章 109: <109> All-In Gamble

Chapter 109: All-In Gamble

"The Akagi Junior High School bench is making a move! Sendo Akira, the true strategist behind this team, is standing up and shouting instructions. What kind of plan will he come up with?"

The commentator's voice boomed across the stadium, drawing everyone's attention.

The audience watched as Sendo stepped out from the sunken dugout, raising one hand and pointing decisively toward the field.

Nobody knew what he had planned, but the answer came within seconds.

"This is…!!!

"A nine-man infield! Following yesterday's game, Akagi has once again resorted to this all-or-nothing strategy. It seems they're ready to stake everything on this decisive moment!"

"With the score still at zero hits and zero runs, a single run could decide everything. Akagi is clearly aiming to settle the game here and now."

"Though their opponents' hits so far have barely made it past the infield and none have reached the outfield, the situation remains dire. Will this desperate countermeasure be a miraculous comeback or a fatal misstep? Let's wait and see!"

Everyone familiar with the sport knew the gap in strength between the two teams was undeniable.

While the nine-man infield is reckless and unconventional, nobody mocked the strategy—it was their last glimmer of hope, a move born of sheer desperation.

It's the kind of tactic most wouldn't even consider attempting.

In the world of baseball, this kind of move defies logic, a suicidal strategy under normal circumstances.

Yet, adapting it to fit the specific traits of both teams shows a certain brilliance in thinking.

A move destined to fail in most scenarios can, in the right circumstances, become a masterstroke, like yesterday's surprise attack or today's potential lifeline.

Akagi had already proven the effectiveness of this strategy once.

The crowd erupted in cheers upon seeing this formation.

Their applause wasn't about taking sides but rather admiration for Akagi's audacity.

A coach daring to call such a play and players willing to execute it was more than enough to earn their respect.

It's like a casual passerby clapping for a spectacular play on a local field—this is the charm of competitive sports.

Baseball, a game that demands the highest level of tactical planning, is akin to a simulated battlefield. Victory often hinges on the decisions made by the dugout.

Unlike yesterday, today's nine-man infield is no longer seen as a disrespectful tactic.

Tokugawa's players, understanding its gravity, wouldn't lose their cool or underperform because of it.

As the commentator put it, Akagi has gone all in.

Whether they'll suppress their opponents and counterattack in the next inning or collapse entirely in this one remains unknown, even to Sendo himself.

Sendo knew that throughout history, the weak have only triumphed over the strong through surprise attacks.

The success of a surprise depends largely on luck. Using an unexpected move to take one last shot—if not now, then when?

The nine-man infield was only part of the strategy. The offensive setup had been hidden for half a year.

"Nine-man infield! Excellent! Let's see what you've got!" Tokugawa's cleanup hitter, standing in the batter's box, stared intently at Akagi's defense, his fighting spirit clearly ignited.

At the same time, Tokugawa's defense was also adjusting.

Despite being a powerhouse team, Tokugawa's coach, Kunimi, lacked the usual confidence of a dominant team, constantly issuing commands throughout the game.

"Stealing a base?" Sendo quickly signaled to the field.

This wasn't a guess by Sendo but the result of earlier practice games where Tokugawa catcher had accidentally stumbled upon a way to decode signals.

During those games, Sendo had indeed cracked the opponent's signals but hadn't paid much attention since signals weren't consistent.

In this game, however, the frequent commands from Tokugawa's bench had allowed Akagi to fully decode their signals.

Signal decoding is common in baseball, though less so in school-level games.

Influenced by professional baseball, top-tier high school teams rarely rely heavily on signals, leaving decisions to their players. This makes sudden commands hard to decode.

In professional baseball, every team uses multiple sets of signals to prevent decoding.

However, school teams rarely have the time to memorize even one full set, given their academic commitments.

Some players joked about spending three years learning their team's signals.

For high school teams, the strategy often starts with mastering their own signals and gradually expanding their understanding.

Through careful observation over the game, Akagi had cracked both the catcher's and the bench's signals.

They had held back until now, gambling everything on the late innings when their opponents were most exhausted, seeking a slim chance to turn the tables.

If they failed and their decoded signals were exposed, they'd have no choice but to surrender.

Yet only an opponent of this caliber, with relatively simple signals, could be cracked this quickly.

"First pitch… here it comes!"

"Stealing!"

Pop!

"Strike!"

Shin immediately used a technique Sendo had taught him—planting his foot, then stepping with his left and right legs in sequence to generate momentum for the throw.

This technique allowed catchers with weaker arms to deliver throws nearly as fast as those with strong arms.

Pop!

"Safe!"

The play was razor-close, with the ball and runner arriving simultaneously.

The tag was just a fraction of a second too late.

Sawamura's side-arm pitching style and relatively slow average speed of just over 120 km/h also played a role in the close call.

"Successful steal! Despite the risk, the runner made it safely to third! Akagi is in serious trouble now. With no outs and a runner on third, a forced run or a sacrifice fly could secure a point. How will Akagi handle this crisis?"

"What nonsense is that, commentator! Forced run? Sacrifice fly? I'm the cleanup hitter! I'm going to knock it out of the park!" Tokugawa's batter thought to himself upon hearing the commentary.

Not only the batter but also Akagi's defense showed no signs of wavering. Their eyes burned with determination, almost to the point of madness.

"Second pitch!"

Whoosh!

Crack!

"Foul ball!"

...

"Damn it! No matter where I pitch, he hits it! This batter is really persistent! And Ei-chan's strikes and balls are way too obvious! I don't have Sen-chan's ability to guide the game, so I guess I'll just have to face him head-on!" Shin resolved in his heart, but at that moment, he saw Sendo signaling from the bench.

"Huh?" Shin was surprised by the signal but quickly executed it.

"The catcher! The catcher is standing up! Intentional walk! Akagi has decided to intentionally walk the batter! And this directive comes straight from the bench."

In this situation, Sawamura showed no resistance. He could feel the fighting spirit of everyone on the team—they wanted to win!

"Ball four! Intentional walk!"

"Now it's runners on first and third with one out!"

But the surprises didn't end there.

"The fifth batter is stepping up to the plate, but the catcher still isn't crouching. Is he planning to call a timeout? Wait—another intentional walk? Could Akagi's bench really be signaling to intentionally walk the fourth and fifth batters in a row?"

And just like that, after walking the fourth batter, Akagi chose to walk the fifth batter as well, loading the bases.

Everyone knows that the loaded-bases strategy is high-risk, high-reward.

A single hit could result in a flurry of runs, but on the flip side, with the bases loaded, runners are forced to advance, making double or even triple plays a real possibility.

With Akagi's nine-man infield, a ground ball could potentially lead to multiple outs in one play.

Given Akagi's precarious situation, where conceding even a single run might mean losing the game, this was a gamble between heaven and hell.

The nine-man infield was already thrilling enough, but now, adding the loaded-bases tactic, the crowd's collective heartbeat seemed to rise to their throats.

"This is the fourth time through the lineup. It's clear that facing their key batters head-on is essentially conceding the game. If they hit even one decent ball, it's game over for us. But if that's the case, why not take our chances against the relatively weaker sixth batter? Even if he hits to the outfield or an area where our nine-man infield is vulnerable, I'll concede. The priority is not conceding runs at all. Otherwise, what's the point?" Sendo thought to himself, fully disagreeing with the commentator's assumptions.

He knew the stakes better than anyone: "One run—we might still have a chance. Two runs…no way." Despite the gravity of the situation, he recognized this inning as the turning point, the defining moment of the entire game.

"And that sixth batter…he's definitely not someone with a strong mental game. The pressure on him is enormous. It's less pressure and more like overstimulation. Holding the key to victory in his hands, there's no way he's calm! If I remember correctly, when we were about to win last time, his expression was off. So, let's see… Will he channel this pressure into strength to clinch the victory for his team? Or…" Sendo smirked internally.

"Will he send us straight to hell?"

No matter what others thought or said, time marched on, and the game continued.

Just as Sendo predicted, while Tokugawa was undoubtedly the stronger team, today, Akagi's players, inspired by Sendo's speech the day before, had pushed themselves to their limits.

With steadfast defense, they forced the game into the sixth inning.

Though cracks were beginning to show in their ironclad defense, even Tokugawa's players couldn't help but feel the weight of the situation.

The score remained tied at 0–0. On one hand, Tokugawa was pleased their opponents were down to their final gambit; on the other, they were overwhelmed by the pressure of being expected to deliver the finishing blow.

The bases-loaded scenario added to the tension.

One mistake, and the situation could shift from no outs to two outs with no runs scored.

Moreover, Tokugawa knew hitting Akagi's tricky pitches, especially to produce a sacrifice fly, was nearly impossible.

A poorly executed ground ball might not even bring in a forced run.

The safest option was a bunt for a forced run, but against Akagi's nine-man infield, that would almost certainly result in two outs—and possibly no runs at all.

This was where the gap in coaching ability showed. Tokugawa's coach, Kunimi, had never faced such a bold and unpredictable opponent.

Unsure of what to do, he ultimately left the decision to the players.

"The game is at a critical juncture. Akagi's ace is winding up for the pitch!"

"Ball one!"

"An inside pitch! But it strayed outside the strike zone, so it's a ball. The pitcher isn't giving the batter much time—he's already preparing for the second pitch!"

Pop!

"Ball two!"

"Another outside pitch! But this time, it's a high ball, nowhere near the low corner. This pitcher's control is terrible! Still, Akagi's defense has carried them this far, and that's why this team is still standing."

The commentator underestimated Sawamura's pitches.

While not blazingly fast by professional standards, his velocity wasn't something easily overwhelmed at the junior level.

Akagi's success so far owed as much to their defense as to Sawamura's pitching.

"The next pitch—an inside ball. Even if it's easy to hit, it has to stay in the strike zone!" Shin gave instructions for the third pitch.

...

Whoosh! After a brief silence, the third pitch shot toward the plate.

"An inside pitch? And an easy one to hit!" Overwhelmed by pressure, the sixth batter swung with all his might.

But pressure, excitement, and nerves can cause mistakes. He swung too hastily.

Crack!

"He hit it! But it's a ground ball—straight to the second baseman!"

"Home plate—OUT! The ball is thrown to third base—OUT! Double play!!!"

"What incredible defense! Akagi Junior High escapes the inning! From a bases-loaded, no-outs situation, they turned it into two outs with runners on first and second in just three pitches! The batter's anxious swing proved costly—he didn't handle the pressure well, as expected."

The commentator, trying to keep up with the frenetic pace of the action, quickly called out the play in short, rapid sentences: "Home plate—out! Third base—out!" It wasn't until the dust settled that they summarized the play more fully.

In reality, the sequence was simple: The batter, too tense, hit a grounder directly to the second baseman.

With the infield positioned forward, the throw to home plate was quick, tagging out the runner from third.

The catcher then threw to third base, tagging out the runner advancing from second.

The batter and the runner from first advanced safely to first and second, respectively.

The entire play took only three seconds.

Even with extra time for a brief summary, the commentator kept their remarks succinct, capturing the essence of the thrilling play in just a few words.

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