The Genius Hitter Who Conquered America - Chapter 87

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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 87
A chill permeated the Locker Room as the All-Star Game loomed ahead.
‘The atmosphere is definitely different.’
I set my gear down at the locker bearing my name and slowly surveyed my surroundings.
Some familiar faces dotted the room, but most wore uniforms from opposing teams—strangers to my eyes.
Yet their statistics were no mystery to me.
My gaze first locked onto a powerfully built Black player.
‘Nicks.’
In the Arizona Fall League, he boasted a .312 batting average with an OPS of 0.98.
Among the entire Minor League system, he ranked among the top five power hitters.
With those monstrous forearms driving the bat, even poorly struck balls would sail over the fence—a true monster.
My attention shifted sideways.
This time, a lean Latin player caught my eye.
‘Jose.’
His batting average hovered in the low .200s, but his on-base percentage approached .400.
More than anything, his legs were his primary weapon—once on base, he drained the very soul from pitchers.
And in the corner, a blonde pitcher with earbuds in, shadow pitching against the wall.
‘And Ethan’s here too.’
A fireballer who hurled 98-mile-per-hour fastballs as casually as breathing.
The Arizona Fall League’s strikeout leader this season.
A left-handed prospect hailed as someone even Major League hitters couldn’t touch on his good days.
I let out a low whistle.
Every single one of them was an elite prospect—the future cornerstone of their respective teams.
Not a single pushover in this room.
Within this suffocating atmosphere, some sat with eyes closed in meditation, while others polished their bats, sharpening their killer instinct.
My gaze then drifted to those flanking me.
Mark and Casey came into view.
Just thirty minutes ago, riding to the Stadium in the car, they’d been laughing and joking without a care in the world.
But not anymore.
Tap. Tap.
Mark wrapped tape around his wrist in silence.
Normally, he’d nudge my shoulder and tease, “Nervous?” with that characteristic smirk.
Now he stared at his equipment without moving, his eyes cold and sunken.
Casey was the same.
He pulled his shoelaces tight, eyes fixed downward.
The easy smile that always graced his face had vanished, replaced by sharp, cutting intensity.
‘Everyone’s serious, as expected.’
Laughter was a luxury.
This was a stage where Major League scouts watched with burning eyes, a testing ground where we had to prove our worth.
It was a battlefield where we had to survive among these monsters and prove we were the best.
Suddenly, Soo-ho felt a warmth bloom in his chest.
‘This is fun.’
He didn’t dislike this savage atmosphere.
If anything, his blood was boiling.
To claim first place among these monsters.
‘But I’m not without confidence.’
Perhaps because he’d already hit rock bottom once?
The worst that could happen was breaking even.
If he performed well, it would be a windfall.
Since there was nowhere to go but up, he felt no pressure.
Right then.
Someone walked over and draped an arm across Soo-ho’s shoulder.
“How are the guys holding up?”
The owner of that gruff voice was Liam.
When he’d first seen him, Liam had looked like he’d throw a punch at any moment.
But after spending weeks together, he’d come to seem like nothing more than a foolish neighborhood older brother.
Liam flashed a friendly smile and glanced at Mark and Casey.
But.
“….”
“….”
All that came back was silence.
Mark remained focused on taping his wrist, while Casey stood motionless like someone counting the patterns on the floor.
It wasn’t that they were ignoring him.
They simply couldn’t hear him.
Their minds were already consumed by those three letters—MVP—lost in a state of complete absorption.
Liam scratched the back of his head awkwardly.
“These guys are seriously intense.”
To spare him further embarrassment, Soo-ho spoke up instead.
“How’s your condition, Liam?”
“Mine? Always good. How about you?”
Soo-ho gave a slight shrug and answered matter-of-factly.
“I’m doing fine.”
The moment those brief words left his lips.
The air in the Locker Room rippled subtly.
Soo-ho didn’t see it, but he sensed that the surrounding players had flinched.
The Pitcher doing shadow pitching froze mid-motion, and the batter polishing his bat slowed his hands.
And Liam’s expression shifted in an instant.
The carefree neighborhood brother vanished without a trace, leaving only the sharp gaze of a competitor.
He too no longer saw Soo-ho as merely a teammate.
Liam lowered his voice and asked.
“So. What’s the game plan for today?”
At that question, I knew for certain.
I didn’t need to look around to understand it.
Every ear in this Locker Room was turned toward me.
Even Mark and Casey, who had been lost in meditation, were perking up their ears.
‘Things have changed.’
This would have been unimaginable in the past.
Whether an unknown player from Low-A spoke or stayed silent, no one would have cared.
But now it was different.
I had become the batter these geniuses here had to watch out for most.
They all wore the same Team uniform as me, yet simultaneously viewed me as their greatest rival.
‘Not bad at all.’
I let a slight smile play at the corners of my mouth.
It was the complete opposite of my past, when I was treated as invisible.
This weighty caution and attention suited me quite well.
Which was exactly why I couldn’t reveal anything.
“It’s a secret.”
I said it plainly.
There was no reason to show my hand.
Today was a day when I had to shine brighter than anyone else.
Normally, I was a player who prioritized the team’s victory above all.
‘But not today.’
Today was a game where individual performance mattered more than team victory.
Baseball was a team sport, but today was purely an individual competition.
At my firm refusal, Liam let out a deep sigh.
“Damn it… we’re on the same team! We’re stronger together! Come on, share the strategy!”
“Liam. Your intentions are too transparent.”
“Ah, so they are. My attempt at deception failed.”
Liam grinned and extended his fist.
“Anyway, I’m not losing today.”
“Neither am I.”
I bumped my fist against Liam’s.
Thunk.
With that dull collision, our fighting spirit was exchanged.
Just then, the Locker Room door swung open.
The Team Leader who would command this monstrous group of prospects for the day appeared.
He swept his gaze across the room and delivered a short, forceful command.
“Showtime. Let’s go.”
That no-nonsense order became the signal.
Rustle.
Mark and Casey were the first to react, their forms rigid as statues until that moment.
As if bound by an unspoken pact, they surged to their feet in unison.
Their eyes, now awakened from their trance, gleamed with the predatory intensity of hunters who had spotted their prey.
Without a backward glance, they strode purposefully toward the door.
Liam and the other teammates followed in their wake, gathering their equipment before filing out in a rush.
Soo-ho drew a deep breath as well.
He inhaled the cool air of the Locker Room deep into his lungs, then pressed his cap firmly onto his head one final time.
‘Let’s show them.’
No longer a KBO failure.
The Oh Soo-ho of Low-A no longer exists here.
Today, I will prove who shines brightest on this ground.
With resolute determination etched across his face, Soo-ho stepped toward the Ground, where the roar of the crowd thundered.
* * *
The lights in the Broadcast Booth flickered to life.
The broadcast booth commanded a panoramic view of the entire Ground below.
Two impeccably dressed middle-aged men beamed broadly at the camera.
[Good evening, baseball fans around the world. We greet you from beneath Arizona’s scorching sun. I’m Tom Brennan, the Caster for the AFL Fall Stars Game broadcast!]
[And I’m Rick O’Neill, providing commentary.]
Tom Brennan and Rick O’Neill.
Their mere appearance compelled viewers before their screens to sit up straighter.
Who were these men?
Tom Brennan was America’s preeminent national Caster, the exclusive voice of Major League World Series broadcasts.
And what of Rick O’Neill, seated beside him?
A legendary Pitcher who had amassed 300 wins during his playing career and been inducted into the Hall of Fame, he was now the most expensive and acerbic Commentator in the business.
Typically, Fall Stars Games were handled by regional broadcasters or Minor League commentary teams.
Yet here were these two marquee names from prime-time national broadcasts, having flown all the way to Arizona?
The reason was unmistakable.
The stakes had grown exponentially.
This was no longer merely a showcase of promising prospects—it had become a colossal event commanding the attention of the entire nation.
Broadcasting networks had an uncanny nose for the scent of money.
The weight of a Major League regular season hung heavy over the broadcast booth.
Tom opened the broadcast with barely contained excitement.
[Rick, the atmosphere in the Stadium today is extraordinary. I heard tickets sold out within ten minutes of going on sale.]
[How could they not? Look at the roster of players on that Ground. They may be prospects in name, but these are the kinds of athletes who could be called up to the Big League tomorrow and immediately claim starting positions. It’s essentially a preview of the future All-Star Game.]
Rick chuckled heartily and waved the starting lineup sheet before the camera.
His words rang true.
Today’s game would pit the six teams participating in the Arizona Fall League against each other, divided into two All-Star teams representing the East and West—a genuine battle of the highest caliber.
Tom gazed at the camera as he explained the matchup.
[Today’s game will be contested between Team West and Team East divisions.]
The logos of each team scrolled across the bottom of the screen as a caption.
[Team West takes the field first—the home team. The Glendale Desert Dogs, Peoria Javelinas, and Surprise Saguaros have united their brightest prospects.]
[On the opposing side, Team East—the visiting squad—brings together the Scottsdale Scorpions, Mesa Solar Sox, and Salt River Rafters.]
The structure was straightforward.
Yet the caliber of players within it was anything but simple.
[Before we delve into the details, let’s review the lineups. Starting with the visiting team.]
1. Ricky Velez. CF.
2. Alex Cole. SS.
3. Dante Rossi. RF.
4. Benjamin King. 1B.
5. Tyrone Jones. 3B.
6. Lucas Meyer. DH.
7. Juan Perez. LF.
8. Sam Porter. C.
9. Sato Kenji. 2B.
P. Victor Moretti.
[And now, the home team.]
1. Jose Rivera. LF.
2. Oh Soo-ho. CF.
3. Casey Meyer. 3B.
4. Mark Williams. 1B.
5. Nix Carter. SS.
6. Liam Henricks. DH.
7. Jake Thompson. SS.
8. William Chan. C.
9. Carlos Mendez. RF.
P. Ethan Worf.
The Caster’s voice rose to a crescendo, filling the broadcast booth with electricity.
[What do you make of this matchup?]
[Honestly, there’s no point in further commentary right now. Let’s see what unfolds on the field.]
“Play ball!”
As the Referee’s call echoed through the stadium, the game that would determine a historic rise in fortune finally began.

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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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