction.
“Then, I’ll bring just one more player to complete this strategy.”
I stepped away briefly and approached Liam.
He too seemed completely absorbed in watching the practice pitches.
“Liam.”
“Huh? Huh? My friend! What’s going on!”
Liam tried to hide his startled expression and offered a subtle smile.
It seemed he hadn’t expected me to seek him out first.
“The opposing pitcher looks difficult, doesn’t he?”
“Yeah. You feel it too, right? What can we do? He’ll be in the Major League next year.”
“But I’ve just thought of a way to beat that player. Would you like to hear it?”
Liam’s eyes widened.
Of course he wanted to hear it!
After all, Liam also knew that I was the leader of the current sensation—the Low-A trio.
If I extended my hand to him, how could he refuse?
That would be foolish and stupid.
He wasn’t a fool, so when a rope of hope descended, he reached out to grab it.
“Absolutely.”
“Then, come over here for a moment.”
I stood before Mark and Casey, with Liam beside me.
When Liam approached, both of them immediately frowned.
Though they’d gotten steaks from him, they still felt uncomfortable knowing he intended to use them.
But I was determined to cut through this awkward atmosphere at once.
I gestured for all three to come closer.
“So the strategy I’ve devised for Victor Moretti is titled: Dragging the Major League Prospect into the Mud.”
Mark, Casey, and Liam.
The Los Angeles Dodgers’ prospects leaned in toward my voice.
The surrounding noise faded away, and only my low, hushed voice reached their ears.
“…
As I continued my explanation, the three of them’s expressions changed in real time.
First, to bewilderment.
Then, to astonishment.
Finally, to shock—as if they couldn’t believe what they were hearing.
And Victor Moretti’s strategy would be revealed in the game.

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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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