The Prodigy Who Rejected the Major League Chapter 31

Chapter 31

 

Most pitchers who threw fast had one common problem: unstable control.

If they could fix that problem, they would become the team’s ace.

But if it were that easy, would everyone be doing it?

Compared to the United States and Japan, people often think that Korea uniquely produces many pitchers who throw hard but have poor control.

But the United States was no different.

It just didn’t stand out as much because the scale there was so enormous.

Every year, each team in the United States signs 30 to 50 new players through the rookie draft or international contracts. And for every player who comes in, another is released.

Across the entire minor league system, 900 to 1,500 players are replaced every year.

‘Seriously… I was brave only because I didn’t know.’

That’s how the minor leagues maintained a pool of just over 5,000 players every year.

Major League teams simply picked from among those 5,000-plus players.

And even after selecting from such a massive pool…

Were there really no pitchers in the Major Leagues who threw hard but struggled with control?

Anyway, back to the main point.

Even if a pitcher’s control is shaky at the moment, if the coaching staff trusts him enough to send him out in a game,

then it usually won’t stay that bad for the entire game.

If he can just get through that unstable beginning, many pitchers manage to settle down and carry the game for four or five innings.

Honestly, at the student level, if your fastball is simply good and fast, that alone is enough.

You can just aim straight down the middle and throw it in there.

Just keep stuffing it down the middle.

Then, once you see that the ball consistently lands in the zone, that’s when you start thinking about location.

I’m not talking about fancy ‘control.’

I’m talking about location.

Inside. Outside. High in the zone.

The question is simply whether you can consistently put the ball into one particular area.

 

[“Team Korea! With one out and the bases loaded, batter Song Seongjun steps into the box!

[“Isn’t he the most reliable hitter on the Korean national team!”]

 

The speed of the opposing Japanese pitcher’s fastball was exactly what Coach had said.

Even the scoreboard here showed 94.5 mph (152.1 km/h) to 95.6 mph (154 km/h).

However, those fastballs were missing the zone.

Looking at the pitches that had gotten strikes against the previous two batters, Park Geonhui and Woo Leejun, they were sliders and curves.

It seemed like he never had the timing to throw a splitter to Park Geonhui.

He did throw one splitter to Woo Leejun, but that guy had good plate discipline and held back on it perfectly.

I settled into the batter’s box and steadied my breathing.

Then I focused on the pitcher on the mound… Ishigaki Haruto.

Because the bases were loaded, the pitcher used a windup, the form that allowed him to put the most power into his pitch.

I prepared my swing accordingly.

All hitting mechanics work the same way.

First, you prepare to swing.

Then you decide whether to continue the swing or stop it.

The point at which I made that decision came much later than the average Major League hitter.

Because I watched the ball for a long time.

That was how I managed to survive against the insane pitch movements of Major League pitchers.

 

I stopped my bat mid-swing.

The pitch that had been entering the zone dropped downward.

87.5 mph (141 km/h).

“Ball!”

It was a splitter.

“Wow! Amazing.”

I immediately gave the Japanese catcher a thumbs-up.

What nerves of steel!

Or maybe it was because this was the country of splitter fanatics?

There was one out with the bases loaded.

For Japan, this was the moment they most needed to steal a first-pitch strike.

And yet…

they chose a bait splitter on the first pitch?

Heh… huh?

Then again, it wasn’t such an unfamiliar sight.

Among the Japanese pitchers I had seen in the Major Leagues, there were hardly any who weren’t obsessed with the splitter.

Honestly, when I saw Japanese pitchers in the MLB who didn’t rely on the splitter, I thought they were the weird ones.

That’s how much the splitter functioned as their finishing pitch.

Anyway.

I respected the Japanese battery’s decision.

If they had managed to pull a swing out of me, they could have started the count 0–1 in their favor.

“Strike.”

The second pitch was a slider.

I looked up at the scoreboard, now showing 1 ball, 1 strike.

“By the way…”

I started to say something.

“No, never mind.”

I decided not to.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m not trying to do anything. The umpire is watching, you know. Let’s focus on the game.”

“Tch.”

The Japanese catcher muttered under his breath.

Then came the third pitch.

“Ball.”

Another slider.

Another breaking ball.

That was unexpected.

Since the second slider had been a strike, maybe they thought they could pull the bat out with one farther outside?

“Running away? Where did that 158 km/h fastball go?”

“Tch.”

Heh. This guy was getting a little impatient.

I was just curious, so I asked.

All three pitches so far had been breaking balls, after all.

That was true, wasn’t it?

“Kuso.”

Heh… seriously.

Anyway, the visible result was 2 balls, 1 strike.

The count had now shifted in my favor.

This was a timing where I could start looking for a pitch.

If I were a guess hitter, I might pick a specific pitch type and sit on it.

But that wasn’t my style.

Whether it was four straight breaking balls, or they finally threw a fastball…

For me, hitting meant timing the fastball and adjusting to the breaking ball.

And that 158 km/h fastball I had asked the catcher about?

Honestly, it didn’t bother me much.

Japanese pitchers I had faced in the Majors shared one common trait.

Their fastballs were fast… but clean.

Some had high spin rates that made the ball drop less.

But I had never seen one who threw a dirty four-seam fastball with strong horizontal movement, like pitchers from Latin America.

From what I had seen in the on-deck circle, Ishigaki Haruto’s four-seam fastball was no different.

After exchanging a few friendly words with the Japanese catcher, the battery’s sign sequence grew longer.

The pitcher kept shaking his head.

It seemed he didn’t like the signs.

This made me think they might finally throw a fastball.

Not that I intended to sit on it.

After a bit of struggle,

The pitcher threw the fourth pitch.

Whoosh!

I stopped my bat again.

A high fastball… but it was too high.

Bang!

Maybe throwing four straight breaking balls felt like too much pressure.

He finally threw a fastball.

And as expected…

It was a clean, beautiful four-seam fastball.

“Ball.”

The home plate umpire didn’t raise his hand, but the speed was impressive.

97 mph (156.2 km/h).

When the scoreboard displayed the fastest pitch of the day, the Japanese cheering section erupted.

Honestly, fastballs had something about them that stirred people’s emotions.

Something that made the blood boil.

The count was now 3 balls, 1 strike.

Even though the count had become even more favorable for me,

that was exactly why I needed to focus even harder.

I believed that if the opportunity came, I would finish it.

But that meant I had to be even more careful.

And read the situation properly.

If Japan gave up another run, the score difference would become four runs.

From four runs onward, a comeback with a single swing was impossible.

On the mound, Ishigaki Haruto went into his windup again.

I could feel the strength behind it.

Whoosh!

Once again… a fastball?!

This time, I didn’t stop my bat.

It looked like it had landed just inside the outside borderline.

Fast.

But again… clean.

My swing flowed naturally like running water.

The baseball gently settled onto the sweet spot.

As always,

I didn’t force power into it.

I simply swung the way my body had been trained to do over countless years.

Aiming toward right-center field, I swung the bat.

CRACK!

A massive hit soared high over the center field fence of LECOM Park.

“WOOOOOO!”

“Song! Seong! Jun!”

“Home run! Hooray!”

This time, it was the Korean supporters whose cheers shook the stadium hosting the Super Round Game 1.

 

[“Song Seongjun! Back-to-back home runs! A grand slam, turning the score from 4–1 to 8–1!”]

[“The pitch Ishigaki Haruto just threw was 158 km/h, wasn’t it? And Song Seongjun crushed that fastball!”]

[“Another home run with incredible distance!”]

[“That’s right! It might have flown all the way to the Sea of Tranquility!”]

 

“Hahaha. The Sea of Tranquility again?”

Since it seemed related to the earlier “Sea of Tranquility” joke, I decided not to ask further.

 

[“Team Korea should ride the momentum and score three more runs here.”]

[“Are you suggesting a mercy-rule victory, Commissioner?”]

[“Yes, exactly. Japan is already in a groggy state. They’ve already given up eight runs. Adding three more? That’s not difficult.”]

 

Commentator Heo had no limit to his bold declarations.

 

***

 

“Whoa… that’s insane.”

“Seongjun is seriously crazy.”

“How far did that go?”

The national team players stared with mouths open at the place where my ball had landed.

It was the second massive home run today, but this one felt even more shocking.

“Did you see the speed on the scoreboard?”

“Yeah. 98.5 mph.”

“How many kilometers is that?”

“158.5.”

“Holy shit. That’s insane. Hahaha.”

Hearing it in numbers made it even more unbelievable.

“How far do you think it went?”

“I don’t know. Maybe 150 meters?”

Even the national team coaches were left speechless by Song Seongjun’s back-to-back bombs.

“Seongjun started exploding around the President’s Cup, right?”

“Yes.”

“That’s a relief.”

If he had been playing like this since spring, it would have been terrifying.

He would’ve been a natural disaster.

“The happiest man must be Manager Ha Man-su, whose team won the Phoenix Flag tournament.”

“Now that you mention it… hahaha.”

Because the national team players had already been called up, the Phoenix Flag tournament had been played without them.

In the quarterfinals, Masan Yongam High defeated Seongun High, then went on to win the championship ten days ago.

 

***

 

When I rounded the bases and entered the dugout, the atmosphere was completely different from the first inning.

Usually they would rush at me and smack my helmet like they were trying to break it.

But strangely… they simply held out their hands.

I high-fived each palm and sat down.

Hmm…

“What are you curious about?”

As soon as I spoke, someone asked.

“How did you hit that over?”

Heo Juwon pointed toward the Japanese pitcher on the mound.

Looking at the scoreboard again, the pitcher still had no control.

Three balls without a strike.

Maybe my home run had shaken his mentality.

Unless Oh Sejin chased something, it looked like he’d get a walk.

Anyway.

They were asking how I had sent that fastball over the fence.

“The ball was clean.”

Everyone looked confused.

Was that hard to understand?

“There was no movement at all. It just came straight in honestly.”

Like this.

You just swing the bat.

Then it fits right into the trajectory.

“….”

But why were their reactions like that?

Maybe a practice swing wasn’t enough for them to feel it.

Maybe I should’ve shown them with a bat.

“Seongjun.”

Heo Juwon put a hand on my shoulder.

“Never become a coach or manager later in life. Got it?”

***

When Oh Sejin walked and reached first base again,

Manager Jeong Juchan called over Sim Jeongwoo and the on-deck batter Yeo Eunho.

“Until you get two strikes, narrow the zone. Got it?”

In other words:

Only swing at perfect strikes.

The score gap had widened enormously.

There was no need to rush.

 

[“Oh! Sim Jeongwoo got hit on the arm!”]

[“It hit his elbow guard. Thankfully.”]

[“Even with the guard, that hurts a lot.”]

 

Sim Jeongwoo reached first base with a hit-by-pitch, loading the bases again.

 

[“Yeo Eunho steps into the box. This is already his second at-bat in the second inning.”]

 

That meant the lineup had already turned over once.

 

It showed just how long Korea’s offense had continued.

 

[“Japan’s manager Takemoto is heading to the mound with the ball from the umpire. That means a pitching change.”]

 

Ishigaki Haruto, Japan’s top prospect who could throw 158 km/h, left the mound without recording a single out, having allowed four runs.

 

[“Japan is already making its second pitching change of the second inning.”]

 

***

 

The third pitcher, the left-hander Okumura, came in.

 

[“This appears to be a matchup change targeting Yeo Eunho.”]

 

But as if to prove that strategy wrong,

Yeo Eunho lightly pushed an outside slider over the third baseman’s head.

The ball rolled all the way to the fence.

 

[“The runner from second, Oh Sejin, scores!”]

[“Sim Jeongwoo advances to third! Yeo Eunho reaches second!”]

 

Yeo Juhyeok grounded out, but the runner from third scored.

10–1.

The lead had grown to nine runs.

Yeo Eunho advanced to third.

Then another left-handed batter, Choi Ilhan, also succeeded against Okumura.

His hit went over the pitcher’s head and rolled into center field.

Japan’s attempt to target left-handed hitters with a left-handed pitcher completely failed.

11–1.

 

[“Didn’t I say adding three runs wouldn’t be difficult?”]

 

Of course, for a mercy rule victory, the ten-run lead had to remain until the end of the fifth inning.

 

[“That won’t be difficult either. I’ve been telling you that Japan is already groggy. Just score more runs and don’t give any up. Easy, right?”]

[“Hahaha. Commissioner Heo, your humor is great today.”]

[“Humor? I’m telling you… it’s going to happen.”]

 

And then… it actually happened.

In truth, it wasn’t entirely unpredictable.

After giving up a massive number of runs in the second inning, the Japanese players’ morale had already collapsed.

The score gap was simply too large to overcome.

And the U-18 tournament wasn’t a nine-inning game.

It was shortened to seven innings.

Anyone who had played baseball…or even just watched it regularly.

knew that a seven-inning game and a nine-inning game were completely different.

Maybe because of that,

The Japanese players’ performance afterward showed it clearly.

Both on offense and defense,

they repeatedly showed a complete lack of focus.

As a result…

15–3.

The game ended in the fifth inning with Korea winning by mercy rule.

And commentator Heo’s outrageous prediction… became a famous quote.