The Prodigy Who Rejected the Major League Chapter 11

Chapter 11

 

All the scouts at Mokdong Baseball Stadium began to stir.

A pitching change? Sure. It was a reasonable enough moment for one.

Watching Coach Bae of Seongun High swap pitchers without hesitation, they had admittedly felt a touch of unease.

The problem was…

The pitcher coming in was Song Seongjun.

“Why is Song Seongjun going up?”

“What is this?”

“Is this a hidden camera prank?”

Not a single person… whether a KBO scout or a Major League scout, failed to react in shock.

“Coach Bae Seonggon… what did you hide this time?”

Center fielder Song Seongjun had already been absurd enough.

“Now it’s pitcher Song Seongjun? Is this another surprise?”

Once again, something had happened that no one had any prior information about.

It was even more shocking than Song Seongjun in center field.

If they had been winning by a large margin, it might have made sense.

Pushing for a mercy-rule win would have been far more advantageous.

Still, it would at least have been possible.

But right now, it was only a one-run game.

And hadn’t the flow of the game been back-and-forth the entire time, like a ping-pong match?

Lead changes. Then another reversal. And another.

“Does he have any pitching appearances on record?”

“No!”

In a situation this critical, Coach Bae Seonggon had put in Song Seongjun, a player who didn’t have a single recorded pitching appearance, not even in high school unofficial games.

How were they supposed to interpret this?

“Guess he can throw a little.”

Right. If he could throw a little, that’s why they put him in as a pitcher.

It wasn’t unheard of for a catcher to switch to pitching.

“But this is what scares me.”

“Same. You think Coach Bae would put him in just because he ‘throws a little’?”

Hadn’t they already seen the case of center fielder Song Seongjun? That was only three days ago.

On the mound, Song Seongjun delivered his first warm-up pitch.

The mechanics were smooth.

The scouts immediately checked the velocity on the scoreboard.

[145 km/h]

“145? And that’s a warm-up?”

The second pitch read 147 km/h.

And the third…

[149 km/h]

Why was his velocity increasing with each warm-up pitch?

No one could keep their mouths as they watched him continue.

“What did I tell you? I knew this would happen. There’s no way Coach Bae would’ve sent him up without a reason.”

 

***

 

Watching Song Seongjun’s ominous warm-up, Toronto scout Christian Romero pulled a speed gun from his bag.

The stadium gun was only a reference point.

 

92.85 mph (149.5 km/h)

93.35 mph (150.3 km/h)

 

His gun was reading about 1 km/h faster.

“His warm-up pitches are already over 93 miles.”

Why had a player like this never appeared on the mound once in his three years of high school?

After finishing his allotted warm-up pitches…

Bottom of the 8th. Suduk High’s leadoff batter stepped in.

With a windup, Song Seongjun threw his first pitch in an official high school tournament game.

Shoooo!

The ball pierced through the air into the catcher’s mitt.

Paang!

Along with the pop…

94.72 mph (152.5 km/h)

“Whew.”

The velocity itself was ordinary.

Ninety-four miles per hour was average for Major League pitchers.

The minors were full of prospects who threw 100.

But this wasn’t the same 94.

The impact was different.

The pitcher who had just thrown 94 mph had hit two home runs three days ago, including a 459-foot blast.

Earlier today, he had hit another home run in his first at-bat.

His primary position was catcher. And in center field today, his reads were clean, his range wide. His aggressive defense left little to criticize.

Honestly, he looked even better in center field now than he had wearing the catcher’s mask three days ago.

Song Seongjun began his second windup.

The batter swung…

A miss.

95.46 mph (153.7 km/h)

Then the third pitch.

Paang!

96.34 mph (155.1 km/h)

“Whoa. Whew!”

Christian let out a whistle.

“In that case, should we be thanking Texas? Hahaha.”

A faint chuckle followed.

Toronto had failed to sign Moon Seungchan. Texas had offered $2 million… more than Toronto.

Yet in just a few days, something far better had appeared.

“Well.”

The emergence of a prospect with even greater upside was certainly welcome.

But it wasn’t something they could celebrate outright.

Moon Seungchan’s destination had been decided, yet many teams’ scouts were still here today.

“They must want to further confirm his potential as a power-hitting outfielder.”

After what Song Seongjun showed three days ago, any scout who didn’t come today didn’t deserve the title.

“It’s not something we can simply be happy about.”

All of them had just seen it.

From a power-hitting outfielder… now even pitching potential.

From this point on…

Was there any club that wouldn’t set its sights on him?

Especially since Moon Seungchan had already set a benchmark at $2 million.

“How much time remains until the KBO draft registration deadline?”

They’d reportedly been in talks early on with the Phillies, but negotiations had dragged.

That was understandable.

“They probably tried to lowball him, judging him only as a catcher.”

So of course, he hadn’t decided.

“Twenty days remain until the deadline.”

But the fact that he hadn’t committed yet… didn’t that mean America was still an option?

Christian decided he needed to contact the scouting director immediately.

 

***

 

It wasn’t just the scouts who were stunned by Song Seongjun taking the mound.

His parents were just as shocked.

Seeing the velocity flashing on the board only stunned them further.

“Hon… is that really our son?”

[154 km/h]

“Ho ho ho.”

His father only kept laughing.

He hadn’t seen his son pitch since elementary school.

After the summer of his second year of middle school, he had been exclusively a catcher.

Then suddenly, he was playing the outfield.

And now, going a step further, he was pitching.

And pitching very well.

“154…”

Even if he was my son… isn’t this insane?

“Hyung, since when did Seongjun start pitching?”

The two families had remained close ever since their children were classmates in kindergarten.

Seunghye’s father was older, so they naturally called each other older brother and younger brother.

“He never said he was pitching.”

“I know.”

“Don’t tell me… You didn’t know either?”

“No. I just found out he was playing outfield, too.”

“Oh my goodness. Really?”

“Yes. Really. That brat.”

Seongjun’s father shook his head.

“Ah! Before the game! Seongjun said there’d be a surprise. He must’ve meant this!”

Seunghee clapped her hands.

“But what’s up with your boyfriend?”

She nudged Seunghye’s side.

“Just call him Seongjun. And I didn’t know either.”

She was irritated. How could he hide something this big so perfectly?

Not that he had refused to tell her when she asked…

 

—

 

“How’s his pitch?”

In the on-deck circle, Heo Junseo asked the batter returning after striking out swinging.

“Go in and see for yourself.”

They had been facing mid-140 km/h all game.

Suddenly, the velocity jumped by nearly 10 km/h.

And Seongun High didn’t even have a 150 km/h pitcher.

Yet one had just appeared out of nowhere, throwing over 150.

Of cours,e the batters would be shaken.

Shoooo!

Hik!

A fastball came screaming inside. Junseo instinctively jerked backward.

Paang!

“Strike!”

[154 km/h]

Because of the low arm angle, it felt even more inside than it was.

The second pitch… same thing.

“Strike!”

He barely managed to foul off the third.

“Foul!”

Then the pitcher on the mound tilted his head. Even made a few empty-arm motions.

For some reason, it reminded him of facing Moon Seungchan of Jeongchun High.

Ah, damn. Don’t start that.

When Moon Seungchan didn’t like something, he threw even harder.

The problem was, sometimes when that happened, he’d lose control.

Junseo tightened his grip on the bat, tense and ready to bail at any moment.

Song Seongjun delivered.

Thankfully(?) it came into the zone.

With the count against him, if a pitch came middle, you swung.

Whoosh…

Except the ball never arrived.

Heo Minseo’s bat sliced through empty air, his body spinning as he collapsed to the ground.

“Swing! Strike. Out!”

Dazed, he asked the Seongun High sophomore catcher,

“What was that?”

“Changeup.”

“Ah. A changeup.”

Right. Changeup. Haha. Changeup.

Muttering the word under his breath, he left the batter’s box.

Jeong Taehyeong in the on-deck circle asked him,

“How is it?”

He gave the same answer he’d heard earlier.

There was nothing else to say.

“Go in and see for yourself.”

 

***

 

After striking out all three batters in the 8th, I took the mound again in the 9th.

“Seongjun, just relax and throw, okay? Just throw your pitch. Nothing complicated.”

When he boldly sent me out in the 8th, he seemed fearless.

Now he was worrying.

“Yes, don’t worry.”

Coach probably thought my pitching experience was shallow.

But that wasn’t true.

When I first converted from catcher to pitcher in the minors, I threw just to survive. If not for injuries, I might have made the big leagues as a pitcher.

After regressing, I pitched in blowouts to save the bullpen.

It went well. Gradually, I started eating more garbage innings.

Later, when the relievers were unavailable from overuse, I’d go in to cover.

There was nothing to worry about.

In the 9th as well, I retired all three Suduk High batters.

“Game over!”

We defeated Suduk High and advanced to the quarterfinals.

 

***

 

That evening, after the games of the 28th Presidential National High School Baseball Tournament…

General Manager Hong of the Daegu Basens summoned the entire scouting team.

“We are revising our draft strategy entirely.”

Last year, the club finished last in the league for the first time in its history. From the GM down to the coaching staff, everyone had been replaced.

Hong Joongil took office as the new general manager.

This year’s results were still poor, but he had the excuse that it wasn’t his roster.

The draft, however, was different.

It was the first real test of the franchise’s new direction.

For Hong Joongil, this year’s draft was more important than anything.

It had long been considered a given that the Basens would select Seong Jinseong first overall.

With Moon Seungchan and Yoo Hyeondo both choosing to go to the U.S., honestly, there hadn’t been another option.

But now, with 20 days left before draft registration closed, a massive variable had emerged.

The meteoric rise of Daegu Seongun High’s Song Seongjun.

“We go two-track. Prepare accordingly.”