The Genius Pitcher Dad Throws for His Daughter - Chapter 87

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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 87
#87.
Day 2 of Spring Camp.
Everyone warmed up with tense expressions as the Blue-White Game approached.
The atmosphere of this year’s Dolphins Spring Camp was different.
Most notably, the majority of high-salaried players were absent.
And most of them had remained in the 2nd Team since last year, starting in the 2nd Team again this year.
Those players were Kim Pil-joong, Baek Ji-ha, Ahn Byung-ho, and Kim Da-hu—notorious drinkers and troublemakers who had been publicly listed as trade material. They were so famous for their love of drinking and causing problems that other teams refused to take them, making them what General Manager Park Ju-ho famously treated as toxic inventory.
Beyond them, players who had connections with that group and were known for enjoying themselves were mostly filtered out, and some players who had received numerous opportunities yet failed to perform were also cut.
In essence, the 2nd Team camp was starting with far fewer players than usual, and only those with genuine passion and sincerity for baseball remained in the 1st Team.
Because of this, one could sense the competition was fiercer than ever.
“Alright, everyone gather around.”
At the Senior Coach’s call, the players assembled.
With so many people, the atmosphere felt bustling, and seeing everyone’s discipline tightened, he spoke with a satisfied expression.
“No point talking about this and that—let’s start the Blue-White Game. Divide into two teams and prepare.”
“Yes, sir!”
And so we began preparing for the Blue-White Game.
Nearly thirty players per team were divided, and those starting as starters took the Ground.
“Play ball.”
The Umpire watched by the Senior Coach as the game began.
Base coaches positioned themselves on both sides, with the Pitching Coach at First Base, the Battery Coach at Second Base, and the Physical Coach at Third Base.
Since they had to remain in position continuously without rest during the Blue-White Game, the coaching staff took their positions with firm resolve.
Top of the 1st inning, defense.
The Pitcher was Kim Se-jin. Kang Do-bin took the Catcher’s mask, and as the two faced off, Choi Ji-ho stepped into the Batter’s Box as the leadoff batter.
“Oh, Coach. You look great in that role! You really look like an umpire.”
The Dolphins’ vanguard and the team’s usual mood-maker as a batter.
As he entered the Batter’s Box, he showed a playful side, cracking jokes toward the Senior Coach, but once he reached base, he was the type to wear out pitchers.
“So, let’s see what Se-jin’s been preparing.”
Stepping into the box, he took his stance with keen interest.
And with the first pitch that followed, Choi Ji-ho and everyone else were startled.
“S-strike.”
The velocity displayed on the Scoreboard.
Everyone was shocked at the number: 143 km.
Until last year, this veteran had been pitching in the low-to-mid 130 km range, using his four-seam fastball to skillfully evade batters, but suddenly his velocity had surged dramatically as if he’d found his youth again.
Of course, he’d been throwing at reduced velocity to get through longer innings, and occasionally threw fastballs in the low 140 km range when it mattered.
But throwing a 140 km fastball from the start meant one could sense this wasn’t full effort from the beginning—it was controlled velocity.
As evidence, the second pitch was also a four-seam fastball at 137 km.
Choi Ji-ho, suddenly down to two strikes, set his stance determined not to be easily fooled by the next pitch, and the third pitch came flying toward such a batter.
‘It’s definitely a forkball!’
Thinking of its dropping trajectory, I brought my swing up as if to scoop it, and in the moment I saw the ball flutter and thought my read was correct before it fell—
Whoooosh—!
“Swing! Out!”
Surprisingly, the ball didn’t drop like a forkball.
But it didn’t drop less than a fastball either, so I looked at the Catcher, puzzled.
“Isn’t that what you call a splitter?”
“Huh? A splitter?”
Unable to continue the conversation, I stepped away from the Batter’s Box.
And watching Se-jin throw from the Bench, Choi Ji-ho finally understood.
“What the hell?! What’s going on with that guy? Is it a fork? A splitter?”
The sensation of the bat making contact, yet the timing feeling both right and wrong simultaneously.
Neither a forkball nor a splitter—something bizarrely wicked cut through the Strike Zone, tormenting the batters.
After striking out three batters in quick succession, Se-jin descended with a sinister grin. I grabbed my glove and headed to the Ground, then stopped as I watched Kang Ho-jin heading toward the Mound.
“What’s with you again?”
“Yes, Senior?”
Kang Ho-jin turned the question back on Choi Ji-ho.
But looking at his face, it naturally clicked. Both Se-jin who had just pitched and Kang Ho-jin had been building their bodies here for the past month—which meant something was definitely happening.
“Ah, never mind.”
Not wanting to stir up unnecessary trouble, I quietly took my position at Second Base.
And as the first right-handed batter stepped up, Kang Ho-jin threw.
“Wow, what the—?!”
Choi Ji-ho’s eyes widened.
Kang Ho-jin’s pitching, which had only ever dropped straight down, now had a weapon that curved sideways—and he threw a backdoor pitch without hesitation at the right-handed batter. Chills ran down my spine.
‘This is bad… This year’s going to be brutal….’
I could clearly see the ball rolling hard between First and Second Base, and as if confirming my prediction, a hard grounder came flying at me on the next pitch. I instinctively reached out.
Crack—!
I caught the ball in my glove, threw to First Base, confirmed the out, then looked at Kang Ho-jin with apprehension.
The next batter was helpless against Kang Ho-jin’s slider, and batters were swept away in an instant. Soon it was time for the sides to switch.
“You’re not going to throw that many sliders, right? Right?”
I asked because if he threw too many, more grounders would come my way.
But instead of answering, Kang Ho-jin just grinned wickedly.
It was the same smile Se-jin had shown when coming down from the Mound earlier. I trembled with dread.
And I realized what I’d need to do during this Spring Camp.
‘I’m going to have to take a beating and catch everything….’
There was only one answer.
The path ahead was brutal, and I didn’t want to go down it, but ultimately I had no choice.
I hated it terribly, but it was unavoidable.
* * *
Senior Choi Ji-ho asked me to save him.
So I threw sliders even more aggressively to honor his request.
Against right-handed batters, I aimed exclusively for backdoor pitches.
There was no particular reason. Given the Dolphins’ tendency to have more push hitters than pull hitters, the strategy was to direct more balls toward Choi Ji-ho.
If he made a standout play, the Manager would be pleased, so I told him to make an impression.
“S-save me….”
Though the man himself seemed to be dying in the process.
Since I’d been working him hard even before his body was fully conditioned, his response was sharp. Not only was I satisfied with his performance, but the Coaches appreciated it too—especially the Battery Coach at Second Base, who was delighted.
“Good. Keep working that hard during the season. That’s how our pitchers can trust their throws.”
Since this Coach focused on the Pitcher and Catcher, he was pleased to see the defensive improvements and even applauded. Then he asked the Physical Coach at Third Base to provide additional training, which only terrified Choi Ji-ho further.
Since his words weren’t wrong, I simply smiled and nodded.
“Senior, your slider is deadly.”
“How is it? No problems catching it?”
“I’ve been catching it relentlessly all week—if I couldn’t do it, I’d be in trouble.”
Hyun Myung-su’s skills had definitely improved.
As if proving that the sweat shed over the past month wasn’t in vain, there was no wavering in his receiving. With the wavering gone came stability, and with that stability came leisure—he was stealing more glances at the batter’s stance.
If he continued growing at this rate, the void left by Do-bin wouldn’t feel so large.
In any case, the Blue-White Game continued.
Since most of the starting lineups from both teams consisted of players who’d had at least one at-bat in the 1st Team last year, Se-jin and I both pitched with full effort without letting our guard down.
We threw exactly three innings and came down.
We kept our pitch count under forty, and every batter was retired without a single solid hit.
While others were struggling, we moved to the side with ease and felt satisfied with this outing.
“Brother, did you decide to mix them after all?”
“Yeah. It felt sufficient even now. Less grip fatigue in the middle, and it’s not bad for exploiting weaknesses either.”
He was right.
There was no need to distinguish between a forkball and a splitter—just throw what fits the situation. We’d proven over three innings that it was effective enough, and with the time remaining until opening day, we could refine it further.
“Your slider’s pretty good too.”
“Well, the person who taught me was quite exceptional.”
My slider curved sharply both vertically and horizontally.
Especially the vertical slider was now perfectly suited to steal the batter’s timing.
First pitch: a 150 km fastball. Second pitch: a 130 km changeup. Then suddenly a 140 km slider drops? If I were the batter, I’d grab my bat and charge the mound.
Anyway, we were satisfied with today’s pitching.
Whether it was pitching against batters whose bodies weren’t fully conditioned yet, or simply having collected data, we could feel our progress clearly.
“Kim Se-jin, Kang Ho-jin.”
“Yes, Manager.”
“You called for us?”
Manager Bong Jun-sik approached us.
He handed us each a drink he was holding, and his empty hands transformed into a double thumbs-up.
That was it.
No further explanation was needed—the perfect gesture made us look at each other and laugh.
We bumped fists, understanding it meant: let’s enter the regular season without any injuries and deliver good results.
The Blue-White Game, which had started early in the morning, finally ended around lunchtime.
The score’s meaning was unimportant.
There was only a distinction between those who had prepared for Spring Camp and those who hadn’t.
The competition for the 27th season had only just begun.
And I had finished preparing for my point hunting for my Daughter.
All that remained was to hunt.

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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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