Mercenary’s War
Chapter 905 - 905 895 Scared to Death

905: Chapter 895 Scared to Death 905: Chapter 895 Scared to Death A baseball game quickly got underway after a coin toss determined the teams for offense and defense, with the PMC going on the offense first and a group from the Marines on defense.

Gao Yang only knew some of the most basic rules.

For instance, the offending team, the ones holding the bats and hitting the ball, if three batters are out, they switch roles with the defense until after nine innings when the winner is decided by the score.

Taking offense first meant that Frey, as the pitcher, didn’t really have anything to do, so he and Gao Yang watched the first inning with nerves on edge.

Due to Frey’s participation and being on the side of PMC, Gao Yang and his team were quite concerned with a game whose rules they were not very familiar with.

Though few others were interested in baseball, since it was now a match between regular forces and the PMC, in a place crowded with PMC members, there was no lack of supporters.

Even spectators from the football and basketball fields nearby ran over, as well as some who played basketball and ran to the edge of the Baseball Field with their basketballs in hand, cheering for their own, unrecognized baseball team of the same kind.

Unfortunately, the PMC’s batters were not impressive at all with two straight batters struck out without even managing to hit the ball once.

At last, the final batter managed a hit out of sheer luck, but sadly, his ball was caught by a fielder on the Marines side.

Though he finally managed to hit the ball with a swing, he was still out.

Although it was just a bunch of amateurs playing around, having their front line, which was supposed to be the most reliable three batters, all out without a single point was quite embarrassing.

You have to know that the idea for the offense was to rotate nine players to bat and run bases to score, before accumulating three outs.

Only when three outs were accumulated would they switch offense and defense, so in theory, the offense could potentially score a lot in one go, as long as there weren’t three people out.

This is what is called a defense collapse, but as it stood, the PMC already collapsed during their offense.

After switching offense and defense, it was the defense’s turn to pitch, and after discussing briefly with several people, Frey walked up to the pitcher’s mound looking somewhat nervous.

The first batter from the Marines side was their captain, the one who had issued the challenge.

This was Frey’s first time appearing in a somewhat official game.

Actually, he hardly even played casually with a small group of people.

The Marines batter seemed very lively, jumping around, tapping the bat on the ground a few times, swinging it over his shoulder, and then repeating the action before he stretched out his bat towards Frey, shouting loudly, “Hey, see this?

This is the prize I won in the military competition.

Check out what it says.

It reads, ‘To the best batter, Lightning Dale!’ Haha, rookie, come on, I’m first up, let me teach you what a home run is!”

After speaking, the batter turned around and shouted towards the growing crowd of spectators, “Remember, my name is Lightning Dale!”

Frey seemed a bit nervous; he tossed the ball back and forth between his hands, waiting.

When Dale finally settled his bat on his shoulder, and the umpire signaled that the pitch could be thrown, Frey took a deep breath, curled his legs and threw his first pitch.

Dale didn’t swing, and the umpire shouted from the side, “Ball!”

Dale laughed obnoxiously.

Of course, his behavior was also an attempt to exert psychological pressure on Frey.

Frey shook his head, and then the catcher shouted from behind, “Buddy, don’t be nervous; you got this!”

Frey picked up another ball and, after habitually patting it a couple of times, threw his second pitch.

Dale didn’t swing again, and the umpire shouted once more, “Ball!”

Frey’s pitches were possibly a bit too wayward, even the catcher on his team visibly shook his head, while Dale mocked, “Hey buddy, planning on giving me a walk with four balls, to spare me the chance for a home run?”

Gao Yang was getting anxious; he shouted, “Come on, pitch it right!

Why the nerves?”

Frey turned his head and glanced at Gao Yang, then made a hand gesture with his left hand.

Seeing Frey’s gesture, Gao Yang was momentarily puzzled, then burst into laughter, “F**k, this guy’s using tactics.

I knew he couldn’t be this bad!”

Jansen anxiously asked, “What’s going on, what’s happening?”

Gao laughed and replied, “Seems like it’s one of those baseball tactics, mixing balls and strikes to confuse the opponent.”

After speaking, Gao Yang shouted again, “Cut the crap, and get to the point!”

Others might not have understood, but Frey did; he turned around, stretched out his left hand, and made a V-sign to Gao Yang.

Frey threw his third pitch, and once again, Dale didn’t swing, but this time the umpire bellowed, “Strike!”

Dale looked slightly vexed, tapping the bat on the ground before raising it again, assuming a focused stance.

Frey pitched quickly, releasing the ball once more.

Dale swung his bat, but the bat passed just above the baseball, firmly caught by the Catcher in his grasp.

Every time a bat swung, regardless of whether Frey threw a strike or a ball, it counted as a strike, but this pitch from Frey was an actual strike; it was just Dale who couldn’t hit it.

“Wow!”

A low gasp came from the stands, followed by someone shouting, “Curveball, he threw a curveball!”

Most of the audience at the sidelines were Americans, so whether they liked it or not, many still understood the rules and could discern the intricacies, especially when Frey threw a pitch that only began to drop suddenly in front of Dale, drawing a clear curve, which immediately made someone call out.

People from the PMC team also began to shout and cheer.

Their captain yelled, “Beautiful, strikeout!

Strikeout!

Strike him out!”

Frey nodded, then pitched again, still using the most common sidearm technique.

Dale swung once more, but again he missed.

Dale looked confused, but behind him, the Catcher’s face showed shock.

If there had been a high-speed camera, they might have known why Dale’s bat was in the correct trajectory of the baseball yet couldn’t hit it—because the baseball was too fast, and had already entered the Catcher’s Glove before the bat could reach.

The umpire was slow to react; he too was stunned for a moment as he glanced at Frey before shouting, as if waking from a dream, “Strike, strikeout!”

Dale was somewhat bewildered, but Frey simply waved his hand, and it was then that an audience member suddenly yelled, “I bet that last pitch was definitely over a hundred miles an hour!”

“F**k, he just threw a curveball, and now a fastball!

Is this guy a professional player?”

It was astonishing; that’s how it was.

Frey didn’t think he had thrown anything special, and neither did Gao Yang and the others.

Having seen Frey throw Grenades, they always felt that was his real job; baseball was just something to play with.

It was different for others.

Frey threw two difficult pitches in a row, each with a completely different style, immediately causing a sensation.

Onlookers are clear-minded; participants are confused.

Frey had attended games and often watched on television, but that was observing others pitch.

He had no idea how impressive his own pitching was.

There were many ways to pitch in baseball, and different pitchers had different speeds, fast and slow.

But for Frey, none of this was a problem.

He could throw various tricky pitches as well as exceedingly fast ones.

A child who could keep playing a lonely hobby till it grew big, also gifted, could indeed create miracles.

Moreover, having thrown stones as baseballs from a young age and now as a Grenade pitcher, Frey practiced with Grenades whenever he had time.

His arm strength was fully developed.

Returning a strikeout, Frey was very excited in his first serious play, and his teammates were even more enthusiastic.

The captain yelled at Frey, “Man, you scared me to death!

You really f**king scared me to death.

Are you a professional player?

Haha, so cool, another strikeout—keep striking them out!”

The pressure Frey exerted was immense, and the next batter’s face was off as he stepped up; he was too nervous.

Frey’s first pitch whizzed out, and the batter didn’t even move his bat, though the pitch wasn’t actually that fast.

Gao didn’t discern anything special, but someone in the crowd shouted at that moment, “F**k!

F**k!

Slider!

That’s a slider!

He’s thrown a third type of pitch!

He must be a professional!”

Frey also heard the shout.

After a brief pause, he turned to the umpire, “Hello, could you tell me what a slider is?”

The umpire was visibly helpless and a bit frustrated because he was from the Marines and, although he was quite a competent umpire, he could not stand Frey’s taunting.

Thinking that Frey was indeed taunting them, the umpire shouted, “It’s a game!

If you don’t know, go home and ask!”

The Catcher, elated, said, “Dude, you’re amazing!

Keep it up, keep it up!

Strike him out!”

Frey shrugged his shoulders and then threw the second pitch.

Frey had never felt as exhilarated in his life as he did today, watching the batter’s bewildered, nervously swung strike, hearing the growing gasps from the crowd, seeing his teammates jumping three feet in the air with excitement, Frey genuinely felt joyful.

Frey experienced a childlike excitement that he hadn’t even felt when he earned his first substantial amount of money.

The umpire shook his head and gestured helplessly that Frey could continue, and then, Frey threw the third pitch, using a drop ball technique he wasn’t very familiar with.

Whether the batter swung or not, the umpire hesitated before finally, with a tone of resignation, declared, “Strike, strikeout!”

That was two down; striking out another batter would turn the tide and severely undercut the opposing team’s confidence.

And Frey, who had already succeeded twice, was quite confident about striking out a third.

(To be continued.

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