Genius Pitcher Hides 170Km [EN]: Chapter 13

This Team Is Something Else

#12. This Team Is Something Else

As of 2026, there are approximately 3,500 high school baseball players in South Korea. Among them, about 1,000 are seniors who try out for the pros.

Of those 1,000 aspiring professionals, only about 100 are actually selected by professional teams through the rookie draft each year.

The remaining 90%, except for the top 10%, must sadly seek other paths without even getting a chance to play professionally.

The total number of players registered with the Korea Professional Baseball Committee and making a living as professional baseball players after surviving such fierce competition is only 600.

The problem is that this number of 600 has remained stagnant for over a dozen years.

In other words, for every 100 rookies accepted each year, 100 existing players must forcibly retire.

For those players who haven’t firmly established themselves in the first team, every day is like walking on thin ice.

But even this level of competition pales in comparison to the pressure faced by a professional baseball team manager.

Just 10 people. No more, no less, exactly 10 people.

The honor of managing a professional baseball team in this country is bestowed upon only 10 individuals among all baseball personnel.

The competition for those spots is truly outrageous.

In that sense, Lee Dae-jun, who returned to the Warriors, the team he dedicated his entire life to, as manager, can be considered one of the chosen few.

Lee Dae-jun, who once again expressed his gratitude to the Warriors’ owner and general manager for the opportunity, focused his attention on the team he would be leading.

“Hmm.”

When he was a player, the Warriors were a formidable team.

Although they had to sell players due to financial constraints from their parent company, they consistently maintained a top-tier record by strategically selecting promising rookies from the Seoul area, thanks to their advantageous position in the first draft system.

Lee Dae-jun was one of those players, a so-called genius, who joined the Warriors through that system.

Like other highly touted prospects, he dominated high school baseball as both a pitcher and a hitter before turning pro.

And during his 15-year career as a player, he recorded a career batting average of .300, an on-base percentage of .400, and hit 315 home runs, solidifying his status as one of the league’s best first basemen.

Everyone lauded him as a genius.

‘Genius, my ass.’

But now, looking back, he felt a sense of shame about his past accolades.

A real genius is someone like that guy.

Han Su-hyeok.

Like Shohei Ohtani, the epitome of a baseball genius who recently retired a bit early due to an injury.

It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that if Japan has Ohtani, Korea has Han Su-hyeok.

No, to be honest, I even think Han Su-hyeok has higher potential.

Anyway, the guy who was expected to join Seattle suddenly chose to play in Korea, stating that it was his dream to join the Warriors.

The moment I saw him, I knew it instantly. The moment I saw him crushing home runs with incredible power using that unorthodox uppercut swing, I knew.

This guy is truly something special.

His defensive skills, which already seem good enough for a starting position, and his running speed, which would justify his salary even if he were only used as a pinch-runner, were secondary considerations.

Han Su-hyeok, who hammered Hong Young-sik’s fastball (Hong Young-sik was the first of the first-team pitchers to get in shape), and even crushed the breaking ball thrown by the pitcher whose pride was wounded, was far more than just a super high schooler.

‘Hmm… Did he really turn down the major leagues just because he loves the Warriors so much?’

Although the team-level trade is still in progress, and the newly arrived rookies and foreign hitters need to be evaluated, it was clear that the team had acquired a cornerstone hitter.

Just like himself in the past, who had been the 3rd hitter since his debut year and never relinquished that position until his retirement.

‘Hmm.’

In reality, the team’s weakness lay in its pitching, not its hitting.

It’s been a long-standing issue that the team’s pitching is weaker than its hitting, but this was excessive.

He shifted his gaze to where the pitching staff was training.

It’s almost painful to watch.

‘Are those really professional players?’

Among the pitchers remaining on this team, aside from Ryan Stark and Brooks Parker, the two foreign players who performed decently last season, the rest are truly disappointing.

Lee Man-sik, who has been the team’s ace for the past 10 years, is now showing obvious signs of decline.

No matter how experienced and mentally strong he is, it’s difficult to compete effectively with a fastball that barely reaches 140km/h [approximately 87 mph].

Another starting pitcher, Jung Tae-ho, is also a cause for concern.

His fastball has more velocity than Lee Man-sik’s, but the movement on his breaking ball is practically batting practice level.

At least Hong Young-sik, who is twenty-four years old this year and showed promise as a setup man last season, is showing potential, but after seeing him face rookie Han Su-hyeok yesterday, it seems it will take considerable time to develop him further.

Choi Jung-soo, who is slated to take over as the team’s closer following the trade of Han Jin-woo for a 2nd team pitcher, is too mentally fragile.

His fastball has the best finish on the team, along with Hong Young-sik, but the thought of entrusting him with the closer role for the entire season already gives me a headache.

To be honest, it’s a desperate situation.

“Whoosh!”

“165km/h [approximately 102.5 mph]!”

“Crazy!”

“Is that speed even possible in Korea?”

“Is he really not going to be a pitcher even after doing that?”

But just now, Manager Lee Dae-jun discovered a glimmer of hope.

No, this wasn’t just a hope; it was like holding a winning lottery ticket, a ticket that was guaranteed to pay out if he just waited a little longer.

The moment Han Su-hyeok, who seemed worth more than 1 billion won [approximately $750,000 USD] in signing bonus with his hitting alone, threw a ball at 165km/h, a smile involuntarily spread across Lee Dae-jun’s face.

‘He said it was Game 7 of the Korean Series, right?’

Because of the contract, he can’t be used as a pitcher this year, but if we can somehow make it to Game 7 of the Korean Series, victory is definitely within our grasp.

Of course, I need to verify if he can consistently throw with that kind of velocity.

Winning the Korean Series trophy in his first year back with his former team?

Lee Dae-jun’s mind raced with excitement.

“What are you all doing! Stop gawking and get back to your positions!”

The players, who were stunned by Han Su-hyeok’s 165km/h throw, were startled by the coach’s shout and returned to their training.

And then resumed their practice.

After witnessing something so extraordinary, it’s hard not to sigh again when observing the other pitchers training.

In the past, I would have kicked them in the rear and yelled at them to get their asses down to the 2nd team if they were going to throw such pathetic pitches.

But I can’t do that anymore.

Because I’m no longer a player on this team, but the manager.

Because I’m the leader who has to guide these guys through 144 games in a season.

I can’t handle this. I need some peace of mind.

Lee Dae-jun, grabbing a can of cold ion drink from the dugout, strode towards Han Su-hyeok.

“Oh, our youngest player. Are you feeling the heat? Have this drink. Is there anything you need?”

Lee Dae-jun, who was renowned as the number one bench-clearing brawler during his playing days and untouchable both on and off the field, the epitome of taciturnity, looked at Han Su-hyeok with an almost fatherly affection.

Han Su-hyeok, slightly taken aback, soon smiled and accepted the ion drink.

Lee Dae-jun’s smile widened even further when Han Su-hyeok mentioned that he had been a fan since he was a child.

If he thought about it for a moment, he would have realized that Han Su-hyeok was only three years old when he retired, but that didn’t matter to Lee Dae-jun.

A super rookie with both exceptional skills and a great personality; I felt like I could do anything for him.

* * *

‘That monster…’

It wasn’t just the manager who was observing Han Su-hyeok.

Ahn Chi-wook, the rookie third baseman who was almost bullied by a senior on the first day of spring training, bit his lower lip unconsciously. He was grateful to Han Su-hyeok, his classmate, for helping him escape the situation.

The memory of the day he first met that guy is still vivid in his mind.

Unlike Ahn Chi-wook, who developed a bit later, Han Su-hyeok had been a highly touted prospect since middle school. The school he attended wasn’t particularly strong either.

Eventually, in the spring tournament of his senior year of high school, their teams faced each other for the first time.

Ahn Chi-wook thought.

Han Su-hyeok was ranked higher overall as a player because he was also a pitcher, but at least as a hitter, he believed he had just as much potential.

He was limited to a ground ball against Han Su-hyeok, but he also hit a line-drive double against the subsequent pitcher.

After the game that day, he asked the coach to arrange a meeting with Han Su-hyeok.

He had no idea that a single comment from Han Su-hyeok would completely change his baseball career.

‘Ahn Chi-wook? Are you the big guy who can only hit ground balls?’

‘What?’

‘Your swing is like that, um… well, never mind.’

He directly addressed Ahn Chi-wook’s insecurity.

Despite having an imposing physique of over 187cm [approximately 6’2″], he struggled to hit home runs, which caused Ahn Chi-wook a great deal of stress.

But that was actually a strength, not a weakness.

A hitter who can consistently produce hits with a concise and precise swing, unlike his outwardly large physique, Ahn Chi-wook was known as a contact hitter.

The problem was that Ahn Chi-wook developed a misguided idea after his meeting with Han Su-hyeok that day.

‘I’m going to hit more home runs than that guy.’

He abandoned the concise and beautiful level swing that everyone praised.

Instead, after watching Han Su-hyeok’s game videos countless times, he began to imitate his uppercut swing.

No matter how much people around him tried to dissuade him, he refused to listen.

The manager was furious, and the coach even visited his house and pleaded with his parents.

“Please persuade your son; the team will be ruined if he continues like this, and it may be difficult for him to turn pro.”

But Ahn Chi-wook remained stubborn.

He kept swinging upwards like crazy. People around him mocked him for “scooping,” but he didn’t care.

As a result, his long hits increased slightly, but his batting average, which had easily exceeded .400, plummeted to .300.

To make matters worse, his personality, which was originally praised for being bright and cheerful, gradually darkened.

As he intentionally spoke less to hide his anxious feelings, people even commented that his tone had become strange.

In short, everything was a mess.

‘Jerk…’

But that guy didn’t remember anything.

He threw everything away to avenge the humiliation of that day, and he gritted his teeth and persevered to catch up with that guy.

He forgot about me. No, it seems like he never even registered my existence in the first place.

Anyway, all of that is just a story from the past now.

Ahn Chi-wook, who sacrificed his specialty and identity, batting accuracy, and gained a little bit of long-hit power, managed to be drafted by the Seoul Warriors in the 9th round, which was much lower than expected.

As a result, his signing bonus, which is the most important source of income for professional players, was significantly reduced, but it was okay. Thanks to his parents, who own a large tangerine farm on Jeju Island, he doesn’t have to worry about money right now.

The important thing is this.

That he can play on the same team as Han Su-hyeok.

That was the best gift for Ahn Chi-wook, who had dedicated all his passion to following him for the past six months and had become Han Su-hyeok’s biggest fan.

He imagined Han Su-hyeok playing shortstop and batting 3rd, and himself playing third base and batting 4th.

And he added the fantasy of hitting more home runs than him and winning the MVP award.

The world became brighter just by thinking about it.

Unable to contain his rising excitement, he blurted out,

‘Han Su-hyeok.’

‘Why?’

‘Um.’

‘Say it.’

‘Never mind.’

‘I’m leaving.’

‘Your throw from third base was good.’

‘Thank you. Goodbye.’

‘If I play third base and you play shortstop, it will be a nightmare for right-handed hitters.’

He finally succeeded in conveying the ambition he held in his heart to Han Su-hyeok.

But alas, Song Ki-tae, the senior who was the team’s starting shortstop until last season and might have to play third base this year because of Han Su-hyeok, overheard that.

That night, the senior visited him while he was resting in his room. And then he was dragged to the shower room where no one was around.

It felt like the sky was falling. A rookie who hasn’t been with the team for long was being targeted by the team’s starting player.

He is one of the veterans of this team anyway. Ahn Chi-wook was completely intimidated by the senior’s anger.

But then, someone appeared and saved him from the crisis.

It was Han Su-hyeok.

The moment he hid behind his classmate’s back to avoid the senior’s fierce gaze, Ahn Chi-wook felt an unexpected sense of shame.

He felt relieved when he hid behind Han Su-hyeok’s back.

Even though they were the same age, he felt like he was relying on a dependable older brother.

Ahn Chi-wook, who escaped from the crisis and returned to his room, couldn’t sleep and went outside.

And unintentionally, he overheard Han Su-hyeok talking to someone on the phone.

‘Yeah, hyung [older brother/friend]. Are you having a hard time? It’s tough. But what can I do? If I want to make this team win, I think I have to work really hard to death. Yeah, I’m okay.’

Han Su-hyeok, after finishing his conversation, started swinging his bat again.

Han Su-hyeok’s appearance, silently swinging in the dim moonlight, resembled that of an ascetic practicing Taoism, not a baseball player.

At that moment, I realized.

That the crazy classmate gave up the major leagues to make the Warriors win was real.

That the classmate named Han Su-hyeok is genuinely determined to make this last-place team, the Warriors, a winner.

For some reason, I felt resentful. It feels like I lost before I even competed.

“Um.”

Ahn Chi-wook, recalling the events of last night, looked at Han Su-hyeok in the distance with mixed emotions.

He is a monster who throws 165km/h in spring training.

I will completely give up on surpassing him as a baseball player.

But only one thing, I will hit more home runs than that guy.

And I will repay what happened yesterday by contributing to the Warriors’ championship that that guy desires.

“I will win. Han Su-hyeok.”

“…?”

“Just wait and see.”

“No, what the hell? If you’re going to say something, say it properly…”

“Hehe.”

Ahn Chi-wook, a promising contact hitter who could hit up to .300 in his debut year if he utilized his talent effectively, disappeared, vowing in his heart to become a home run king.

* * *

Genius Pitcher Hides 170Km [EN]

Genius Pitcher Hides 170Km [EN]

천재 투수가 170km를 숨김
Status: Completed Author: Native Language: Korean
Bookmark
[English Translation] He achieved the dream of every baseball player, reaching the pinnacle of success in the major leagues. But beneath the roar of the crowd and the flash of the stadium lights, a gnawing regret festers. Was it truly worth it? From the very beginning, a different path beckoned, a hidden potential simmering just beneath the surface. What if the key to true greatness lies not in conquering the majors, but in unleashing a secret weapon—a blistering 170km fastball concealed from the world? Prepare to question everything you thought you knew about talent, ambition, and the price of chasing the wrong dream.

Read Settings

not work with dark mode
Reset