The Genius Pitcher Dad Throws for His Daughter - Chapter 39

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————

Chapter 39
#39.
Tuesday afternoon.
To prepare for today’s business, Jang Sung-ho, the owner of the meat restaurant, opened the shop door with vigor.
“Alright! Another day begins!”
Jang President, who could only feel at ease by opening and closing the shop door himself, turned on the lights and began his preparations for the day’s service.
Though he had cleaned before leaving the previous evening, dust had settled overnight, so he busily wiped down the tables and ensured thorough ventilation.
“Boss, I’m here!”
“Oh! Kim, you made it?”
“I’ll make sure the meat is top-notch today.”
“Is that so?”
In truth, Jang President was not particularly skilled at cooking.
Even when preparing the standard side dishes, miso stew, or cold noodles found at any ordinary meat restaurant, it would be difficult to call his establishment a renowned restaurant compared to others.
However, there was one aspect to which he devoted singular attention—the quality of the meat itself.
Within his budget, he sourced the finest cuts available and meticulously inspected every piece of meat that arrived.
This was possible because, before opening the restaurant, he had spent three months in Majang-dong learning how to select and grade meat from a senior he knew.
“Today’s selection is excellent. Last time, the neck meat quality was disappointing.”
“Come now. Word has spread about your discerning eye, so our company doesn’t bring you inferior products.”
“That’s how business should be done.”
“Exactly. Since we have a relationship with you, we naturally take extra care.”
The senior from Majang-dong’s older brother was in the distribution business, so naturally he had begun receiving meat from them, allowing him to obtain quality comparable to upscale meat restaurants.
As he was inspecting the meat piece by piece, a voice from beside him startled Jang President.
“By the way, did you hear who’s pitching today? It’s Kang Ho-jin.”
“What? Kang Ho-jin?! That Kang Ho-jin who’s the only one to sign something at our shop?!”
“Yes. The community is in an uproar because of it.”
Jang President wanted to check the community immediately, but being devoted to the meat, he verified everything and personally stored it all in the refrigerator before picking up his phone.
[Busan Dolphins Starting Pitcher Announcement: Kang Ho-jin!]
[Kang Ho-jin, who has been active as an ironclad closer, takes the mound as a starter!]
[Sudden shift to starting pitcher?! What will the outcome be?!]
[Everyone questions Manager Bong Jun-sik’s surprise selection! A veteran expressed discomfort with Manager Bong Jun-sik’s player deployment!]
[The Dolphins Front Office moves actively as the first half draws to a close. The changing landscape of the Dolphins inside and out!]
Sports articles about the Dolphins filled the screen as densely as bean sprouts.
Among them, the news that Kang Ho-jin would take the mound as a starter was remarkable and certainly cause for celebration. Moreover, wasn’t he a grateful customer who had come to the shop, signed autographs, taken photos, and boosted sales? As a fan, this was an unforgettable day.
“I can’t let this pass. I should call my brother over today.”
Jang President immediately made a phone call.
He called Kang Chul-soo, Kang Ho-jin’s father, and upon his immediate answer, bowed respectfully.
“Brother, congratulations! I hear Kang Ho-jin is pitching today!”
– I just found out from a call myself. Has the news already spread?
“Of course. Come to our shop today. I’ll have Chang-sik and his friends come too.”
– Thank you so much. I’m grateful.
“Isn’t that right?! Besides, we’re all fans of Kang Ho-jin, so of course. Please come with your wife.”
– Yes.
As the call ended, Jang President clenched his fist tightly.
“Let’s prepare properly today!”
Anticipation swelled for Kang Ho-jin’s starting appearance, and joy at the cheering had him swaying his shoulders as he picked up his phone again.
“Hey! Chang-sik! Did you hear?! Let’s gather today.”
Though the restaurant had only seven tables in its cramped space, today alone would be so bustling that one might think it had dozens of tables.
Whirrrrr—!
The air conditioner roared to life to cool the heat.
* * *
I had transitioned to starting pitcher.
Fortunately, the Manager granted his permission, and I seized that opportunity.
And the Manager imposed one condition.
“Minimum four innings. I won’t pull you until then, no matter what.”
Faced with this sudden change, the Manager demanded four innings from me.
No matter how many hits or home runs I gave up, he was entrusting me with four innings unconditionally.
Naturally, I wasn’t satisfied with that.
‘Sixty-five pitches—no, sixty-six pitches. I’ll throw them no matter what.’
Four innings wasn’t my goal.
To be precise, my goal was to throw as many pitches as my stamina could endure, and I had set my sights on five innings.
Calculating an average of fifteen pitches per inning, my stamina would be completely depleted somewhere in the middle of the fifth inning.
But my stamina recovery was one point per hour. So I could throw roughly one more pitch during the game.
That’s why my goal was sixty-six pitches.
‘Come to think of it… I’m receiving more consideration than I expected.’
Perhaps because my first starting appearance was imminent? Not a single soul could be seen in the Locker Room.
Even though it was time for everyone to warm up, they should have come by to shower after training or grab their personal belongings, yet no one appeared.
It seemed they were considerate enough to give me space to focus, though it felt a bit lonely.
‘Things have certainly changed from before….’
The me from before returning to the past would have been even more extreme.
I would have claimed a private room, declaring I needed to concentrate, and allowed no one inside until I left. Meetings between the Catcher and coaching staff weren’t scheduled—they happened only when I wanted them. Before and after games, I deliberately avoided building relationships with anyone, living in complete solitude.
After losing my Daughter and promising in a dream that I would become a wonderful baseball player father who excelled at the sport, I simply focused on baseball alone.
Tap, tap.
I pulled up my Daughter’s photo instead of the opposing team’s analysis materials I’d been reading.
Seeing her radiant smile nestled against me, fingers forming a V-sign, a smile bloomed across my lips.
Actually, this was a routine.
Before returning to the past, I would gaze at my Daughter’s photo right before taking the Mound, sharpening my focus while drowning in regret, anger, and guilt—pouring all that anguish into every pitch I threw.
But now it was different.
The pitches I threw now carried hope and miracles, belief and conviction that we could survive.
‘So….’
I had no intention of collapsing on the Mound.
Thud.
I left my phone in the Locker Room and headed toward the Dugout.
With the game finally upon us, everyone was bustling with preparations, so I bowed my head respectfully in greeting.
“Thank you for your support today, Senior Pitchers!”
Well then.
Let’s begin.
* * *
Starting pitcher.
That single word carries a weight all its own.
The transition from being merely a Bullpen pitcher to taking the Starting pitcher’s position was like receiving the right to paint the first brushstroke on a pristine canvas.
From this moment forward, the sketch would be drawn according to each pitch I threw, and as those pitches accumulated one by one, the picture would naturally take shape.
Then what would be the completion of this picture?
It would only be finished once color was added—beginning with the Catcher who receives my pitches, the infielders and outfielders on defense, the Bullpen pitchers who would follow, and the Manager and Coach who orchestrated the entire process.
And that completed picture would become the sentence that finishes the single word: victory.
“Play ball!”
What could I do to complete that word called victory?
‘Well, there’s only one thing, isn’t there?’
As I gently rolled the ball in my glove, I glanced at the batter stepping into the Batter’s Box, and Do-bin, my Senior Pitcher, had apparently made his decision—he sent a sign through the pitch com and tapped his mitt with a sharp pop.
Fastball, center.
It was exactly the sign I wanted.
I nodded.
I finished gripping the ball and nodded in acknowledgment.
Then, without hesitation, I hurled the pitch straight down the middle of the Strike Zone.
Crack!
“Strike!”
A fastball that planted itself perfectly from the very first pitch.
I liked how that first touch felt.
As the batter stepped back and then returned to the Batter’s Box, Do-bin requested through the pitch com.
Fastball, center.
He was joking.
In our first meeting yesterday late into the night, we had discussed showing only one fastball against the leadoff batter and then dropping the pitch count.
The leadoff batter actually had high contact ability—his probability of getting a hit on the same pitch location was twenty percent, and if it was the same location, it could rise to forty percent.
Yet he was requesting the same location?
There was only one answer.
Crack!
“Swing! Two!”
The bat swung sharply, but the distance between ball and bat was considerable.
It seemed the splitter I’d thrown on the second count had produced this result. The evidence was written on the batter’s face—he hadn’t expected it at all.
He stepped back from the Batter’s Box, tapped his head twice with the bat, then returned to the box.
Fastball, center.
Three consecutive pitches on the same course, the same type of ball.
At this point, I thought he was asking to get hit, but seeing him confidently tap the bat with a sharp crack, I simply nodded in acknowledgment.
Rather than throwing immediately after gripping the bat, I delayed slightly, and the moment his breathing fell out of sync, I unleashed the third pitch without hesitation.
Crack!
“Strike! Batter’s out!”
Whether he anticipated the decisive pitch falling outside the Strike Zone or simply watched the ball, it was a pitch right down the middle—a dagger driven into the batter’s heart.
Satisfied, Kang Do-bin threw the ball toward First Base and gave me a thumbs up.
I caught the ball as it came back around the infield.
Though it was my starting debut, I’d thrown from the Bullpen before, so there was no reason to keep it as a souvenir.
“Hey! Ball! Give me!”
Contrary to my feelings, Kevin made a fuss about it, calling out for the ball.
For a Pitcher scheduled to start tomorrow, he was being quite dramatic, but I signaled that it was fine by raising my hand, then took my position on the Mound again.
The next batter coming up was a familiar face.
He was from Seoul High like me, a year ahead in school.
He was showing decent performance as a shortstop, and he was a solid Senior who could become a national representative if he matured a bit more.
Seeing him acknowledge me, I lightly grabbed the brim of my cap as he lifted his helmet.
And then the match began.
The Senior was a left-handed batter who hit left-handed pitching well. His swing was extremely pull-oriented, but he surprisingly had flexible hips and could hit outside pitches too.
Of course, that was only when he matured more, not now. And most importantly, right now he was weak against breaking balls.
One changeup.
“Swing!”
One curveball.
“Swing! Two!”
For the last one, I threw Kevin’s splitter, delivering three breaking balls in total.
“Swing! Batter’s out!”
The first batter had swung meekly with his fists, but this time he swung with more flourish.
At this rate he’ll get sore, I thought as the third batter stepped up.
A massive batter approached the Batter’s Box, and despite his enormous frame, he had a flexible waist and could pull off full swings both inside and outside.
The only problem was when the ball met the bat, and proving his low batting average, the ball glanced off the bat on the first pitch swing.
Tick!
I caught the ball rolling in easily and threw to First Base without hesitation. Han Seok-do, who caught it with ease, gave me a thumbs up.
Seven pitches to complete the top of the first inning.
I’m in a good mood since I threw only half of what I expected.

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————