The Genius Pitcher Dad Throws for His Daughter - Chapter 56

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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 56
#56.
While I honed my curveball, the team continued its steady march through games.
Our team took to the road, traveled to Suwon for a three-game series against the Wolves, then returned to Gwangju.
Tuesday’s starting pitcher was Kim Se-jin, who’d been bumped from third starter to fourth—or rather, my senior.
Remarkably, Se-jin brought out a pitch type he hadn’t relied on much lately.
“Swing! Batter out!”
It was none other than the curveball.
Se-jin, who’d recently reduced his curveball ratio, had shifted emphasis to forkballs and thrown deceptive sliders instead, but today he deliberately resurrected his curveball.
It was as if he’d summoned the Kim Se-jin of his prime.
The result: 103 pitches, 7 innings, no runs, 3 hits allowed, 1 walk.
While he locked down the mound, our batters erupted from the opening, scoring 7 runs and securing the win condition for him.
The next day’s game saw Choi Jin-ha take the mound, and this one had quite a few amusing moments.
“T-time!”
“No! Play ball!”
The batters called for time, but the ball was already in flight.
There was another reaction on top of that.
“Time! Pitcher’s tempo is too fast. Slow it down a bit.”
The umpire issued a warning to both the pitcher and catcher.
Choi Jin-ha was almost brutally sharp in his rhythm, completely stripping batters of their timing.
Of course, these weren’t batters who’d just sit and watch, so they called time repeatedly, but often they were already mid-motion, swinging desperately regardless.
Tick—!
Even with proper batting stance, hitting is difficult, and Choi Jin-ha’s pitches weren’t the kind you could connect with after hastily adjusting your form.
Most resulted in grounders or fly balls, and he cruised through 8 innings cleanly, extending his winning streak.
Then, in the final midweek game, Kevin unfortunately took the loss.
He showed control issues from the start, got shelled, and gave up 5 runs over 3⅓ innings before being pulled.
The batters weren’t in great form that day either, but the rain before the game made conditions so humid that everyone’s balance seemed off.
Still, we’d come down to Gwangju riding a winning streak, but yesterday Al held strong early before collapsing in the fifth, giving us a loss.
“Tsk, is it my turn again?”
I felt an odd pattern—I seemed to get called up whenever we hit a losing streak.
But I couldn’t dwell on such details, because my curveball’s rank had climbed, and that consumed my focus entirely.
“Do-bin, you good with this?”
“Huh? Yeah… No! I can do this!”
Kang Do-bin looked flustered for a moment before his expression shifted back to determination.
What was wearing on my senior now was the change brought by my curveball reaching A-rank.
The transformation that came to me, who once only threw waterfall-like curveballs, was killing him. Especially when I deliberately dropped it at Home Plate—seven times out of ten he’d catch it, three times it would slip past—so his suffering was considerable.
“Huff! Huff! I can do this!”
Still, he worked steadily every day to catch them, so I never eased up or reduced my velocity. If he could handle mine, he’d breeze through other pitchers’ stuff. Of course, it wasn’t just my thinking—Kang Do-bin shared the same philosophy.
And so my game day arrived.
And so the day of my competition arrived.
“Play ball!”
With the Umpire’s call, I gripped the ball to throw my first pitch.
A curve. Low and away.
The Catcher wanted a curve that caught the edge of the Strike Zone.
Trusting my control, I threw without hesitation at the requested pitch.
“Strike! One!”
“Ha….”
The ball had grazed the ABS so delicately that it seemed impossibly far from the Batter’s perspective, and when the Umpire’s call came, the Batter exhaled sharply in frustration.
I’d just thrown my first curve, and with that kind of reaction, the next pitch was already decided.
Curve! Curve! Low and middle.
As he pressed the pitch type twice to request the ball, I couldn’t help but smile slightly.
Normally, I wouldn’t smile like this—I should be throwing with a sunken motion, but ever since meeting Myung-hwan, changes had come naturally, and smiling had become second nature.
Then I threw without hesitation.
The curve ball left my hand in a way that anyone—whether in the Batter’s Box or watching from the Dugout—could immediately recognize.
Whoosh—!
The Batter swung, thinking it was a curve, but unfortunately, it wasn’t the ordinary curve I usually threw—it was a different kind of curve.
“Swing! Two!”
140 kilometers per hour.
A power curve, to be precise.
The drop was less pronounced than usual, but it showed a noticeable downward movement from the Batter’s Box, entering the Catcher’s glove quickly.
Noticing that the Batter wasn’t stepping back in confusion but rather staring blankly, I immediately caught the ball and went into my set position before throwing again.
Whoosh—!
With the Batter’s bewildered expression, the bat swung before the ball even reached the glove.
“Swing! Out!”
This time, it was the standard curve I usually threw—the one with such tremendous drop that it bounced off the Home Plate ground.
Tap! Crack—!
I caught the bouncing ball and immediately brought it to the Batter’s body, securing the first out.
“Ha… damn….”
The Batter withdrew with a curse.
Stepping into the Batter’s Box, he was clearly looking for fastballs, so there was no reason for me to throw them—I only threw breaking balls. Seeing his displeasure, he seemed like a Senior with poor character.
‘I’ve never actually seen him since I debuted in the 1st Team.’
Then he was just an ordinary player.
There was no need to worry about a player I might never see in the 1st Team after today.
As the next Batter stepped up, Do-bin pressed the pitch-com.
Curve. Low and away.
Against a right-handed batter, it felt impossibly far, making it difficult to hit properly—I nodded and threw the requested curve.
“Hup!”
The ball left my hand with a shout I didn’t even realize I was making, and the Batter swung as if he’d been waiting for it.
Tick—!
Thinking the curve I threw was a power curve, the Batter’s bat came out quickly, but unfortunately, it was a slow curve.
“Out!”
The Umpire called it as the ball traveled through the Shortstop’s glove toward First Base, and with two outs cleanly recorded, I faced the third batter.
Four-seam fastball down the middle.
In response to Do-bin’s obvious demand, I brought my glove up to conceal my mouth and unleashed the pitch without hesitation.
Crack!
“Strike! One!”
Satisfied with the 150 km reading on the Scoreboard, I received the ball the Catcher threw back.
‘Since the curveball is working so well… they look confused up there, don’t they?’
Not just an ordinary curveball, but a power curve emphasizing sharp drop, a waterfall curve that plummets toward Home Plate, and a curve that tumbles down—three distinct types of curveballs that clearly muddled the batters’ minds.
Same pitch, yet each one breaks differently.
Since I’ve thrown fastballs mixed with curveballs so far, now came the finishing touch.
Splitter. Low and inside.
I nodded and released the pitch, which suddenly dropped just before Home Plate, evading the batter’s swing and snapping into the glove.
“Swing! Batter out!”
At the Umpire’s call, I descended from the Mound.
Satisfied with the clean three-strikeout inning, I moved quickly toward the Dugout and extended my right fist—the one holding my glove—toward my incoming teammates.
“Great work out there.”
The gloomy atmosphere born from the losing streak instantly began filling with fighting spirit.
So long as I pitched well, I could sustain this momentum, and I quietly waited for the defensive change.
‘Hah… maybe… baseball could be a little fun…?’
Rising to the 1st Team faster than before had eased my body, and with my seniors—no, my brothers—helping me, my heart had grown slightly happier.
It felt like I’d returned to my high school days, when I simply looked ahead and threw the ball, and my heart pounded like it was going mad.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
If this were my high school days, I would have focused on that single voice reaching my ears, but today was different.
Ho-jin! Ho-jin! Ho-jin!
To the roar of fans who’d traveled all the way to Gwangju for this away game, my heart began beating in sync with their rhythm.
For an A-rank curveball’s debut stage, this felt like quite the perfect scenario.
* * *
“Swing and a miss! Strike three! The batters are helpless against it. Today, Ho-jin’s weapon of choice is the curveball!”
At the Caster’s cry, the Sports Commentator continued with evident intrigue.
“Since his matchup with Park Myung-hwan last time, the velocity and movement of his curveball have improved dramatically. Almost as much as Park Myung-hwan in his prime.”
In the Sports Commentator’s view, Ho-jin’s curveball today resembled that of Park Myung-hwan, who was called South Korea’s number one.
Certainly, the pitching form differed between a left-hander and right-hander, but the result was the same—a sharp drop near Home Plate that toyed with the batter.
“Ho-jin’s condition today is exceptional. The drop on his curveball is completely different from usual.”
“Exactly. On the surface, his pitching form, posture, and release point are no different from last game. But from the batter’s perspective, they’re not facing one pitch type—they’re facing three different curveballs, so their minds must be spinning.”
The Sports Commentator, being a former batter, spoke with full understanding of the torment Ho-jin’s current opponents endured, but as he finished, he had to prepare his next call.
“Contact! But it rolls in front of the Second Baseman, and as he reaches for it—the Pitcher cuts it off and throws to First! Out!”
“For a Pitcher, his fielding on short contact is impressive. At this rate, even a surprise bunt won’t work.”
Thanks to Ho-jin’s solid performance not just in throwing but in his next action—his follow-through and defensive positioning—the out count simply kept mounting.
Ho-jin, who finished the inning in a flash against the next batter, descended from the Mound with ease.
“Kang Ho-jin is displaying peak condition.”
“Certainly, last time he was aggressive and focused on striking out batters while using various pitch types, but today he’s actively utilizing his fastball and curveball to dominate the strike zone.”
“Thanks to Kang Ho-jin’s stellar performance, the fifth inning flew by. We’ll continue after this commercial break.”
During the cleaning time, the Caster and Sports Commentator headed toward the Restroom, their conversation flowing naturally.
“Today’s been an entertaining game.”
The Sports Commentator nodded at the Caster’s words.
“Absolutely. If I were watching this alone at home with a drink, I’d have already emptied four beers by now.”
While the two broadcasters found the game captivating, others in attendance were equally enthralled.
“Ho-jin Kang… interesting.”
In one section of the Stands.
The name Kang Ho-jin was inscribed in the notebooks of several Foreign Scouts who had come to the Stadium.

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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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