CHAPTER 43: CHAPTER 43: NO-HIT GAME

As the batter from Waseda was put out at first base, the bottom of the eighth inning in the finals of the West Tokyo Conference ended—the score was still 3:0, with Waseda in the lead.

However, at this moment, whether it was the commentators, the audience at the venue or in front of their TVs, or the players from both teams, their attention was no longer on the game itself.

In the commentary box, Ikezaki Fusho, doing the live commentary for this game, gently swallowed the saliva in his mouth and asked his partner:

"Hey, Mr. Shibasaki, if my memory and the game statistics are correct, Waseda’s player Lin seems to have not allowed a single hit yet, right?"

His voice carried a tremor, yet also had a hint of excitement, clearly unable to believe what he was about to witness.

Beside Ikezaki Fusho, guest commentator Keichi Shibasaki also wore a somewhat excited but incredulous expression:

"Yes, Mr. Ikezaki—eight innings have gone by, if Mr. Lin can hold onto this next half-inning, then I think we’ll be witnessing that."

The two commentators did not dare to say more, choosing only to exchange a smile, afraid that their chatter might bring bad luck to the pitcher.

For spectators who are not well-versed in baseball, they might wonder, what are these two commentators doing, playing charades?

But most of the audience has realized the significance of this game—Lin Guanglai, the first-year pitcher of Waseda Industries, is just three outs away from achieving a "no-hit game."

A no-hit game, as the name implies, is a game where the opposing batter isn’t allowed to hit a single. For any pitcher in this world, it’s an extraordinary achievement, the result of a combination of timing, geography, and harmony.

In this West Tokyo Conference, it’s not like teams haven’t thrown no-hit games before—but those games were either two pitchers combining to shut out the opponent’s lineup, or lopsided five or seven-inning effective games, none of which can truly be called no-hit games.

Only when one pitcher alone completes nine innings and shuts down the opponent’s lineup can it be called a true, fully significant no-hit game.

99% of excellent pitchers around the world might never throw a no-hit game in their lifetime; spectators who witness a no-hit game in person are equally rare.

The whole Shengong Stadium suddenly fell silent, the passionate atmosphere rapidly cooling—but everyone knew this was just the calm before the storm.

The spectators at the scene all ceased their shouting, focusing their gaze on the figure at the center of the field upon the pitcher’s mound, some even held their breath, for fear that even the slightest sound from them might affect the player’s performance.

Inside the field, the moods of both teams were equally poles apart:

The players from Nihon University Tsurugaoka naturally didn’t want to be a mere backdrop for Lin Guanglai alone, under Hagiyuta coach’s encouragement, each one of them was full of energy, hoping to ruin Lin Guanglai’s good event while reversing the game;

On the Waseda side, the pressure among other players was likely more intense than Lin Guanglai himself.

The reason is simple: if the no-hit game achievement could be smoothly accomplished, being a part of the defense naturally has a shared honor; but if the no-hit chance is lost due to a fielder’s defensive error, even if the teammates verbally wouldn’t blame, the person involved probably couldn’t accept it.

Therefore, all the Waseda players on the defense in the field have their nerves tightly strung, afraid they might make even the slightest mistake.

Lin Guanglai, the man of the hour, was probably the most composed of everyone on the field:

Earlier in the player area, Mr. Izumi asked his opinion, whether he wanted to leave the field for rest, Lin Guanglai refused—once he realized he had a chance at a no-hit game, he never hid his desire;

But some things are far more important than a no-hit game, that is the victory of the match—though the current situation appears to be overwhelmingly in Waseda’s favor, a 3-run advantage isn’t safe, if Nihon University Tsurugaoka finds their rhythm, there might indeed be a reversal.

For Lin Guanglai, personal achievement is certainly important, but it all lies upon the foundation of benefiting the team: he’d rather have a game where he gets hit several times but takes away victory; than to pitch a no-hit game yet leave as a loser.

Taking a deep breath, Lin Guanglai focused his attention on the batter in front of him, standing in the batter’s box, is the number two pitcher from Nihon University Tsurugaoka, Okamondo, who replaced the starter Ogaki Yuichi in the seventh inning.

In the commentary box, Keichi Shibasaki was already standing: "Alright, how will Mr. Lin handle the first pitch in the top of the ninth inning?"

Just as his words finished, Lin Guanglai on the pitcher’s mound was off—still the familiar leg lift for force gathering, still the familiar twisting arm throw, the baseball swept through the air like a shooting star, and then landed with a "snap" right into the catcher’s mitt.

"142km/h inner corner fastball! Pitching all nine innings and still throwing speeds over 140km, this freshman is amazing!" Keichi Shibasaki couldn’t help but admire.

"Indeed, Mr. Lin’s touch today is on fire, almost every pitch can steadily tuck into the inner corner that discomforts batters, splendid!" His partner Ikezaki Fusho responded in agreement.

The next pitch, Lin Guanglai chose to attack the batter’s outer corner, pressing very low, targeting the low position at the outer corner—the batter Okamondo chose to chase this ball, yet just as the bat and ball were about to meet, the red-white striped baseball made a slight displacement, slid out of the strike zone and the bat’s hitting range, and dropped into Tsuchiya Ryota’s mitt.

With the umpire’s call of "strike!" the game’s situation reached 0 balls 2 strikes, putting the batter in an absolute disadvantage.

The team is trailing by 3 runs, facing an absolutely adverse 0 balls 2 strikes situation, leaving Okamondo no choice but to swing the bat with all his might.

For a batter harboring such thoughts, Lin Guanglai chose to use a fastball to tempt a swing—a swift, somewhat ambiguous fastball, left with no choice, Okamondo twisted his body and swung the bat with all his strength.

"Snap." —what greeted him was the sound of the baseball landing into the catcher’s mitt.

"Strike, out." —plus the voice of the umpire from behind home plate declaring.

In the player area and the supporting seats of Nihon University Tsurugaoka, both players and supporters wore expressions of sadness, facing the opposing pitcher’s god-like performance, the 3-run gap felt like an insurmountable chasm between the two teams.

For the supporters of Waseda and other spectators, the focus of their attention at this moment had only one target:

—Just two outs remain, can this no-hit game be accomplished?