Chapter 4 — You Put a Guy Like That in the No. 2 Spot?
The foundation of baseball was defense.
And a stable mound.
If you had those two things, you could usually experience what people called postseason baseball.
Because statistically speaking, preventing runs was more important than simply scoring more of them.
If I had to grade Park Seonghyeon’s time as a coach, I would give him an 80 out of 100.
That was because he constantly emphasized that players had to master the fundamentals first if they wanted to avoid mistakes when it truly mattered later.
Perhaps because of that, the Saeum High players weren’t particularly bad when it came to the basics.
Whether catching or throwing, they at least looked like proper baseball players.
The problem, however, was hitting.
Maybe they simply lacked talent from the beginning, but none of them could get a proper hit off the batting practice pitches Park Seonghyeon threw.
Our practice game against Jeil High was only an hour away, yet all I could do was sigh.
[Surprise Mission: Defeat Jeil High.]
Reward: +1 Stat Point
Getting one stat point after throwing 100 pitches had already been significant.
It directly affected things like my velocity and pitch movement.
And now it was going to give me another stat point without making me throw 100 pitches?
Then I had no choice.
Looks like I had to take batting seriously too.
“Coach.”
“Hm? What is it?”
I spoke while the players were packing their equipment.
“Put me in the No. 2 spot.”
The batting order had already been more or less decided.
Since I was a pitcher, I had been placed ninth.
Naturally, hitters at the bottom of the lineup didn’t get as many opportunities.
That was why I wanted a batting position where I would receive more plate appearances.
Of course, batting cleanup would have been even better, but that only mattered if the table setters in the first and second spots actually managed to get on base.
Judging from what I had seen during batting practice, expecting that much from them seemed hopeless.
In that case, the No. 2 spot made the most sense.
In modern baseball, putting a powerful hitter second in the lineup had become increasingly popular.
Besides, the guy batting first wasn’t bad.
Was his name Kwon Geonwoo?
If I remembered correctly, he joined an independent baseball team before eventually turning pro and writing his own success story.
Coach Park Seonghyeon adjusted his glasses and looked at me.
“Seong-ah…”
“Yes?”
“You hit in the .100s last year.”
I couldn’t deny that.
Until I started my professional career in the KBO, I had been absolutely terrible at hitting.
But Hiroshima in the NPB didn’t use a designated hitter at the time, so I had no choice but to pay some attention to batting as well.
During my first year, I struggled with a batting average in the .100s.
But after beginning to understand hitting, I hit ten home runs the following season and helped Hiroshima win the first championship in franchise history.
There was one thing I realized back then.
The strike zone could be divided into nine sections.
Since I was also a pitcher, whenever an opponent threw the ball, I could roughly predict which pitch he was going to use.
After that, all I needed to do was use the database to analyze where that pitcher most frequently threw that particular pitch.
Through that kind of thorough analysis, I managed to hit plenty of home runs.
Unexpectedly, though, my talent as a hitter truly blossomed in the MLB.
In my first season after joining Cleveland, I hit twenty home runs as a pitcher.
Even after the designated hitter disappeared in America, there were still occasionally players like me.
For example, there was a certain pitcher who started out as a two-way player in Japan and went on to become a legend.
I could show them.
No matter how famous or powerful Jeil High was nationwide, this was still high school baseball.
“You won’t regret it.”
I said only that.
Nothing more.
Park Seonghyeon tilted his head.
Then he eventually nodded.
“Ha… Fine. Talented prospects who are good pitchers usually tend to be good position players too…”
Before leaving for Jeil High, Coach Park Seonghyeon gathered everyone together one last time.
Their faces and uniforms were covered in dirt.
That was because I had given them a little motivation.
Well, calling it motivation might have been generous.
I had basically told them what would happen to this baseball team if this class failed to produce even a single professional player.
The threat worked better than expected.
What I told them was simple.
If Saeum High failed to show anything this year, the team would be disbanded.
In reality, Park Seonghyeon would be fired, and the team would be dissolved without providing any proper support for the remaining students.
Even if they transferred to another school, there was no guarantee they would succeed there.
Forget succeeding.
They probably wouldn’t even receive a chance to start.
I explained that reality to them in painful detail.
“Where did you hear that our team is going to be disbanded?”
“The principal.”
Of course, I hadn’t actually heard anything.
I had seen it happen in the future.
Still, the players must have already sensed some degree of danger because they nodded and returned to practice.
This could be their final season.
Whether you were a professional or a young prospect still growing, that was practically a death sentence.
They had dedicated their entire lives to baseball.
If someone suddenly told them to give it up and do something else, who would willingly nod and agree?
Every single one of them dreamed of becoming a professional player.
Anyway, Park Seonghyeon smiled broadly as he gathered the players together.
I knew that expression.
It was the face he made whenever he was about to cry.
At times like this, Park Seonghyeon always smiled even wider.
I didn’t understand why everyone looked like dogs being dragged into a slaughterhouse.
Stand tall.
All we had to do was win today.
“As all of you know, we’ve played a practice game against Jeil High about once every two months every year. Since we’re in the same district, we’ve also faced them often in the weekend league.”
He paused.
“But we’ve never beaten them. Twenty-one games, twenty-one losses. That’s our reality.”
Then he grinned.
“However, if we win today, we’ll finally be able to use the running track freely!”
The players immediately began murmuring among themselves.
Why was this man hiding the most important fact right now?
Did he think they would make mistakes if he put too much pressure on them?
I spoke up.
“If we lose, the team’s probably getting disbanded. The soccer coach is apparently going to recommend to the principal that our team be shut down.”
Everyone fell silent.
Then they all stared at me.
Coach Park Seonghyeon started sweating profusely, clearly flustered.
Everyone was looking at me, but strangely, I felt completely calm.
Why should I care?
I was confident about this game.
“…Seong is right.”
Park Seonghyeon lowered his head.
“This is all my fault. I couldn’t hold myself back when the soccer coach acted disrespectfully, so I made a bet with him.”
The players listened silently.
“If we win, we won’t have to worry about the soccer team anymore, and we’ll be able to practice freely on the field.”
He hesitated.
“But if we lose… the team gets disbanded.”
Then he bowed his head.
“I’m sorry.”
He was taking all the blame himself?
What the hell?
Was this guy some kind of embodiment of agape love?
My eyes widened in surprise.
Then something tightened deep inside my chest.
This man had always been on my side.
In my previous life.
And in this life too.
Park Seonghyeon raised his head again.
“Let’s win.”
His voice became stronger.
