The Genius Hitter Who Conquered America - Chapter 75

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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 75
The pens of scouts dispatched from all thirty Major League Baseball clubs moved with frantic purpose.
Their eyes remained fixed on the Mound, on the blonde-haired Pitcher.
“A monster. An absolute monster.”
One scout muttered the words while shaking his head in disbelief.
Victor Moretti.
His pitching grew even more flawless as he transitioned from the first inning into the second.
Crack!
“Strike three!”
The moment the second inning ended, Victor shrugged his shoulders with unmistakable arrogance.
He had faced a total of six batters so far.
The second inning he had just completed was particularly impressive.
He had recorded three outs with just ten pitches.
He overpowered them with fastballs clocking 102 miles per hour, and when the batter flinched and offered the bat, he induced ground balls.
He demonstrated not only raw dominance but also the finesse to paint the corners.
He was single-handedly proving why he ranked first in the entire Minor League Baseball standings.
“Now I understand why the Yankees locked him onto their roster so early.”
The Chicago Cubs scout nodded in agreement.
The Red Sox scout beside him also stroked his chin in acknowledgment, but—
his gaze soon extended beyond merely Victor’s results.
He flipped back a page in his notebook and reviewed the first inning statistics once more.
“That said… doesn’t something seem off?”
“Off about what?”
“The pitch count in the first inning.”
The scout tapped the first inning record sheet with his pen.
The Cubs scout’s eyes shifted toward that spot.
First Inning Pitch Count: 17 pitches
“…It is high. Unusually high for Victor.”
“High doesn’t begin to cover it. These are Low-A Level batters. Even Triple-A batters don’t force Victor to throw that many pitches in a single inning.”
That was the truth.
The first inning had resulted in strikeouts and ground balls, but the process had been anything but smooth.
The first batter, Soo-ho, struck out on three pitches, yet oddly never offered the bat; the second batter, Casey, went to a full seven-pitch battle; and—
the third batter, Mark, was no different.
“It doesn’t seem like they simply lacked the hitting technique to make contact.”
The scouts’ eyes gleamed with sharp intensity.
These were veterans who had observed thousands of prospects over decades.
This was no coincidence.
It was a thoroughly calculated, coordinated team effort.
“Those guys… it feels like they’re scheming something.”
At that moment, the Referee’s call echoed across the field.
“Strike out!”
“Strike out!”
Top of the 4th inning.
Victor Moretti remained utterly dominant.
He roared as he struck out three batters from the lower order in succession.
There seemed to be no one capable of stopping this warmed-up monster.
Top of the 4th inning.
Bases empty.
Thump, thump.
Soo-ho stepped into the Batter’s Box.
* * *
As I entered the Batter’s Box, I adjusted my helmet and fixed my gaze on the Mound.
Victor Moretti’s eyes blazed with intensity.
He still seemed displeased about throwing so many pitches in the first inning.
‘He’s definitely coming in fast and aggressive.’
This annoying leadoff batter who had dealt him something akin to humiliation in the first inning—he wanted to erase me in an instant.
And my prediction proved flawless.
Whoosh!
First pitch.
A 102-mile fastball down the middle, skipping all the complicated mind games.
It was a pitch dripping with arrogance—a dare to swing if I dared.
“Strike!”
I held back and watched.
Just as I expected.
‘Our young master is quite angry.’
And rightfully so.
In truth, failing to predict this would have been foolish.
The universally acknowledged number one prospect in Minor League Baseball, a future Major Leaguer, had struggled from the first inning against mere Low-A batters.
Even though the result was scoreless, the process must have displeased him.
For a perfectionist like him, the process mattered as much as the outcome.
He was a prospect hungry enough to devour even the Major Leagues.
‘That’s why he wants to make up for it.’
The impatience to crush me with raw power, to bury the memory of the first inning.
That was precisely where I intended to strike.
‘He’s still just a prospect.’
Confidence surged through me.
Because that phrase meant he wasn’t yet a Major Leaguer.
He was still a frog in a well, just before escaping it.
The very fact that he threw pitches laced with emotion was proof of that.
‘If he had experienced the Major Leagues, he would never show such a face.’
Of course, even that emotion was a result of Soo-ho deliberately scratching at it.
‘The faster he tries to grab it, the deeper he’ll sink into the mud.’
No. From now on, it’s not just mud anymore.
The more he thrashes, the deeper he’ll be sucked into the swamp.
‘Should I start shaking things up?’
Soo-ho adjusted his grip on the bat.
I could see his emotion in the first pitch.
Now it was time to amplify that emotion.
‘Still, he’ll be watching my feet.’
The opposing Analytics Team would know I’m a speedster too.
The moment Victor began his second pitch, Soo-ho lowered his stance.
And he laid the bat flat.
A surprise bunt position.
That was the moment.
I could see Victor on the Mound flinch.
Surely not a bunt out in the open?
Bunting against a fastball over 100 miles per hour was essentially suicide.
The probability of getting the desired result was extremely slim.
But the opponent had pulled off something extraordinary in the first inning.
Because of that momentary loss of balance, the ball slipped from Victor’s hand.
At the same time.
Thud-thud-thud-thud!
The First Baseman and Third Baseman shot out like bullets.
But the moment the ball came in, Soo-ho quickly pulled the bat back.
Crack!
“Ball!”
The ball sailed wide outside.
Victor’s expression darkened.
As a brief silence fell, Soo-ho captured the changes on the Ground in his vision in that short moment.
‘Both the Third Baseman and First Baseman charged out.’
They were definitely conscious of my base-running speed.
A single bunt fake had sent the entire infield into motion.
In pure baseball skill, I’m still behind the opponent.
But right at this moment.
‘I have the advantage in this mind game.’
It wasn’t Victor who held and shook the board—it was Soo-ho.
And gaining the upper hand in a mind game in baseball was an enormous advantage.
‘I need to settle this.’
Third pitch.
Victor wound up again.
This time, his lips were pressed firmly together, as if determined not to waver.
The ball headed straight down the middle again.
A strong resolve emanated from him—he wouldn’t be fooled by a bunt motion this time.
‘The top-ranked pitcher really is different.’
He gets shaken once, then immediately regains his composure.
‘But… only one pitcher has regained his composure. The rest haven’t.’
I laid the bat down again.
Another bunt stance.
Because of this, the First Baseman and Third Baseman reflexively broke for their positions once more.
But this time, something different was detected compared to the first pitch.
My bat snapped back in an instant, then came around viciously.
A fake bunt and slash.
A switch to aggressive hitting.
The infielders were already charging forward to field the bunt.
The space behind the infield was as vast as the Pacific.
I pushed my bat speed to its absolute limit.
A fastball down the middle.
If it had been a pitch at the corner, hitting it would have been difficult, but the ball came in honest, carrying emotion with it.
Besides, the batting order had already cycled through once.
My eyes had adapted somewhat to that blazing fastball.
Crack!
A dull sound rang out.
It wasn’t a perfect hit.
The pitch had such velocity and movement that my bat was pushed back slightly.
This definitely meant the opponent was at a higher level.
But it didn’t matter.
My fast bat speed neutralized the ball’s force, and the batted ball scoffed past the advancing infielders’ sides.
“…!”
The Third Baseman charging out desperately dove, but the ball had already passed the tip of his glove and was rolling into the Outfield.
Though it was a weakly hit ball, it was enough to slice through the empty infield.
A clean single to left field.
As Victor Moretti stared at the batted ball with a deflated expression, I smoothly stepped on First Base.
The quagmire had now become a swamp that was swallowing the Pitcher whole.
* * *
“Woooooo!”
The Desert Dogs’ Dugout erupted with a roar that seemed ready to lift off.
It was a sight unimaginable under normal circumstances.
The Arizona Fall League is a place governed by strict individualism.
A stage where a player’s own stats matter far more than the team’s win or loss.
But now the players were cheering and high-fiving each other as if a World Series-clinching hit had just been struck.
The reason was simple.
‘Look at you now, prospect-turned-benchwarmer!’
All the arrogance and contempt that Victor Moretti had radiated until now.
The pride that had been crushed beneath that attitude finally burst open with Soo-ho’s single blow.
That giant whom everyone revered.
The one they could barely bring themselves to look at, now staggering after taking a hit.
That exhilarating catharsis had unified the selfish prospects into one.
And riding the wave of that electric momentum, another hunter entered the Batter’s Box, sensing prey.
‘As expected….’
The second batter—Casey.
He watched Soo-ho standing on First Base and clicked his tongue.
It was truly remarkable.
To be honest, Soo-ho’s raw baseball skill was completely outmatched by Victor’s.
In ten matchups, he’d lose nine.
But Soo-ho acted as though such a gap in ability wasn’t even a factor, and still managed to exploit his opponent.
‘It wasn’t a clean hit.’
Anyone could see that.
His timing was late, the bat got pushed back, and the poorly-struck ball had simply lucked through the infield defense.
‘But, what does it matter?’
Regardless of how it happened, Soo-ho had produced a hit against a prospect, no matter what anyone said.
And.
‘Now the real game begins.’
Casey’s lips curled upward.
Soo-ho’s strategy didn’t end with simply reaching base.
Rather, it was a far more vicious trap that only activated once he was on base.
‘If the first inning was reconnaissance, now we enter the main event.’
The moment Casey stepped into the Batter’s Box, he scraped his spikes roughly against the ground.
Scritch.
The sound of dirt being gouged.
Casey’s resolve, and his provocation toward the Pitcher.
‘Victor Moretti. I’ll admit he’s an exceptional Pitcher.’
Honestly, even someone like himself, lauded as a genius.
‘Would have slim odds of winning in a one-on-one matchup with no runners on base.’
It was a matter of experience.
Victor was two years older than Casey.
And those two years—physical development and experience.
—weren’t a gap easily closed.
But not anymore.
‘As long as Soo-ho is on First Base.’
Victor Moretti is no longer an impregnable fortress.
Below him.
Casey’s conviction immediately translated into action.
The Pitcher hesitated as he began his wind-up.
The Catcher rose and stepped aside.
Pitch out.
Victor threw the ball high.
It was an obvious pickoff attempt, mindful of my stolen base threat.
But I simply widened my lead slightly and jogged back to the base with ease, showing no intention of running.
“Ball!”
Casey swung the bat once and secured a favorable ball count.
Victor’s expression twisted.
He immediately threw to First Base.
Snap!
Pickoff attempt.
I slid lightly back to the base.
“Safe!”
Victor, still unsatisfied, threw another strong pickoff attempt.
Snap!
“Safe!”
Safe again.
The atmosphere in the Stadium shifted subtly.
Under Major League baseball rules, a Pitcher is limited to two pickoff attempts or step-offs per batter to hold a runner.
If a third pickoff attempt is made and the runner is not caught, it is declared a balk, and the runner automatically advances one Base.
‘So, what now?’
Casey exulted inwardly.
His pickoff opportunities were exhausted.
Now the Pitcher had no choice but to throw to him.
In other words, I could run whenever I wanted.
‘But I won’t run.’
My legs are insanely fast.
Victor Moretti’s quick motion is relatively fast, but the Catcher’s throwing ability leaves something to be desired.
So the matchup itself would be close, but I would break through that razor-thin margin and be safe.
But hadn’t Casey been certain?
I would never run.
‘Because simply succeeding at one stolen base isn’t enough to plunge the opponent into despair.’
Above all.
‘The Pitcher is more focused on the runner than the batter.’
Victor’s gaze kept drifting toward First Base instead of staying on Casey in the Batter’s Box.
Already, my mere presence on the Base was exerting greater pressure than I could from the Batter’s Box.
The Pitcher’s concentration was fractured.
That gap was an ocean wider than the Pacific to a genius like Casey.
‘Right now, you’re not a prospect for the Major League.’
You were merely a pitcher whose concentration had scattered.
Victor reluctantly threw the ball.
A slide step where he deliberately reduced his velocity to keep the Runner on First tied down.
Naturally, his stuff had to diminish.
Casey’s bat turned sharply.
Crack!
A crisp contact sound rang out as the ball cleanly split the Right-Center Field.
Soo-ho, stationed at First Base, broke into a sprint as if he’d been waiting for this moment.
With the speed of wind, he touched Second Base and raced unobstructed all the way to Third Base.
“Safe!”
And then.
“Safe!”
Runners on Second and Third, two outs.
Casey clenched his fist atop Second Base, looking down at the giant mired in the swamp of despair.
Next came Mark’s turn at bat.
He couldn’t believe what was unfolding before his eyes.
‘No way… is he really a magician?’
From start to finish.
Everything was happening exactly as Soo-ho intended.
If this wasn’t magic, what else could it be?
‘So I just…’
Need to stay still.
Soo-ho’s words from before the game echoed in his ears.
-If Casey’s play succeeds and we get runners on Second and Third, they’ll intentionally walk you to load the bases with two outs.
And so far, everything was happening exactly as Soo-ho had said.
‘We’re still in the early innings. Normally, an intentional walk to load the bases shouldn’t be done.’
In a typical situation, a pitcher would choose to increase the out count even at the cost of giving up a run.
With runners on Second and Third, any ground ball or fly ball results in a run, but in exchange, you get an out and clean up the inning—that’s the standard approach.
Forcing the bases to load risks the game blowing wide open, with one hit scoring two runs or an extra-base hit giving up three or more.
But.
‘We’re the unstoppable Low-A.’
Mark’s lips twisted into a smile.
The opponent was Victor Moretti, a man who lived on pride alone.
If word got out that a prospect had given up a run to mere Low-A players…
‘He’d become the laughingstock of the world.’
So he’d desperately want to keep it at ‘0 runs’.
To a pitcher who hates giving up even one run, runners on Second and Third are hell.
Even a ground ball would let the runner on Third score.
But when the bases are loaded, the situation changes entirely.
Every base enters a force-out state.
When an infield ground ball is hit, the fielder only needs to throw to Home Plate to record an out on the Runner on Third.
An out at Home Plate, then a throw to First Base for a potential double play—the perfect defensive alignment.
That is the bases-loaded strategy.
‘That pride of his, refusing to allow a single run to score….’
It was ultimately a trap I had laid.
Everything unfolded as expected.
Victor nodded to the Catcher.
The Catcher then rose awkwardly from his crouch and stepped back outside the box.
The Referee raised his hand at the sight.
“Intentional Walk!”
An automatic intentional walk.
Victor had avoided the confrontation with Mark.
No—he had drunk from the poisoned chalice to crush him more decisively.
Mark hurled his bat aside and trudged toward First Base.
Bases loaded with no outs.
The Stands erupted in restless murmurs.
A moment of absolute crisis, and simultaneously the most exhilarating opportunity in baseball.
Victor breathed heavily, his face drenched in sweat.
It was the first cold sweat he had shed in the Arizona Fall League.
Before his eyes now lay only a cliff with nowhere left to retreat.
And.
The final batter who would push him from that precipice was stepping into the box.
For this moment alone, he had set aside his pride and joined hands with me and my allies.
Liam.
He gripped the bat and took his stance in the Batter’s Box.

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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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