The Genius Pitcher Dad Throws for His Daughter - Chapter 14

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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 14
#14.
I arrived in Gyeongbuk Gyeongsan to face the Daegu Salamanders.
Since this was another away game, we departed early in the morning, but the distance was short, so we arrived quickly.
Thanks to that, I had plenty of time to warm up before the game started, and I appreciated the extended period to focus alone.
My preparation against the Salamanders’ batters today was nothing special.
‘Make aggressive use of my improved fastball.’
My fastball velocity right now is quite impressive.
Even I could feel it was good when I threw it, and Kang Do-bin, my senior who caught those pitches, voiced his approval.
“Excellent! Really excellent. Better than Kevin’s.”
For reference, Kevin is our 1st Team’s foreign pitcher.
He’s a pitcher who throws a fastball reaching a top velocity of 157 km/h, a splitter with minimal velocity differential, and a changeup—a pitcher who once earned 2 wins in 3 games even in Major League Baseball.
Kevin is called top-tier in the KBO for his fastball alone, but recently he’s barely thrown his splitter, so he’s become estranged from winning.
“Come on, senior. That’s not fair.”
Kevin’s fastball RPM easily exceeds 2,400.
That fastball’s movement is so devastating that batters can’t hit it even knowing it’s coming, and from the start of the pennant race until now, over a month later, he hasn’t given up a home run on his fastball.
Compared to such a monster, I’m still far too lacking.
In any case, Kang Do-bin and I designed today’s pitching strategy centered around that fastball.
‘They’re probably thinking I’m the type of pitcher who throws wild pitches carelessly.’
They’ve likely heard about the game details from my recent outing against Sangmu.
Yet the reason they won’t easily change their approach is precisely because this is the 2nd Team stage. Every player here is someone who heard “baseball prodigy” at least once during their high school days.
There are days like that sometimes.
Days when you awaken without realizing it, days when you produce far greater results than usual.
I can tell by looking at the Salamanders’ batters’ eyes.
An expression as if they’ve already won.
A face saying today’s game will be easy.
Already relaxed as if they’ve already secured victory.
If you don’t ignite your will watching that attitude, you’re not a pitcher.
“Play ball!”
With the Umpire’s declaration, our batters visited the Batter’s Box one after another.
And they all rang the doorbell and waited for the homeowner to appear, then turned their backs, thinking the house was empty, and returned to the Dugout.
Three outs.
Moreover, all three were strikeouts without even touching the pitcher’s ball.
Whether it was good pitch recognition or an inability to swing the bat, they saw 11 pitches instead of 9, so I didn’t give up a perfect inning.
“Let’s go.”
“Yes, hyung. Please take care of it.”
“Got it.”
Now it was my turn to visit the Mound.
“Hah!”
As I stepped onto the Mound, the opposing team’s Dugout came into view.
They still regard me with a dismissive expression, their faces relaxed and unbothered. The batters stepping into the Batter’s Box and those waiting in the On-deck Circle mirror that same attitude.
Facing such an opponent, I deliberately threw the ball with minimal effort, conserving my stamina.
Crack!
I casually threw a few pitches to find my range.
Kang Do-bin, receiving the first pitch, tilted his head quizzically. I signaled with my eyes toward the opposing team’s Dugout, and catching my meaning, my senior glanced over before nodding in understanding.
After throwing a few warm-up pitches, I waited for the Umpire’s call.
Once the batter stepped into the Batter’s Box and signaled readiness, the call came.
“Play ball.”
The moment that cry echoed, I unleashed the ball toward the Catcher’s glove with the force of lightning.
Whoosh!
Full power from the first pitch.
A four-seam fastball with velocity exceeding what I’d thrown against the Sangmu Team, refined through personal practice, cut straight through the heart of the Strike Zone.
“Strike!”
With the Umpire’s declaration, the batter’s gaze shifted toward the scoreboard.
149 kilometers per hour.
The batter, overwhelmed by the sheer dominance of the pitch, couldn’t mount any response.
“What?!”
Even the opposing team’s players watching from the Dugout gasped in shock.
Despite throwing just one pitch, the reactions rippling through the stadium were so visible, so tangible—it was exhilarating.
‘They clearly didn’t prepare properly… I think there’s only one phrase fitting for this.’
Time to feast.
* * *
“Swing! Batter out!”
At the Umpire’s call, the batter retreated from the Batter’s Box with a bewildered expression.
He then described the pitch he’d just witnessed to the next batter.
“Damn, that’s insanely good.”
“What?!”
Since the leadoff batter was far senior to the second batter, the latter couldn’t ask further questions and simply stepped into the Batter’s Box.
‘This doesn’t match what I heard at all.’
The seniors had told me his control was terrible, that most of his pitches sailed outside the Strike Zone rather than within it. They’d said to wait patiently and let him self-destruct.
“Strike!”
“Strike two!”
Both pitches I’d simply watched sailed through the Strike Zone, and the count mounted instantly.
Now I had to swing at anything in the zone. Otherwise, I could foul off pitches to extend the at-bat, or try to put the ball in play on the infield and rely on my legs—far more valuable than raw hitting ability.
As I waited and the pitcher released the ball, I recognized it.
‘A four-seam!’
He wasn’t treating me as a pushover—this was six straight pitches in the zone, three in a row to me and three before to my predecessor. He was clearly giving me something to hit, so I swung.
Whoosh!
But my bat cut through empty air, not the ball.
“Swing! Batter out.”
A pitch that felt impossibly far from a right-handed batter’s perspective.
I’d been completely fooled by the circle changeup that came toward the center of the strike zone before dropping to the outside and lower half.
“Damn!”
A bitter curse escaped my lips, and I relayed what I’d just seen to my senior in the On-deck Circle.
“His fastball is insane, and his changeup is even more insane.”
“Huh? You’re not just scared, are you?”
“No, sir. The pitches are genuinely excellent.”
“Ha, must’ve been a fluke.”
Ignoring my junior’s warning, Noh Ji-hwan walked toward the Batter’s Box with a smirk plastered across his face.
He gripped his bat in one hand while clutching his side with the other, rubbing it as if in pain—as though his body still ached from that pitch I’d thrown days ago.
Seeing the pitcher’s expression stiffen slightly, Noh Ji-hwan let out a quiet laugh.
‘Bastard. Now that pitch that hit me will be on his mind, won’t it?’
Noh Ji-hwan was playing mind games.
His strategy was to make the pitcher recall that hit-by-pitch, making him conscious of it. This psychological tactic worked surprisingly well and proved quite effective against 2nd Team pitchers, so he used it frequently.
‘Let’s see how well you pitch now.’
Noh Ji-hwan stepped into the left-handed Batter’s Box with a subtle smile.
Rather than tensing his grip on the bat, he relaxed and focused on tracking the ball, all while mentally preparing to dodge quickly if it came toward his body.
“Let’s see what you’ve got.”
The moment he took his stance, I saw Kang Ho-jin release the pitch.
Watching the ball come toward him, he thought the mind games had worked—then suddenly panicked and dropped to the ground.
“Whoa!”
He flinched away from what appeared to be a pitch heading for his head, but the Umpire’s call was completely unexpected.
“Strike!”
“What?! Strike?”
Noh Ji-hwan stared in disbelief.
But the Umpire’s expression was resolute, and the Catcher simply tossed the ball back to the pitcher as if nothing was amiss.
“But that just came at my head, didn’t it?”
Noh Ji-hwan protested loudly, his voice dripping with indignation. The Umpire’s face turned cold as he responded.
“It didn’t. It came right through the Strike Zone. Get back in the box.”
Despite his frustration at such a firm ruling, when the Bench signaled him to return to the Batter’s Box, Noh Ji-hwan stepped back in with a face full of resentment.
‘That bastard! Whatever he’s doing, I won’t fall for it this time.’
Though he didn’t know exactly what was happening, his pride had been wounded by dodging that pitch and arguing with the Umpire. Noh Ji-hwan gritted his teeth as he resumed his stance.
The second pitch came, and this time, seeing what looked like a pitch down the middle, he swung without hesitation.
Whoosh—!
“Strike two!”
As the Umpire’s call rang out, Noh Ji-hwan’s face flushed even deeper with disbelief.
‘What kind of fastball is this… it doesn’t drop at all?!’
Now he understood what the first batter and second batter meant when they called his pitches insane.
Experiencing it firsthand, it was no joke.
The velocity was blazing, the movement was sharp—there was no way he could hit this easily.
And the moment that thought took root in my mind, I understood.
‘I’ve been had.’
It was I who had fallen victim to the psychological warfare, and I who was paying the price for underestimating Kang Ho-jin.
Whoosh—!
“Swing! Batter’s out!”
Three strikes, three outs.
And having flawlessly shut down batters one through three with precisely nine pitches to achieve a perfect inning, Kang Ho-jin descended from the Mound with a satisfied grin.
And there stood Noh Ji-hwan, watching that retreating figure with a bitter expression.
* * *
To be honest, that was how I felt.
‘This leaves a bad taste.’
I could understand why the Daegu Salamanders batters seemed to be looking down on me.
But watching the third batter, Noh Ji-hwan, come up and clutch his side as if in pain brought back memories I’d nearly forgotten.
Back then, I’d been hit by a wild pitch and apologized respectfully on the spot, but since he didn’t see it, he came to find me after the game and demanded I apologize as if picking a fight.
When another senior player told him I’d already apologized, he simply turned away without a word, acting as though nothing had happened.
So I threw a curve on the first pitch.
A curve that traced a path as if flying toward his body—but thrown from an angle that was neither overhand nor three-quarter, creating the perfect illusion that it was heading for his head.
That curve sailed mockingly past his body and into the Strike Zone, and with his pride wounded, I finished him off with two fastballs, completing my revenge from back then.
My chest felt light and refreshed.

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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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