บท 8: Back To Mound [1]
**Bottom of the 8th inning.**
The score was 7:5. Lucas, standing on the mound, took a deep breath.
'No random thoughts.'
For a pitcher, distracting thoughts diminish his power.
'Now that I'm on the mound, let's do my best.'
Lucas picked up the fallen rosin bag and massaged it. After that, he did some light practice pitching. Immediately after the practice pitching was over, the catcher came up to the mound.
"What ball do you throw?"
"Fastball."
"Is that it?"
Lucas nodded.
Of course, Lucas knew how to throw a curveball. However, he was not in the best shape to play baseball.
It would be better to just throw a fastball rather than a changeup.
The catcher sighed and left the mound.
Trusting a pitcher who can only throw fastballs was worrying.
Of course, the turnaround came from Lucas's hand. Therefore, the catcher couldn't complain openly this time.
The worries continued in the dugout.
"Coach, will it be okay?"
"Is it okay to let that player pitch when we have a golden opportunity to win?"
The coach, who had kept his mouth shut when Lucas came on as a batter, nodded confidently this time.
The opposing dugout couldn't take their eyes off Lucas either.
"The batter who hit a home run even goes up to the mound?"
"Isn't that a bit much?"
"Hey, even though we sent out the second team, isn't that too much of an overreaction?"
Of course, Lucas couldn't hear what they said.
Now, having to throw the ball, he blocked out the surrounding sounds. He focused solely on his task.
Lucas wound up while everyone's eyes were on him.
'Fastball inside.'
The ball Lucas threw flew quickly and sharply to where the catcher wanted it.
WOOOSH—!
THUMP—!
"Strike!"
There was silence for a moment as the ball flew into the catcher's mitt much faster than expected. The silence lasted for three seconds.
Then, an exclamation came from the Santa Monica dugout.
"Oh? That's pretty fast?"
"Yeah. I think it was around 85 to 86 miles."
"Hey, was he a pitcher?"
It was a pretty decent speed for a high school student.
Although it couldn't be said to be completely excellent, the speed at which Lucas threw the ball was slightly above average.
So the response from the FS dugout was also good. At least Lucas threw the ball faster than any other pitcher in today's game.
"Wow, he throws well."
"That's right. I guess it wasn't for nothing that we sent him out as the closer."
Lucas frowned as various reactions pierced his eardrums.
'As expected, he's not a professional catcher.'
After watching the game so far, Lucas felt that the player wearing the catcher's mask was not a professional catcher.
Neither the blocking nor the leading were satisfactory.
Above all, catching, which is a catcher's basic virtue, was not perfect. He couldn't even catch the first pitch that was just thrown.
'What should I do if I throw with all my strength and he can't catch it?'
If the catcher couldn't catch the ball thrown by the pitcher, the game would descend into chaos, and the pitcher's power would be reduced.
Lucas called out a time out and called the catcher back to the mound. The catcher quickly took off his mask and approached Lucas with an apologetic expression.
"Sorry. I didn't catch it right."
Since the apology was sincere from the start, Lucas didn't bother to complain.
"You're not really a catcher, are you?"
After the catcher nodded, Lucas continued speaking leisurely.
"Then can you catch a ball thrown into the middle?"
"I can catch that. It's still a bit difficult to catch the ball toward the corner."
"Then I'll throw it into the middle, so please be prepared."
The catcher scratched the back of his head.
To be honest, it wasn't a ball he couldn't catch.
This time, he was confident that he would catch the same ball properly.
He was just briefly surprised because the ball flew at him much faster than he expected.
Of course, this situation occurred because he did not catch the ball properly.
'Is this one mistake really enough to make him throw right down the middle?'
But since he had already accepted it, the catcher quietly put on his mask and fixed his mitt in the center. Lucas watched the scene silently.
'Hmm. It's definitely stable in the middle. He knows how to hold the mitt properly.'
Now, I can demonstrate my true power. The corners of Lucas's mouth slightly rose.
However, his expression soon hardened, and he immediately wound up.
The moment his stepping foot touched the floor, the ball left his hand and flew through the wind into the middle of the home plate.
WOOOSH—!
THUMP—!
"S-strike."
Except for the umpire's surprised voice, there was silence, not unlike the first pitch.
The only difference was that this time the silence, as if time had stopped completely, lasted for quite some time.
After about ten seconds, a huge cheer was heard from one side.
"Wow! That's crazy!"
"Isn't it about 90 miles now?"
Only exclamations could be heard from the other side.
"W-what is it?"
"Just a little while ago, it was only about 85 mph. Suddenly he started throwing 90 mph?"
A difference of five miles is a difference of over eight kilometers.
But it wasn't just a matter of speed.
The sound of the wind produced by the changed position of the pitch was making the batter's bones at the plate feel bitter.
And the result.
"Strike out!"
"Strike out!"
"Strike out!"
Strikeout three batters in a row. Every time Lucas threw the ball, the speed and pitch were increasing.
"You're crazy! It's crazy!"
"Wow, you really throw well."
"Isn't that a monster?"
Lucas, who returned to the dugout, received a lot of attention from his teammates. But as expected, Lucas's expression did not change at all. Although he kept saying thank you out loud, a smile was absent from his frozen expression. The coach called Lucas separately.
"It looks like you're still not happy."
"Because our opponent is the 2nd team."
The coach nodded, suppressing a laugh.
Lucas's words were not wrong, but 90 mph was not a speed that even a first-team player could easily hit. The coach tapped Lucas on the shoulder.
"I think the final 9th inning will depict the picture you want."
When Lucas tilted his head, the coach gestured toward the dugout on the other side.
"Do you see it over there?"
As he followed his gaze, Lucas saw the other team hurriedly changing their clothes.
"It looks like the Santa Monica first team is planning to come out in the 9th inning. It looks like their pride has been hurt a lot by your pitching."
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