The Genius Pitcher Dad Throws for His Daughter - Chapter 110

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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 110
#110.
Crack—!
“Out!”
The ball reached First Base faster than the batter, and the First Base umpire’s call rang out.
The batter trudged into the Dugout with a disappointed expression, and I caught the ball that had come back through the infield, waiting for the next batter.
Being a left-handed pitcher, I had a clear view of the opposing team’s Dugout, and I could see Hee-su tucked away in one corner, trying to hide.
When our eyes met, his face shifted to one of feigned innocence, and I let out a quiet laugh, asking if he was serious.
He immediately shook his head and started playing dumb.
I owed Hee-su my gratitude for the Kick Changeup I’d acquired. The system had helped, certainly, but without his assistance, it would have been impossible.
So today, I threw the changeup as my strikeout pitch.
Against left-handed batters, I threw the Kick Changeup, showcasing vertical and horizontal movement, forcing them to chase a wide arc that dropped toward their body; against right-handed batters, I threw the Circle Changeup, making it fall away on the outside.
Interspersed throughout were Vulcan Changeups as well.
Slower than the Four-Seam Fastball but faster than other changeups, the sharp drop caused the batter’s bat to miss.
Tick—!
The ball struck off the Vulcan Changeup rolled toward me.
I calmly fielded it and threw to First Base, then turned my back without watching the result, moving toward the Dugout.
“Kang Ho-jin! Kang Ho-jin! Kang Ho-jin!”
The fans’ cheers told me the outcome.
My seniors passed me as I walked, moving faster and tapping my backside as they went by.
But one person alone stood beside me and walked together.
“Ho-jin. I’m dying….”
Choi Ji-ho, the Second Base player, spoke to me with a truly exhausted expression.
“Senior, you’ve got this.”
“Ugh….”
The reason my senior was dying was simple.
My current stats were five innings, no runs allowed, one hit.
In other words, out of fifteen outs, a full nine had been hit toward Second Base, and Choi Ji-ho was throwing his body around left and right to catch them.
The evidence was his uniform, noticeably dirtier than the other seniors’.
Dirt clung to both his upper and lower body, and while it might seem dirty anywhere else, here in the Baseball Stadium it was nothing short of a badge of honor.
“Good work. Ji-ho. Make sure you get them all.”
“You’re moving well today. Keep grinding through the remaining innings.”
My senior could offer no rebuttal to the Defensive Coach and Senior Coach, only shouting his acknowledgment.
Having thrown his body around almost like infield practice, my senior’s record stood at two at-bats, no hits.
His recent batting form had declined somewhat, but with all the diving around on defense, he couldn’t focus on hitting.
Still, I was grateful enough that he’d cleanly stopped everything without a single error so far.
“Senior, you can let them through.”
Choi Ji-ho’s face shifted to one of shock at my words.
Then he shook his head, trembled, and spoke.
“Get beaten to death by Busan fans? No way, absolutely not.”
Five innings pitched, no runs allowed. Zero hits. One walk. That’s my current record.
Since I’ve been inducing ground balls from the first inning, my senior teammates’ defensive focus has been exceptional.
That’s good, but honestly, I’d prefer if we scored at least one run.
‘I didn’t earn points last time.’
To earn points for my Daughter, I need to become the winning pitcher, but so far I’ve only achieved one of the two conditions for a win.
The remaining condition depends on the other batters’ hands, not mine, so all I can do is trust and wait.
‘Anyway, my pitch count is definitely low today.’
Usually after finishing five innings, fatigue accumulates.
Regardless of how many pitches I throw, it’s natural to feel exhausted after battling hitters for over an hour.
But today I’ve thrown 43 pitches, averaging about 8.6 per inning.
If things continue this way, I should be able to finish nine innings with fewer than 80 pitches.
‘Of course, that’s if things continue this way.’
But that’s probably impossible.
The Dragons’ batting lineup has already stopped their aggressive hitting and changed their approach.
“Strike!”
I throw the first pitch and the batter just watches it.
Seeing him follow the ball all the way, I throw the next pitch wondering if something’s off, and he just watches that one too.
“Strike! Two!”
In that situation, I pull out my changeup as the finishing pitch, and as if he’d been waiting for it, the bat swings.
Tick—!
But he doesn’t time it right, and the poorly-hit ball heads directly toward the shortstop.
Choi Ji-ho reaches out to catch it and is about to throw to first base with ease.
Slip.
The ball slips right through his hands and falls to the ground, and by the time he desperately tries to throw it, the batter has already passed first base.
“Ah….”
Sighs escape from the Dolphins Dugout and the fans.
It’s the kind of sigh that comes from a defensive error that crumbles the momentum we’d been building, tinged with regret.
“Waaaa!”
But the Dragons fans let out cheers of joy.
With a chance coming with no outs, they seem fired up with the expectation that they might finally get to score the first run against Kang Ho-jin, who has no losses or earned runs all season.
“I, I’m sorry.”
Those are the words of Choi Ji-ho as he hands me the ball.
I tell my senior it’s fine. There was no perfect game anyway, and I say it’s just part of the game, truly fine.
“No, but still.”
Even though it’s officially recorded as an error, my senior keeps apologizing.
“Then, if you’re really sorry, please give it your all next inning.”
“Y, yes I will.”
After sending my senior back, I take the mound and signal to Myung-su.
Nod.
I’ve been throwing mostly changeups so far, but now I’m signaling that I’ll switch to using a variety of pitches to counter them.
And the opposing team, rather than measuring and adjusting their pitching while observing the first and second pitches, decided to pull out their original aggressive pitching strategy.
So against the next batter, I went straight into my windup and planted a four-seam fastball down the middle.
– 158 km.
Satisfied with the velocity displayed on the Scoreboard, I threw another one right down the middle.
“Strike! Two!”
This time too, as I went into my windup, the runner on First Base frowned in displeasure, and the batter spat and took his stance.
So I pressed the pitch comm firmly.
Four-seam fastball, upper outside.
A pitch that caught the edge of the Strike Zone, aimed at a distant spot for a right-handed batter.
And this was a sign that Myung-su and I had created separately.
That sign was, in other words, this.
“Whoosh!”
As I threw the ball with force, the batter extended his bat as if he’d been waiting, but the pitch at eye level was unexpected, resulting in a whiff, and Myung-su caught it and immediately threw to Second Base.
“Swing! Batter out!”
“Out!”
The batter struck out, and the runner was out on the throw.
The Dragons’ lineup fell perfectly into the play that Myung-su and I had arranged beforehand, and what had been no outs with a runner on First Base instantly became two outs.
The Dragons’ Cheering Section, where the support captain and cheerleaders had been bouncing around encouraging the crowd, fell silent, and the voices cheering from the Dugout disappeared as well.
Instead, a tremendous roar erupted from the Dolphins’ Cheering Section.
To keep their joyful cheers from turning to disappointment, I pulled out a slider, struck out the batter on three pitches, and came down from the Mound.
Now I’d thrown 52 pitches, and with 3 innings remaining, I felt incredibly comfortable.
Frankly, even if the opposing lineup didn’t swing at all, that’s 27 pitches, so I could finish with 79 total.
So, feeling my abundant stamina, I calmly prepared for the next inning.
Crack!
And Choi Ji-ho kept the promise he’d made with me.
Leading off, Choi Ji-ho produced a line drive through left-center field, reaching Second Base in an instant. Not satisfied with that, he stole Third Base in one go without a sign from the Bench, then scored on an outfield fly.
“Is that how you paid back the debt?!”
I laughed and shouted at my senior as he approached with a triumphant expression.
“Yes, Senior. That was excellent.”
And so today’s game ended with my victory.
9 innings, no runs allowed, 81 pitches thrown, 5 strikeouts, 2 walks, 1 hit allowed.
If I’d gotten a win instead of a no-decision in the last game, this would have been my fourth consecutive complete shutout, but unfortunately that record disappeared and I’m starting fresh.
Still, today I was selected as the Player of the Game and earned points.
This alone is enough.
It’s the most fundamental reason I play baseball.
* * *
After the game, at a meat restaurant near Jamsil Baseball Stadium.
There I met Byun Hee-su with Se-jin.
“Your ball got even better.”
“It’s all thanks to you, hyung.”
I clinked my water glass against the glass my senior was holding with beer in it.
Se-jin filled his empty glass and spoke from beside me.
“After Jin-heo, then Myung-hwan, and now you—is that the end of it?”
He was saying that even though we hadn’t faced them directly, we’d beaten that team using the pitch types they throw as their main weapons, so wasn’t that like a disciple surpassing his master?
“But I didn’t actually pitch against Myung-hwan, did I?”
“You didn’t lose either.”
“That’s true.”
“Then you won. It means you’ve caught up to your master.”
Hee-su spoke as if Se-jin’s words were absurd.
“What nonsense.”
He emptied his glass as if just making conversation, then popped a perfectly cooked piece of beef into his mouth.
Tonight’s gathering was nothing special.
Just like with Jin-heo, Si-jin teased Hee-su, I laughed watching it and joined in, got cursed at, then sided with Hee-su instead and got cursed at by Se-jin too.
Spending time like this with others after a game felt incredibly strange and mysterious.
On the other hand, discovering that there was this kind of fun within baseball made me realize that baseball as an existence was teaching me so many things.
Comparing the baseball I played before returning to the past with the baseball now, this pure enjoyment seems to be the right way.
As I spent a long time laughing and chattering like that, suddenly fear gripped me.
‘Is this okay?’
The System didn’t want me to be happy.
Last time when I was thinking I was a little happy, my fingertips tingled, and then when I felt that tingling sensation, after I became aware that I’d returned to the past, I pitched the worst game of my life.
Without realizing it, I looked at my hands and felt no tingling sensation.
‘Is this level okay?’
Unable to understand the System’s unpredictable movements, I refocused on my seniors’ conversation with the thought that it should be fine.
The next day.
I understood.
The System still didn’t want me to be happy.
During the third game of the midweek three-game series, I received an urgent call.
“Player Kang Ho-jin. Your Daughter has taken a critical turn….”
Before I could even finish hearing those words, I bolted from the Dugout and rushed toward the Hospital where my Daughter was.

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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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