"A major player? As a pitcher?" Nathan's eyes widened as the announcer introduced the opposing team. The dugout fell silent. Even the air felt heavier when they realized they'd be facing someone from the majors.
"It's a private team," their coach said calmly. "They can field whoever they want."
"Anong laban natin sa ganyan? We're just the national team, not—" one teammate started, but Dranred's voice cut through.
"So what? Are we going to quit?" he said, standing up. "He came all the way here to play. It'd be rude not to give him a proper game."
A few players exchanged uneasy laughs. "I can't tell if you're brave or just insane," one of them joked.
"For once," Nathan said with a grin, "I think I agree with him."
Their catcher adjusted his glove. "Well, looks like our pitcher's ready. If those two are in war mode, what's there to worry about?"
The coach stepped into the dugout, a rare smile on his face. "Good. You'll need that energy — because it's not just one major player you'll be facing."
Everyone turned to him, startled.
"There's more?"
"Not tonight," the coach said, handing out the game schedule. "Next week, you'll face an entire major league team."
"What?" Nathan blurted. "We're still in preliminaries! That's never happened before!"
"The majors want to scout fresh talent," the coach explained. "They'll be watching every team in the tournament. And after this, they'll select the best players from six local teams to form one national team for the World Cup."
"So we're fighting for a spot in the real national team?" another player muttered.
"Exactly. Think of this as your audition," the coach said. "If you want a shot at the majors, this is it."
"This will be tough," one player muttered.
"We already have one win," the coach reminded them. "If we pull this off tonight, we'll have the advantage. And if we can give the major team a strong fight in the exhibition match, the baseball federation will notice us. They'll be picking players for the new national roster soon."
"That's easier said than done," someone grumbled.
"Don't sell yourselves short," the coach said, scanning their faces. "You've all got what it takes."
Dranred cracked a faint smile. "Then let's show them what we've got."
The coach nodded approvingly. "That's the spirit."
"Man, where do you get that kind of confidence?" one teammate said. "Major players are on a whole different level."
Dranred just shrugged. "Which makes it more satisfying when we beat them. Don't you think?"
"I couldn't agree more," Nathan said, smirking.
Their teammates groaned in unison. "Why do you two only agree on reckless things?"
Dranred and Nathan exchanged a quick grin, both unfazed. The others could only sigh.
For a moment, silence settled over the dugout. The hum of the crowd outside seemed distant — like the calm before a storm.
Most of them had played for years without ever stepping onto an international field.
Now, that dream felt close enough to touch.
They weren't just playing for pride anymore.
They were playing for a chance to belong to something bigger.
The sound of the crowd seeps through the dugout walls — a dull roar, pulsing with energy. I can feel it in my chest, steady and heavy. It's strange how quiet it gets inside my head before a game. Maybe it's the calm before everything burns.
They said we don't stand a chance against a major player. Maybe they're right — maybe skill alone won't bridge that gap. But I didn't come here to measure how small I am. I came to see how far I can throw.
Charlie… I can almost hear your voice telling me to aim higher, to take the risk. If you were watching now, I'd want you to see that I listened.
Tonight isn't about proving who's better. It's about proving I belong here. Every pitch, every swing, every breath — I'll make them remember my name.
The first inning began with Dranred's team on offense, facing a pitcher from the Major League. In the first three batters, only Nathan managed to reach base. With two outs and Nathan in scoring position, Dranred stepped into the batter's box.
Two balls. Two strikes.
The crowd had fallen into tense silence, every eye fixed on the battle between the unknown local player and the visiting major leaguer. Pitch after pitch, Dranred kept fouling the ball, refusing to go down easily.
"Just how many fouls is he going to make?" one spectator asked, eyes wide in disbelief.
Charlie, seated among the scouts, could only smile. Pride welled quietly in his chest as he watched his nephew match a professional pitch for pitch. He's not even supposed to be this good yet, Charlie thought. If only he'd never left the sport—he could've been known worldwide by now.
A sharp crack echoed through the field. The ball soared high—almost a home run—but just short.
"Foul!" the umpire declared.
"Who's that batter? He's pretty good for an unknown player," one of the scouts muttered nearby. Charlie caught the words, his smile deepening. The name Dranred Masterson would soon spread beyond this stadium, he was sure of it.
Then came the next pitch. Dranred swung cleanly, connecting solidly—but the third baseman caught it in a flash.
"Out!" the umpire called.
Instead of disappointment, the crowd broke into applause. Even the opposing team's dugout looked impressed. It was only the first inning, but the pitcher's count had already climbed high—all thanks to Dranred's relentless fouls.
When their team took the field, Dranred stunned the audience again. Three batters faced him. Three batters down—no hits, just three strikes each.
The visiting pitcher, now sitting on the bench, glanced toward his manager. "Who is that guy?" he asked, disbelief written on his face.
"Dranred Masterson," the manager replied. "Former basketball superstar. Picked up baseball not too long ago… and somehow, he's already this good."
"He just started? That's not what I'm seeing," the Major League pitcher muttered, watching Dranred from across the field. "He looks like a man built for baseball. It's a shame he's stuck on a team no one's heard of."
He stood and walked toward the mound, still unable to shake his curiosity. He'd faced countless skilled players throughout his career, but never had an amateur forced him into such a long first inning. His pitch count had never risen this high so early — not until now. Something about that kid's composure and precision pulled at his competitive instincts.
"That brat," Charlie said with a faint grin as he glanced up at the scoreboard. The game had reached the sixth inning, and the opposing team still hadn't scored a single run — not one. Despite facing a Major League pitcher, Dranred's team was holding their ground.
"He really did live up to his word," Charlie murmured. "He said he wouldn't let them land a single hit… and he's proving it."
Dranred was still on the mound, calm and focused, his pitch count surprisingly low for this deep into the game. Batter after batter fell before him — clean strikes, sharp precision. To the crowd, he was no longer just a rookie or a former basketball star. He was a phenomenon in the making.