Baseball: A Two-Way Player

Supported by his teammates, Lin Guanglai returned to the bench and quickly gulped several mouthfuls of cold water, finally relaxing a bit.

As the adrenaline gradually faded, a wave of fatigue washed over him, and his arms and elbows felt increasingly heavy, with the pain becoming more and more pronounced.

But Lin Guanglai didn't have the time to worry about these things right now. His focus remained on the field—it's unlikely he'll get a chance to bat in the top of the ninth inning, which is not bad news for him at the moment; he just hoped his teammates could hang in there a little longer so he could rest a bit more.

It was at this moment that Izumi Minoru walked up to Lin Guanglai with a serious expression, placing his rough hand on Lin's shoulder and spoke in an unquestionable tone:

"Guanglai, you've worked hard in today's game! Now, take a good rest."

At first, Lin Guanglai, with his attention focused entirely on the game, did not react and simply nodded mechanically. But once he realized what the coach had said and understood the underlying meaning of those words, he showed a puzzled expression.

"Why, coach? Why are you subbing me out at this moment? No, the fall was just an accident, it was only because it rained yesterday, and the field was too slippery... I'm really fine, coach, look, I can still jump around..."

He tried to use his body language to convince Izumi Minoru that he was indeed okay, but it did nothing to alter Izumi's decision. The coach's unyielding expression showed he wasn't faking.

"Guanglai, I'm not seeking your opinion—this is an order from me as the coach; you must leave the field."

"As the coach, I will take full responsibility for all the decisions I make, regardless of the final result of this game."

"You've given your all this spring tournament—promise me, take a rest now, okay?"

Lin Guanglai didn't respond.

If he could choose, of course he would want to keep pitching, but Izumi Minoru's firm stance made him realize it was likely an impossibility.

Sitting alone on the bench, Lin Guanglai felt as if something had been pulled out of his body, and suddenly he didn't even want to move.

On the field, Waseda Jitsugyo's offense was still ongoing.

For Osaka Tsubaki, though their offense had repeatedly hit setbacks, the 1-point difference wasn't enough to make them surrender; at least in the pitching department, Fujinami Jintaro's pitch count had just barely surpassed 100, and he was far from exhausting his stamina and leaving the field; besides, in their bench, they had the number two pitcher, Sawada Keisuke, who was almost like an ace.

Just when the spectators were eagerly anticipating what kind of brilliant performance Lin Guanglai would deliver in the bottom of the ninth, everyone was stunned to find that it was not the "Heisei monster" who almost single-handedly locked down Osaka Tsubaki walking up to the mound, but the second-year pitcher Tanaka Justice, who was only fielded in previous games after the team had a large lead to fill innings.

This substitution caused a commotion.

Not just the live audience but also reporters, relevant individuals, and netizens discussed the reason for this substitution—they didn't know what happened on the bench, so they could only assume that the final pitch in the bottom of the eighth caused Lin Guanglai's injury, which forced Izumi Minoru to take him out.

Many Waseda Jitsugyo supporters sighed, lamenting their bad luck: in this tournament, without being in the absolute top tier in terms of team strength, they managed to reach the semifinals thanks to the outstanding performances of the players and decent draw luck; just when they had a chance to defeat the mighty Osaka Tsubaki, who would have thought their season-long good luck would falter here.

Without Lin Guanglai as the main force, even with Tanaka Justice's capability, facing the fierce batting lineup of Osaka Tsubaki was no easy task; the outcome of this game suddenly became uncertain.

The broadcast quickly switched the camera to the first-base-side bench of Waseda Jitsugyo, where Izumi Minoru was sitting beside Lin Guanglai, mouth opening and closing as he spoke to him.

"Guanglai, I know being taken out like this, anyone would feel unwilling; but Guanglai, even if I were to choose a million times, I would still decisively sub you out—because I don't want to see a genius who could be immortalized in the history of baseball lose his brilliance because of a high school game."

"Yes, I admit this game is important, and if I let you pitch this inning, maybe we could make it to the finals."

"But Guanglai, even if we make it to the finals, are you going to keep pitching tomorrow? Without you, do you think we stand a chance against Mitsuhoshi or Kantou Number One?"

"And have you thought about yourself? Was the fall in the bottom of the eighth really just an accident? Your body is already sending you warning signals, you know! If you continue to pitch in this way, injury is only a matter of time—at the end of this year you're entering the draft, what if you suffer a serious injury, what would you do? Don't be misled by those team representatives who are all smiles to you now. Let me tell you, if you suffer an injury that affects your professional career before the draft, they might be the first ones to abandon you!"