Genius Pitcher Hides 170Km [EN]: Chapter 315

#314. The Ace’s Will

“Daddy! Win the game today! I’ll be cheering for you!”

“Okay, Riley. Finish your homework before watching the game, and listen to your mom. Got it?”

“Yes, I will!”

“Good, then I’m off, honey.”

“I’m looking forward to a great game, Ryan.”

“Of course.”

Ryan, having said goodbye to his family, got into his car with a light heart.

Not long ago, Ryan used to collect supercars and enjoy driving them as a hobby. But after hearing that Han Su-hyeok doesn’t drive at all to prevent injuries, he immediately sold off all three of his supercars.

Come to think of it, Han Su-hyeok was right.

There could be situations while driving that require sudden movements. For example, if he suddenly turned the steering wheel or slammed on the brakes to avoid a pedestrian, his muscles could get strained, and that day’s appearance could be canceled.

Some might say it’s an excessive worry, but

he doesn’t care. Right now, he’s doing everything he can for the team and for himself.

“Hey, Ryan.”

“Bruce, what’s with those panties? They’re hideous.”

“They’re my wife’s. When my bat’s not hitting, these work like a charm.”

“Crazy, hahaha.”

Pushing past the silly duo loitering around the entrance with their strange panties, Ryan entered the locker room.

Having won both games against the LA Angels, who are third in the same division, Seattle is challenging for a series sweep today with Ryan on the mound.

Needless to say, it’s an important game. And fortunately, Ryan’s condition today is the best it could be.

“Ryan.”

“Yeah, Tony.”

Ryan exchanged greetings with Antonio Garcia, who is always taciturn but warm-hearted, and sat down to review the data of the batters he would face today.

He’s already seen it dozens of times, but there might still be something he missed.

Ryan, having watched the videos until the tablet’s battery was almost dead, suddenly clicked on the game video of the recent match against Texas, in which Han Su-hyeok pitched.

“Hmm…….”

Someone once said this:

Living in the same era as Han Su-hyeok is like a curse for other players.

A colossal wall that is impossible to overcome as a batter and as a pitcher.

Of course, this wasn’t the first time such a presence had appeared in Major League Baseball. And there were more than a few players who were treated as eternal runners-up, overshadowed by such players.

If we turn back the clock to before World War II, there was Lou Gehrig, who recorded 47 home runs and 173 RBIs and won the league MVP, but was still treated as a runner-up, overshadowed by Babe Ruth, who was called baseball itself. And if we come to more modern baseball, there was Curt Schilling, who led the Arizona Diamondbacks’ golden age in the early 2000s but had to concede the top spot to the giant Randy Johnson.

And now, in 2030, people were regarding Ryan as a symbol of an unfortunate runner-up.

It might be unfair for a pitcher with a record of 14 wins and 5 losses, an ERA [Earned Run Average, a measure of pitching performance] of 2.45, and a WHIP [Walks plus Hits per Inning Pitched, another measure of pitching performance] of 1.05 to be labeled as a runner-up, but

it couldn’t be helped because there was a monster on the same team who had pitched fewer games and still recorded 15 wins and an ERA of 0.49.

Until the middle of this season, Ryan had to worry a lot because of Han Su-hyeok, whom he could never surpass no matter how hard he tried.

He felt guilty for holding the position of the first starter with worse stats than Han Su-hyeok, so he went to see the manager, and sometimes he followed Han Su-hyeok around to try to catch up with him.

Nevertheless, nothing changed.

Han Su-hyeok was still an insurmountable wall, and he was just an ordinary pitcher.

If Han Su-hyeok didn’t exist, Ryan Thibodeau himself would be the best pitcher in the American League?

What’s the point of such a meaningless assumption?

A monster named Han Su-hyeok is breathing right next to him like this.

“Hey, Ryan. Why the long face?”

“Why else? It’s because of you.”

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

“Never mind. More importantly, take this. Riley asked me to give it to a pretty lady.”

“What is it? A handkerchief? Ah, did Riley embroider the initials herself?”

“That’s right. Give it to Min Ye-rin.”

“Okay, I will.”

But Ryan has now decided not to cower in front of Han Su-hyeok or hide his true feelings.

It’s partly because he’s gotten closer to him through their recent dinner together, but more than that, he’s realized that acknowledging Han Su-hyeok’s existence and admitting his own shortcomings will help him grow as a player in the long run.

He’s him, and I’m me.

And at this moment, what Ryan wants most is not a personal title but Seattle’s division championship and a trip to the World Series.

The most necessary and most powerful ally for that is Han Su-hyeok.

He is not someone to overcome but a teammate to rely on.

“Damn it, I have to hit a home run again today.”

“Huh?”

“You have to. Otherwise, Riley might cry.”

“Hmm, well, I’ll try.”

“Don’t try, just do it. Knock it out of the park altogether.”

* * *

Whoosh

“Swing! Out!”

“Ryan. Your pitches are good today, huh?”

“Really?”

“At least, they look the best they’ve been all season to me.”

“Oh… is that so.”

Season’s tenth game against the Angels,

Ryan Thibodeau, our team’s starting pitcher, struck out senior Lee Chan-ho, who was playing as the third batter in today’s game.

I complimented him on the pitch he just threw as he returned to the dugout, and he seems happier than I expected.

Hmm,

Is this what it’s like?

“Play!”

Recently, Ye-rin has been telling me whenever she sees me.

To be more honest with my emotions.

She said she hopes I learn to say when I like something, when I dislike something, and when I’m having a hard time.

Her words reminded me of her from the past, who is now slowly being forgotten.

She said something similar.

She hoped I would become someone who can love and be loved.

In that sense, I am trying to be a more honest person, following Ye-rin’s advice.

Thwack!

“Out!”

Derek was retired with a ground ball out in two pitches, and it was my turn to step up to the plate.

Today, I played as the second batter and left fielder. And with Tiger missing from the game to manage his stamina, Chuck Clark was placed right behind me.

What that means is that I might get a barrage of balls thrown at me again today.

To prevent such a situation in advance…….

“Hey, how have you been?”

“…Were we ever on terms to exchange friendly greetings?”

Luis Herrera, the Angels’ catcher who was hastily wearing a mask today, looked at me with a slightly dumbfounded expression at my sudden greeting.

Wait,

Let’s jog my memory. When was the last time I met this guy…….

“Well, I was a little harsh last time.”

“Harsh? Is that something you can just gloss over by saying it was a little harsh? You son of a bitch.”

Was that in April or May? I remember mentioning this guy’s immaturity in an interview.

Actually, it wasn’t 100% my true feelings. I was just thinking that by provoking this catcher, I might be able to gain some advantage at the plate…….

Well, yeah, let’s be an honest person, as Ye-rin advised.

“I apologize if you felt bad. But those were my true feelings.”

“…You’re saying it was your true feeling that an idiot who can’t even catch the ball properly is sitting behind home plate? Is this an apology or are you picking a fight?”

“Well, I just want to be honest.”

“You son of a bitch…….”

Look at this.

When I was honest with Ryan, he thanked me, but this guy responds to my honest confession with curses.

But I decided to be patient and let it go this once.

Because I’m a man who needs to be honest.

“To be honest, the reporter distorted my words as they pleased back then.”

“…What did you say?”

“To be exact… Ah, even if you put a scarecrow there, it would probably catch the ball better than…….”

“You son of a bitch!”

It’s backfiring.

I should postpone being honest for a bit. A ball might fly at my head like this.

I waited for the pitcher’s ball, matching the rhythm to the sound of the catcher’s snorting.

The Angels’ manager I know is an old-school type who doesn’t give signs from the bench unless it’s an unusual situation, believing that catchers grow when they can lead the pitcher themselves.

Even if this clueless guy is a backup catcher and not a regular, that principle will still apply.

It’s only the bottom of the first inning now, less than 30 minutes after the game started.

I might hardly get a chance to hit the ball today.

That’s because of the absence of Ty Johnson, and also because of the Angels’ position, who are cornered with two consecutive losses.

If so, I’ll aim for it.

I will definitely seize this batting opportunity, which might be the first and last one today.

Rustle

The ball I should aim for is a high, ambiguous ball that is neither a threatening ball nor a strike, thrown by an angry catcher and a pitcher whose anger has been transferred.

Adjust the position of the grip, widen the stance slightly to prepare for inside pitches, and

match it to the pitcher’s maximum speed of 98 miles, one, two,

Thwaaaaaaaaaack!

“Waaaaaaaah!”

“It went over again! It’s number 57!”

Well, it seems that people get rewarded if they are honest.

I’m glad I followed Ye-rin’s advice.

“Nice, that was a great ball.”

“…You son of a bitch.”

* * *

My prediction that there would be no more chances was accurate.

After the home run in the first at-bat, not a single strike came my way.

Three consecutive walks, and with Ty Johnson also missing, our batting lineup, whose cohesion had weakened, failed to add a single point other than my home run.

But we had Ryan Thibodeau, the first starter who wanted Seattle’s victory more than anyone else.

Whoosh

Whoosh

“Swing! Out!”

“That’s right! That’s it! Fucking! Ryan! You’re the best!”

“Just two more! Just two more!”

Senior Lee Chan-ho, who struck out for the second time after the first at-bat, retreated to the dugout with a look of utter despair.

Just looking at the fact that Lee Chan-ho secured the position of the team’s third batter only two years after entering the Big League, it is clear that he is a legendary talent who would not easily emerge from the KBO League [Korean Baseball Organization].

However, if he fails to overcome his weakness against fastballs on the inside of the body, no one knows what will happen in the next season in Major League Baseball.

Should I tell him outright after today’s game?

That if he doesn’t fix the habit of flinching every time an inside pitch comes, he might have to pack his bags.

Isn’t that cruel?

No, I’m just a man who is trying to be honest.

Whoosh

Wham

“Strike!”

1 to 0, a precarious victory by one point.

Even though Ryan’s pitch count had exceeded 110, manager Benjamin still seemed to trust him.

I agree as well.

To become an ace of a team, you must be able to overcome crises on your own in moments like these.

Whoosh

Thwack

“Foul!”

He seemed to be in good condition today, and as expected, even as he entered the ninth inning, his pitches were full of power.

The batter who hit the foul was regretting it, but that ball was a very good pitch that went into a course that could only be a foul no matter how it was hit.

Ryan, who was clearly full of spirit even from afar, threw a decisive pitch towards the Angels’ fourth batter.

Whoosh

“Swing! Out!”

The changeup that he’s been having fun with recently.

The changeup, which came in below the zone and fell as if it would crash into the ground, induced the batter’s swing.

Two outs.

Now, only one out is needed for a shutout victory.

Raymond Perkins, who was once called one of the best hitters in the American League but is now old and has been pushed from third to fifth, stepped up to the plate.

A battle between a right-handed pitcher who enjoys inside pitches and a right-handed hitter who likes to pull.

The probability of the ball flying to the left side of the ground is 80%.

It’s time to concentrate.

Whoosh

Wham

“Strike!”

The start is good for now.

The batter couldn’t even react to the surprise fastball that filled the high outside course.

I turned my head and looked at the scoreboard.

96 miles, this is the fastest ball Ryan can throw in the ninth inning.

I thought about throwing it one more time in the same course, but the voice that came through the pitchcom [a communication system between the catcher and pitcher] pointed to a completely different place.

A changeup that falls to the low inside course.

Well, I don’t think I would throw it there if I were him.

But there was no way for me, standing in the left fielder position, to send such a sign to the pitcher on the mound far away.

For some reason, I had an ominous feeling, so I moved my position one step behind the spot designated by the dugout, closer to the fence.

And,

Thwaaaaaack!

Along with the heavy hitting sound that could be heard clearly even from this far away, I immediately started running.

My hunch was right. That experienced veteran batter already knew that Ryan would throw a low inside pitch.

The well-hit ball, so clearly hit that there was no need to even find the landing spot, flew like a bullet towards the other side of the fence.

“No!”

“Please! Please!”

The most difficult ball for an outfielder to handle is a ball that flies over their head without any time to react.

When following such a ball, even a slight hesitation can be fatal.

As quickly as possible, at the fastest speed I can muster,

At the same time, I fixed my gaze on the direction the ball was flying and the audience sitting there.

When it’s difficult to catch the exact point where the ball will fall with my own eyes due to the running speed, the movements of the audience can sometimes be helpful.

“Get out of the way! Don’t come here! Damn it! No! I said no!”

“Aaaaaaah!”

My thoughts were correct.

The three spectators sitting right in front of the fence were screaming and avoiding their seats.

Sensing that this was where the ball would fall, I used the acceleration I had gained to jump towards the fence as it was.

Kicking off the fence with both feet, grabbing the top of the fence with my right hand,

High, a little higher,

Jump,

Thud

“Waaaaaaaaaaaaaah!”

“He got it! Han Su-hyeok! Damn it! He caught that!”

“Waaaaah, Su-hyeok oppa! Oppaaaaa!”

Along with a heavy sensation, the ball was sucked into the glove.

“Out!”

The batter, who was heading slowly to first base thinking it was a home run, stopped in his tracks with a dumbfounded expression, and Derek, who was running towards me for backup, pointed at me with a gesture as if it was unbelievable.

And,

From far away on the mound, the ace of this team, who loves Seattle more than anyone else, was clenching his fist and looking at me.

Well, I guess this is worth the price of the handkerchief I received today.

Wait, Ye-rin received the gift, but why do I feel like I owe her?

That’s strange.

What kind of relationship do I have with h…….

Hmm.