Diamond No Ace: The Strongest Hitter

Chapter 9: <9> Practice Game (3)



Chapter 9: Practice Game (3)

"The catcher's pretty sharp!" the third batter on second base muttered to himself, hearing Harada's call.

"Although his guess is accurate, our cleanup hitter isn't someone to be taken lightly. The old man would rather break up our overall coordination just to make him the cleanup hitter. That guy's a real monster," he thought to himself.

"This catcher is cautious—he'll likely test new batters with outside pitches."

With that thought lingering in his mind, Sendo, recalling what his senior teammates had said upon returning to the bench, slowly stepped into the left batter's box.

Whoosh!

Pop!

"Strike!"

"Not moving at all? That makes it tougher to decide on the next pitch. Let's keep going, but with a slight adjustment!" The opposing team was clearly paying close attention to Sendo's reaction to the pitch.

Even without the coach's reminder, Harada knew that any player this team would promote to cleanup, even at the cost of their team's harmony, would be no pushover.

The Wildcats were known nationwide for their teamwork, so his batting…?

Just thinking about it gave Harada a chill, still shaken by the Wildcats' earlier coordination.

"No, I can't back down now!" Harada slapped his glove with both hands, signaling that he was ready.

Whoosh!

Thud!

"What? That was a bad pitch!" But the next scene made his face turn pale.

"Fair!" The umpire's call rang out as the ball landed.

"Yes! A deep hit to left field!" The Wildcats' bench erupted.

"Run, run, make it to third base! They won't make it in time!"

In elementary school, it was rare to see an outfielder with a strong enough arm for a direct throw.

Plus, Sendo was lightning fast on the bases, and with the element of surprise and perfect placement, the ball bounced in fair territory then out of bounds.

Unlike the infield, as long as the ball first lands inbounds, it won't be ruled out of play in the outfield.

Even if there was an outfielder with a strong enough arm, they could only watch as he advanced to third base. However, there was no way the ball would make it home, and an inside-the-park home run was inevitable.

"An outside pitch, clearly a ball, driven deep into left field for a triple? What a joke! And his swing—the initial movement was awful." Harada was bewildered. He hadn't expected the batter to go after such an obvious ball and still manage to pull it to right field despite batting left-handed.

"No outs, runner on third now. The next batter is the fifth hitter... Wait, wasn't this guy their cleanup last year?" Harada was now even more confused, never expecting the batter to go after a bad pitch and pull it to the opposite field.

"Sendo, that idiot, still can't tell the difference between a ball and a strike," someone from the Wildcats' bench accidentally blurted out, revealing Sendo's weakness.

"You idiot! Don't just give away our secrets like that!" Sendo muttered under his breath in frustration.

Their ace pitcher wasn't particularly fast, and pitchers who rely solely on fastballs in elementary school are often easy targets for power hitters.

However, swinging at such an obvious ball was something rarely seen. Even Harada, who had been composed, was now starting to feel rattled.

In elementary baseball, most games turned into batting contests with a focus on overall defense, but the Wildcats' cohesive strategy was overwhelming.

Even against powerhouse teams, individual skills among elementary school players aren't vastly different—aside from a few standouts. That's when the gap in team coordination really starts to show.

"Time out!" Coach Yasuda stepped onto the field and called for a timeout, gathering all the players around the pitcher's mound.

"What's going on? Are you guys done already?" Coach Yasuda asked with a smile.

"The Wildcats are strong, aren't they?"

"Yeah, even though their individual skills are similar to ours, it's just…" Harada trailed off.

"Exactly. The Wildcats are strong, and most youth baseball teams wouldn't stand a chance against them. But it's not their individual talent that makes them strong."

"I can't impart the kind of deep experience and knowledge Coach Nakani has. But through this practice match, I want you to learn something—understand the direction of your efforts."

"You're right, Harada. Besides their cleanup hitter, whose technique is still rough and hard to judge from one at-bat, I can confidently say you're the best player out there. So after this game, reflect on this match." Coach Yasuda cleared his throat and continued.

"Listen carefully. I didn't arrange this practice match caring about wins or losses, not even about how many runs we give up. I have only one request: don't give up the will to fight, no matter what. Understood?"

"Yes!" The players' unified shout echoed in everyone's ears, and with that, Coach Yasuda returned to the bench.

"This wouldn't be any fun otherwise," the Wildcats' third batter remarked as he returned to the dugout.

"Of course! The Mariners are still an elite team, and Coach Yasuda is no slouch," the second batter chimed in.

As the pitcher and catcher confirmed their signals, the former cleanup hitter now in the fifth spot made a hand gesture toward Sendo.

"That gesture… Interesting! No mercy, huh?" Sendo smiled slightly as he recalled the signal.

With the signs confirmed, the game resumed.

Whoosh!

"Steal!"

"A forced run?!" Upon hearing the signal from third base, Sendo was already in motion before the ball was pitched, and just as the pitch was being released, the fifth batter squared for a bunt, executing the forced run play. There was no time left to change the pitch trajectory.

"First!"

Harada quickly gave instructions, but no one expected such a sudden forced run. The infield defense, overwhelmed by the continuous pressure and relentless attacks, hesitated, and in the end, the runner safely reached first base.

"Damn it!" Harada yelled in frustration, not at his teammates but at the situation, as they stood there with guilty expressions.

"That was the fifth batter, a former cleanup hitter! Why would someone like him bunt to force a run, especially with no outs and a runner on third? And on top of that, he's a power hitter." Harada couldn't wrap his head around it. Coach Yasuda had just managed to calm the team down, but Harada's mindset was once again thrown into chaos.

"Prioritizing defeating the opponent over personal pride as a power hitter? What kind of team is this? Each player is thinking strategically, working together to purely pursue victory. These kids have been trained incredibly well!" Coach Yasuda couldn't help but express genuine admiration.

As for the notion of not bunting in a practice game? It depends on the team.

For the Wildcats, to play without any tactical coordination would be equivalent to going easy on the opponent, and that would signal giving up.

During the game, they had already made multiple substitutions, but this match was more of a comprehensive practice with the full lineup—there was no way they would hold back.

In a game where the full lineup is on the field, showcasing their status as champions means employing every tactic to defeat the opponent, no matter the form.

Winning is the pride of a champion, and utilizing all strategies to their fullest is the mark of the Wildcats' starting players.

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