The Genius Pitcher Dad Throws for His Daughter - Chapter 35

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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 35
#35.
The ball slips from my grip.
‘Ah, I’m really not feeling it today.’
I could sense it from the warm-up itself.
My shoulders feel heavy, and my arm won’t rise properly. I stretched the same way I always do, and I haven’t neglected my conditioning in any significant way.
Yet my grip on the ball feels dull. The sensation of the seams catching on my fingers comes later than usual.
Despite all this, I hear a sound echoing in my ears.
“Kim Se-jin! Kim Se-jin!”
My name rolls through the air like a wave, burrowing into my ears, and because of it, my heart pounds wildly. This feeling—I could never experience it anywhere but here at Sajik Baseball Stadium.
“Haaah….”
I steady my breathing and release the pitch.
“Strike!”
This time, my control was true.
Of course, I can’t call it perfect. It landed slightly away from where I intended, but seeing the batter fail to react tells me it was an unexpected pitch.
‘I’m past the age where I can rely on pure velocity.’
In truth, even including the KBO and other leagues, thirty-two isn’t considered particularly old.
But Kim Se-jin, who spent years throwing to claim that one spot on the Dolphins’ Mound, endured overwork that was anything but gentle, and unlike other pitchers my age, I’m aging rapidly.
I can’t overwhelm young players with raw velocity anymore.
My shoulders and elbows, worn down over the years, no longer produce the speed they once did, and even my wrist—which I’ve been compensating with—now aches constantly.
Yet the reason I can still survive on the Mound is thanks to the mental fortitude I’ve built up, my experience, and the veteran’s instinct to read the flow of the game.
Perhaps that’s why.
Today, the fans’ cheers feel strangely melancholic.
“Huu….”
I take a deep breath and survey my surroundings.
The leadoff batter fidgets at First Base, testing the waters, the batter in the Batter’s Box wears a confident expression, and from the Third Base Cheering Section, I hear supporters calling out as if a hit is inevitable.
It’s fine.
I’m used to it.
If anything, compared to the quiet early season when fans were scarce, I feel strength coursing through me now.
I threw with all my might for the fans who came to the Baseball Stadium today, but then I realized.
‘Ah….’
The worst possible mistake.
The Catcher had called for an inside pitch, but it drifted toward the center and sailed high, and the batter, as expected, crushed it.
Crack—!
At the sound of a home run—something I haven’t heard in a while—my head drops.
I’ve given up dozens of home runs over the years, but I still haven’t grown accustomed to it. Especially now, aged and lacking both velocity and control, watching someone hit my pitch fills me with even greater regret.
But it’s fine.
The game has only just begun.
The win doesn’t matter anyway. All I hope for is to minimize runs allowed and pitch deep into the game.
That’s my role as the team’s veteran pitcher, and it’s also for the juniors who will carry us forward.
Alone, I steadied myself and began preparing to throw from the Mound once more.
With no runners on base now, I could only pitch with everything I had.
“Strike!”
I caught the returning ball and waited for the Catcher’s sign again.
I nodded at the request coming through the pitch com and took my stance.
Crack—!
Watching the batter reach First Base with a short hit, Kim Se-jin realized something.
‘This is the worst day yet….’
It was the worst pitching of the season, a day when nothing went according to plan.
His bitter expression was broadcast live to the television audience.
The next batter stepped up.
“Ball! Walk!”
A straight walk put runners on First and Second Base.
“Hah….”
I breathed heavily and threw the ball to face the next batter, then realized it was over.
Crack—!
Five runs in the first inning alone.
Without recording a single out, I had no choice but to leave the Mound with the worst pitching performance of my career.
“Ah….”
At the sighs emanating from the Stands, Kim Se-jin couldn’t lift his head.
The ace who had taken the Mound countless times over the past decade as a homegrown star, unable to overcome the passage of time—the fans couldn’t help but have tears welling in their eyes.
* * *
After Kim Se-jin came down, the game exploded.
The one who hurriedly warmed up and took the mound was Senior Pitcher Kim Da-hu.
At the same time, in the Bullpen, Senior Pitcher Baek Ji-ha and Senior Pitcher Ahn Byung-ho were warming up together.
Just two weeks ago, they had been the core of the Clutch Team, but since then they had failed to repay the faith placed in them, and mistakes had caused the Manager to completely mark them down.
From the Clutch Team to loss relief.
Adapting to their suddenly reversed fortune, they gritted their teeth and threw the ball.
As if defying the Manager, as if insisting their true place was where they belonged, not here.
But reality was merciless.
Crack—!
Senior Pitcher Kim Da-hu’s three-run homer.
Senior Pitcher Baek Ji-ha’s two-run homer.
Senior Pitcher Ahn Byung-ho’s back-to-back home runs.
While they managed the Mound, a staggering seven runs were scored, and the scoreboard became a devastating 12 to 0.
“….”
The Dugout was silent as a tomb.
Just before the game started, everyone had been buzzing with anticipation for a nine-game winning streak. Moreover, with the team dinner scheduled after tomorrow’s game, the momentum was such that a ten-game streak seemed within reach.
But today was the day that brought Our Team back to reality.
The recent good atmosphere aside, our pitching staff was originally the weakest compared to the other nine organizations.
The two foreign pitchers who had been sealing away their main weapons, Kim Se-jin Senior, who had declined with age and couldn’t perform at his previous level, and the fourth and fifth starters—they were all at a level that other teams wouldn’t even use.
But was the Bullpen strong? Not a chance.
The pitchers who had been playing in the Clutch Team were called up and gave away a staggering seven runs in succession. They managed to scrape through each inning, but since they conceded runs every single frame, you could tell just how weak they were.
Some of the Bullpen pitchers who hadn’t played in a while had warmed up properly beforehand, and they were somehow managing to get through the innings, but by the seventh inning with that kind of score, it felt clear that winning the game was no longer feasible.
“Phew… the atmosphere is pretty tense.”
“Really…. I’ve never seen it this bad before?”
“Shh. Just keep your mouth shut and stay quiet for now. If the seniors need anything, move fast.”
The three of us whispered quietly, then glanced around to gauge the mood.
All we could do in this situation was hand towels to the seniors when they returned from defense or make sure they had drinks.
We moved about busily, doing our best to keep the seniors comfortable, and as the game continued, voices could be heard from the Stands.
“Ugh, figures you’d play like that.”
“Coming to the Baseball Stadium was stupid of me.”
“Argh! So frustrating. Let’s just go.”
“We should go to a Bar and drink comfortably instead.”
“What glory am I supposed to enjoy by coming here?”
I could see spectators gradually leaving the Stands.
The fans who had been in the Outfield and Third Base areas had already left en masse long ago.
There were still quite a few people remaining near the First Base Cheering Section, hoping to at least see the cheerleaders, but as each inning passed, they too began packing up and leaving one by one.
The ones who were delighted were the Serpent fans in the Third Base Cheering Section.
Thinking they’d already won the game, they watched with leisure—it was almost irritating to see.
Everyone was holding their breath and watching carefully when I heard the Manager’s voice from beside me.
“Don’t lose focus, everyone. Even in a losing game, we need to show we’re doing our best.”
Some of the starting players were being given rest.
Given the nature of the 144-game pennant race, any active player knew that taking rest when you could was the right call.
But there was no one sprawling about in the Dugout or heading into the Locker Room.
Everyone understood that the Manager wanted them to stay in the Dugout and at least shout encouragement, so voices gradually began to emerge from the previously silent Dugout.
“Come on! Get your heads in the game.”
“We’re losing, but it’s not over yet.”
“Don’t just stand there—let’s shout some encouragement.”
“Let’s at least score one run.”
It was our turn to bat in the bottom of the seventh.
Our batters hadn’t scored, but we did manage to get a runner on Base.
The cheering started with the determination to score at least one run.
Crack!
Perhaps thanks to the Manager’s sharp words and the team’s encouragement.
The first batter hit the first pitch and easily reached First Base.
“Oh! Nice!”
“Great hit, Captain!”
“That’s it!”
With Captain Lee Ki-ha’s hit, a spark of hope definitely ignited in the Dugout.
After that, our batters began to regain some focus.
A hit toward center field between the shortstop and second baseman put runners on first and third. The next batter lifted the ball as high and far as possible, and with the outfield fly out came a tag-up score.
As if that were the signal, our batting lineup pulled off three more runs in succession.
“Good! Stay focused like this! The game isn’t over.”
Though the score gap remained substantial, we couldn’t afford to lose without a fight—so our captain’s voice rang out, and all the players headed to the Ground for defense.
In the meantime, Kim Se-jin finished his icing and changed into loose clothing before returning to the Dugout.
“I’m sorry.”
His immediate apology caught everyone off guard.
“No, sir. These things happen.”
“There are days we win and days we lose.”
“And most importantly, the game isn’t over yet. We just scored, too.”
Both the senior players and younger players in the Dugout tried to console Kim Se-jin, telling him not to apologize.
Yet Kim Se-jin’s expression remained apologetic and bitter, and he sat down beside me.
“How’s the mood?”
“It’s fine, sir. We just scored and the momentum has shifted a bit.”
“Is that so? That’s a relief.”
Kim Se-jin gazed at the Stands with that bitter expression.
The Stands that had been packed before the game started were now nearly empty, and he stared at them as if blaming himself for it.
His face was filled with remorse for having dampened the momentum of our winning streak.
The game continued, and ultimately our winning streak ended with a score of 12 to 4.
* * *
The next day.
“Have these bastards still not come to their senses?!”
A loud voice rang out as everyone was warming up and preparing for the game.
Anyone could tell it was Manager Bong Jun-sik’s voice, and when everyone turned their gaze toward him, they realized.
The Three Hitters stood there with flushed faces and eyes still glazed over.
Surprisingly, one more person had been added to their number—four men in total still reeking of alcohol, their faces showing they hadn’t sobered up, filling the Dugout with the stench.

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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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