A Rookie In The Baseball Team Is Too Good [EN]: Chapter 310

74. The Clouds in My Heart Clear Up (5)

The next day, afternoon.

Camden Yards, home of the Baltimore Orioles, was filled with more spectators than usual.

The cloudless weather certainly played a part. The various events prepared by the Baltimore club for the weekend also had an impact.

But the main reason so many people came to the ballpark that day was probably this:

Baltimore’s starting pitcher, Vincent Hiyama.

“Buy a program! Only $2! It includes a special pictorial of Vincent Hiyama!”

“How about a uniform? We also have signed balls! If you buy now, you get a free photo card of Vincent Hiyama!!!”

Camden Yards was almost in a festive mood just because he was starting.

The sounds of merchants soliciting, impatient fans cheering, and club staff making announcements.

Amidst all the noise and commotion-

“Yeah, just do it that way!”

Near the relatively deserted entrance for staff at Camden Yards.

A middle-aged man was frowning deeply as he answered the phone.

“Just give the reporters a vague explanation. What else can we do? It’s not like there’s any solid evidence in this kind of situation.”

Hoo.

The man continued, exhaling white cigarette smoke.

“Instead, subtly hint at the nuances to officials from other teams… Yeah, no need to be specific. Those guys will get it.”

His call lasted quite a while.

With each change in the person on the other end of the line, the wrinkles on his forehead deepened, and the cigarette in his hand shortened.

Then, just as he paused the call and was about to light a new cigarette-

“No smoking here.”

A voice from behind.

“This is where the players come and go. The players’ children also come here. If you must smoke, please use the smoking booth in the parking lot.”

The man frowned at the unexpected reprimand.

He was already furious, and he was grinding his teeth at the Baltimore Orioles.

*How dare* some club employee give him trouble.

*Well, well, well*. He’d take out the anger he couldn’t vent on the Baltimore GM [General Manager] on this guy.

Thinking just that, he turned his head sharply, but-

“…Ugh?!”

The man froze solid as he saw the large shadow in his view.

A height that looked down on him at a glance, even though he was a former athlete himself.
A physique that was surprisingly confident and solid for an Asian.

And above all, the man with the strikingly pale skin, unlike that of an active player, was-

“Vi, Vincent?!”

The man smiled awkwardly.

“You’re out earlier than I thought? Your bullpen pitching must have finished early?”

“Yes, I finished quickly. I threw a lot of balls yesterday to regain my feel for the curveball…”

*No, more than that.*

Vincent Hiyama said.

“Aren’t you going to put out your cigarette?”

He said in a low voice.

“And pick up the butts on the ground, too.”

* * *

Baltimore Orioles’ two-way ace, Vincent Hiyama.

And his exclusive agent, Simon Lopez.

The conversation between these two resumed about five minutes later.

Only after the agent cleaned up not only the cigarette butts on the ground but also the trash that someone had thrown away did Vincent nod in satisfaction.

“Thank you for your hard work, Mr. Lopez.”

Vincent Hiyama pulled out a crumpled plastic bag from his back pocket and held it out.

A plastic bag suddenly appeared from a man who was about to sign a contract worth hundreds of millions of dollars.

The agent accepted Vincent Hiyama’s ‘gift’ with a wry smile on his face.

“But what’s going on?”

Vincent Hiyama asked as the agent wiped his dirty hands with a handkerchief.

“If it’s about the contract extension, I think we can talk over the phone.”

“It’s a story I have to tell you in person. That’s why I came all the way here.”

The agent put the handkerchief in his back pocket and lowered his voice as much as possible, bringing up the main point of the day.

“I’m really sorry to say this… but I think it’s better to change your killer pitch for today’s game.”

“Excuse me?”

Vincent’s eyebrows twitched.

“What do you mean? The pitch you’ve been saving for the postseason… weren’t you the one who insisted we use it now?”

“Well, yeah, but…”

*Damn it.*

The agent scratched his head.

“Douglas seems to have leaked information about your killer pitch to the opposing team.”

“Douglas… are you talking about our GM [General Manager]?”

“Yeah.”

*That son of a bitch.*

The agent gritted his teeth.

“I can’t tell you the source, but it’s definitely reliable information. And this isn’t the first time. I heard he leaked information about your killer pitch during the last game against Kansas City.”

That was the game where Vincent, who had been pitching well all season, collapsed after giving up 5 runs.

“I thought something was strange. The Kansas City guys looked so confident. Damn it, I should have noticed it then.”

“…”

“Anyway, Vincent, we can’t just sit back and take it, right? The first negotiation is next week, and the price discussed then will determine the overall contract size.”

The agent continued.

“Let’s seal the curveball. There’s no reason to throw a pitch that the opponent is expecting, right? If you collapse in two consecutive games, it could affect not only the contract extension but also the FA [Free Agent] negotiations later on…”

It was a story that any experienced agent would know like common sense.

How petty and stingy the club officials are at the negotiation table.

They’re the kind of guys who would try to cut millions of dollars just because you had one bad game.

But what if you collapse in two games? In a row? Then the value of the ‘Vincent Hiyama’ brand could change.

So, the curveball must be sealed. You have to bring out another killer pitch. That was the agent’s thought, but Vincent’s answer was quite lukewarm.

“I understand. I’ll think about it.”

“Think about it? Are you kidding me right now?!”

The agent unknowingly burst into anger, but barely regained his composure after seeing Vincent’s expression.

“What’s there to think about? Tampa Bay knows about it! You have to change it right away! Whether it’s a splitter or a cutter!”

“I understand what you’re saying, Mr. Lopez, but our team has its own routine.”

“Team’s… routine?”

The agent tilted his head.

“Not your routine, Vincent?”

“Yes.”

The ace nodded.

“Not to mention the discussion with the catcher, the fielders have completed their defensive training assuming I’ll throw the curveball. The bullpen pitchers’ order has also been decided.”

The starting pitcher’s style determines a lot.

How will the ball distribution go? How will the defensive positions be set? And how will the bullpen pitchers’ order be set?

“If I change my killer pitch now, the plan we’ve set up will be a mess. Our team already has a lot of young fielders, and they’ll be very confused. As an ace of the team, I don’t want to put that burden on them.”

“No, the plan is good and the teammates are good, but… your killer pitch has been exposed! The Tampa Bay players will only be looking for the curveball! Do you want to collapse again like last time?!”

The agent was frustrated and shouted, but all he got back was Vincent Hiyama’s faint smile.

“Where’s the guarantee?”

“Huh?”

“Even if Tampa Bay figures out my killer pitch, where’s the guarantee that they’ll hit it for a hit or a home run?”

His voice was full of confidence.

“If it was a pitch that could be exploited with just that much analysis, I wouldn’t have kept it as a secret weapon for the postseason.”

“But clearly in the last game…”

The story that he collapsed because his killer pitch was exposed.

But the Baltimore ace seemed to have a different idea about that.

“Let me make it clear here. That day’s game was entirely my responsibility.”

“What?”

“It’s not because my killer pitch was exposed, and it’s not because the GM leaked information. It’s because I couldn’t maintain my composure, and I couldn’t calm my teammates’ wavering hearts.”

It’s the same today.

Vincent Hiyama said firmly.

“No matter what strategy the opponent comes up with, no matter what tricks the GM uses… I’m going to throw the ball my way. I won’t put a burden on my teammates, and I won’t worry the manager or coaches. I’ll show you a very stable game.”

“No… why?!”

A bubbling heart.

In the end, this experienced agent also burst into frustration.

“Why do you go so far? Why do you try to go the hard way when there’s an easy way?!”

“…Didn’t I tell you?”

*I’m the ace, after all.*

Vincent Hiyama said.

“The Baltimore Orioles’ ace.”

* * *

*I’m going to break through head-on.*

*I won’t give unnecessary confusion to the inexperienced fielders.*

*I’ll throw the ball my way, and I’ll take full responsibility for it.*

That is,

The duty of the ace.

Vincent Hiyama had made his intentions very clear to the agent, but.

Wow!!!

Wow!!!

The Baltimore Orioles’ home stadium was packed with tens of thousands of spectators.

Standing on the mound, which now felt like home, he was also pondering a slightly complicated feeling.

‘*So, the GM leaked my killer pitch to another team, huh?*’

Honestly, he was disappointed.

He was really disappointed.

But that disappointment wasn’t simply because of the 5-run loss, but because the GM didn’t understand his heart.

‘*Didn’t he trust me?*’

He had told the GM many times.

As a professional player, he couldn’t ignore the financial aspect, but his goal was still to win the team championship.

To win the World Series with the Baltimore Orioles, he could accept any conditions for that.

‘*All I really wanted was the club’s will, just to show the will to win this year no matter what…*’

At a time when they should be diligently accumulating wins, at a time when they should be winning even one more game, he was taking actions that would undermine his own performance.

‘*Is it inevitable?*’

People can’t help but be swayed by immediate gains.

He says winning is the goal as a habit, but the contract extension negotiation coming up next week is more important.

‘*Yeah, maybe I was looking at Major League Baseball too naively.*’

He also felt that they were all the same.
The Baltimore Orioles, who leaked the ace’s information, and the Kansas City, who readily accepted it.

Maybe today’s opponent, the Tampa Bay Rays, wouldn’t be much different either.

Swaaack- Boom!

Swaaack- Boom!

Swaaack- Boom!

Perhaps because he was secretly angry.

Vincent Hiyama’s four-seam fastball penetrated the catcher’s mitt more strongly than usual.

“Nice ball! Nice ball!”

The ball count is now 1-2.

It’s time to start competing.

As promised, the catcher asked for the killer pitch of the day, the curveball.

‘*From the beginning… a crucial moment.*’

He wanted to break through strongly.

He wanted to show that they couldn’t beat him just by figuring out his killer pitch.

He wanted to tell them to think about how to win the team championship rather than coming up with such shallow tricks.

So, the Baltimore Orioles’ ace went into the windup with a more determined expression than ever.

“…”

Vincent Hiyama clenched his teeth and stretched one leg long toward home plate.

Feeling the spikes firmly grip the dirt of the ground, feeling the power of his whole body being transmitted to his fingertips.

At that moment, he threw the curveball with all his might, the very ball he had been preparing while thinking only of the World Series.

Whoosh- Boom!

The curveball landed in the strike zone, drawing a trajectory like a waterfall.

The umpire of the day called a strike as if he had been waiting.

“Strike! Batter out!!!”

A huge cheer erupted from the ground.

Because he struck out the first batter in the top of the first inning.

Maybe right now, the broadcast booth is buzzing with stories about the ace’s new pitch.

But regardless-

‘*What is it?*’

Vincent Hiyama’s eyebrows were twitching slightly after striking out the first batter.

‘*The batter… didn’t react?*’

He naturally expected the bat to come out.

Thinking about that, he threw the ball with more attention to the angle.

But the Tampa Bay’s first batter struck out without even thinking of swinging the bat.

‘*If the bat didn’t touch it, that’s one thing, but not being able to time it at all means…*’

Swish.

Vincent Hiyama’s gaze turned to the Tampa Bay Rays’ dugout.

‘*Could it be… that they didn’t inform the players about my killer pitch?*’