The Proxy War (2)
Peter, the left-handed ace of the Sett plantation, honestly couldn't understand the current situation.
He had heard about it from Ben and Leo, but he hadn't expected it to be to this extent.
The first and second fastballs hadn't been thrown with full power. They were merely meant to test the Northern team's level, a sort of check-swing, but he hadn't expected them to fail to even react properly and swing at air.
Leo, Ben, and Sam were right. These guys were total rookies who hadn't even been introduced to proper baseball yet.
The final curveball was thrown just to confirm that, and as expected, it caused an uproar not just in the batter's box, but in the stands as well.
“W-wait... did the ball just curve? Is, is that possible? Isn't this cheating?”
Mickey, who had been standing blankly without even realizing he was out, finally came to his senses and raised an objection. In response, a wildfire of boos erupted from both the player bench and the stands.
“C-cheating! It’s cheating!”
“Boooo! You cowardly Dixies! You cunning niggers! Play the game fair and square!”
Honestly, the ones who are bad at something are always the ones to make excuses when they get crushed.
Peter remained on the mound without much reaction, believing that his master, their leader, would resolve this issue anyway. And as expected, James rose from the manager's bench and strolled leisurely onto the field.
“Cheating? What exactly is cheating?”
“T-the ball just curved, didn't it!”
“Yes, it curved because I threw it to curve.”
“...You mean you intended for the ball to curve?”
“Why else would it have curved?”
The Northern team, who had raised the question, began to feel flustered by James's nonchalant response. But once suspicion is ignited, it doesn't disappear easily.
“It’s a fraud! It’s the dirty lies of those Dixie bastards!”
“They definitely tampered with the ball!”
Most people have a habit of denying things when something happens that contradicts the common sense they’ve known. In particular, the 'Guardians of Liberty,' who claimed to represent the North, were tightly knit with the pride that they were the originators of baseball.
But then a Southern Dixie-trained nigger comes along, throws a fastball they couldn't even imagine, and then makes the ball curve—of course they couldn't accept it.
“If you don't believe me, shall I throw with the ball you brought? Go ahead, hand it over.”
If they keep insisting even after he so readily accepts their opinion, they’re the only ones who will look strange. Eventually, the Northern team agreed to switch the ball and continue the game, and Peter took the baseball brought by the opposing team.
And naturally.
Whoosh!
Thwack!
“Gasp! The ball really curves?”
“Out!”
Whoosh!
Thwack!
“Three strikes! Out!”
“W-what... why is it so fast?”
Three balls per batter. Peter, who had struck out three opposing batters with a total of nine pitches, shook his head expressionlessly.
They said it felt like a trick, so he even changed the ball—what other excuses could they possibly make?
Even when they claimed there must be some other trick, James showed them once again that Peter had nothing hidden in his hands, and a cold, stiff atmosphere began to permeate the Northern cheering section and the VIP seats.
You guys realize you’re doomed, right?
Of course, the Sett All-Stars, including Peter, were just having fun. It was ironic that those who advocated for the abolition of slavery were desperate to crush them, and that the Dixies they disliked so much were cheering for them, but what did that matter?
What mattered to them now was the sight of the white men’s eyes widening and them falling backward at the balls they threw.
And the cruel, tear-jerking barrage of bats that would unfold from here on out.
When else would they get to experience something like this? For now, they were just going to enjoy it.
“This situation is taking a strange turn.”
Lincoln, who had been watching the game from the VIP seats without much comment, lifted his beer glass with interest as the sides were switched after only nine pitches.
“H-haha, it must be a coincidence.”
“It’s hard to call it a coincidence when they can’t even lay a hand on the incoming ball, isn't it?”
“They must have... researched a lot on the pitching side. Still, in baseball, it’s important not to give up runs. If we defend well, they won't have any particular way to score.”
The ones who truly have no way are us, who can't even touch the opponent's ball and only swing at air. Lincoln turned his gaze away from Opdyke toward James Sett, who was looking at the field with ease.
‘I didn't think that young man would have accepted this match without any thought, but...’
Did he really train the blacks under his command to this extent in just two months? Or is that pitcher, Peter, just uniquely special?
The question that naturally arose was thankfully resolved as he watched the ensuing attack of the Sett All-Stars.
CRACK!
“He hit it! The ball is stretching out... it’s flown so far it can’t even be caught!”
“What is this. It’s not even as good as batting practice.”
Ben, the Sett team’s leadoff hitter, shook his head and leisurely ran around the bases to return home.
An inside-the-park home run added by the Sett Rules. Watching the scoreboard change to 1:0 at the same time as the attack, Lincoln clicked his tongue.
‘It’s over. This was a match that wasn't even a contest from the start.’
Anyone who isn't a fool can tell just by watching the first inning. The difference in skill between the two teams wasn't just large; it wasn't a level that could be covered by clumsy tactics.
Sure enough.
CRACK!
“Yee-haw!”
CRACK!
“Hiyah!”
The Sett team batters who stepped up to the plate, one and all, sent the balls flying far away like madmen before throwing their bats to the ground.
Charles, the pitcher who had boasted that he wouldn't allow even a single run, could only watch in despair as the balls he threw flew high into the sky.
3:0. 5:0, 8:0. The bombardment that continued endlessly only barely ended once the batting order had gone around and it reached 11:0.
And that wasn't because the pitcher was throwing well, but because the opposing team had swung for the fences to try for extra-base hits, leading to a few mistakes that resulted in outs.
“Kwahahahaha!”
“Take it easy, our players! At this rate, those Northern bastards are going to cry! Kyahahahat!”
“What kind of ‘home of baseball’ is this? From today, the home of baseball is Mississippi!”
Unlike the coldly sunken Northern cheering section, the Southern cheering section was heating up like a festival, and this extreme contrast became more pronounced as time went on.
Top of the 2nd inning, Northern team's attack.
“Out!”
1 out. The 4th batter couldn't even touch the ball once and struck out on three fastballs.
2 outs. The 5th batter also struck out in a pattern that looked like it had been copied and pasted.
“Three outs! Change!”
The 6th batter also retreated after three stylish swings at air, and the Northern team's attack time ended as quickly and pointlessly as that.
With the situation like this, the gazes directed at Opdyke from the Northern VIP seats naturally weren't very pleasant.
“Is there any reason for us to keep sitting here?”
As Seward, a New York senator, opened fire first, others clicked their tongues one by one and nodded.
“11 runs were scored in just the 1st inning, so if we watch until the 9th, are they going to give up nearly 100 runs? I didn't clear my schedule to watch something like this.”
“I can clearly see what kind of articles will be pouring out in New York City next week. Mr. Opdyke, you’ve done a great job, haven't you?”
“N-no... everyone, it’s not that... this shouldn't be happening... how on earth...”
It’s only natural that he couldn't keep his wits about him, as he had expanded the scale as much as possible under the absolute belief that he would win, but the result had turned out completely the opposite.
Lincoln let out a sigh of sympathy and poured another glass of beer to bring to his lips. If it had been a match between teams of equal skill, it would have been a truly interesting game, so he honestly felt a bit of regret.
“Mr. Opdyke, honestly, I don't think it makes sense to drag this game to the 9th inning, so how about we just acknowledge the defeat around the 3rd or 5th inning and end it?”
“Acknowledge the defeat...”
Actually, he had said the 5th inning out of a feeling that they should at least do half, but looking at the state of the game now, even that was a cruel thing to do to those players.
After the 2nd inning ended, the score difference was a whopping 23:0. More than half of the Northern Republican figures had left in anger, and the Southern side had begun to sing, saying their world had finally arrived.
“If you keep fighting for pride here, only Mr. Opdyke will lose out. Fortunately, didn't Sett leave an escape route open in advance? This game is a commemorative event game for James Sett’s hospital. Why don't you declare it as such and finish it?”
“B-but...”
“Then are you going to keep doing this as it is?”
In the short moment he was talking to Lincoln, the Northern team was struck out at light speed, and the Sett team’s attack began again.
“A-all right. I... I will speak to James Sett.”
Opdyke, who had been as excited as if he owned the world just this morning, rose from his seat, staggering like a man whose soul had been sucked out. It was the point where the number on the scoreboard was heading toward 30:0.
I had expected it, but now that it’s reality, the feeling is quite strange. Originally, sports should be somewhat balanced; if the skill gap is too large, the opponent is so pitiful that you can't even watch it with your eyes open.
The current match was exactly that.
In the middle of the 3rd inning attack, the score was 34:0. In fact, this was only the case because our team’s players had been sensible enough to repeat full swings in the 1st and 2nd innings and then get out appropriately; if they had been truly serious, the 1st inning attack wouldn't have even ended by now.
Whether he knew of this tearful consideration or not, Opdyke was walking toward me with a face that looked like he was about to cry, signaling that he wanted to talk.
Looking at it, the place where the politicians were sitting and where the Northern spectators were were both emptying out in real-time, so he must be feeling the heat.
What was it he said?
They say that a person matures when they experience defeat while they are young. Since our Mr. Opdyke is still young enough, I believe he will mature using this incident as a stepping stone. Indeed.
“My, Mr. Opdyke. The match is in full swing, why have you suddenly come all the way here? You aren't trying to eavesdrop on our tactics, are you?”
“T-that... Mr. Sett, so... that is...”
“Ah. But if we go to the 9th inning in this state, the sun will set, so what should we do? Shall we agree to continue the game only until the sun sets?”
Naturally, if they play this game until the sun sets, it’s no joke, but the score might reach 100:0. It seems like they’ve already been screwed enough, but if I torture the Northern spectators and players until the sun sets, how many different kinds of curses will our Mr. Opdyke hear?
Perhaps realizing that fact himself, Opdyke bowed his head, his lips trembling as soon as I finished speaking.
“...I beg of you, can't you just end the game after this inning?”
“Yes? It’s only the 3rd inning, though?”
“The outcome has already been decided. Honestly, how can we reverse this? The bat can't even touch the ball.”
“No, but even if the skill gap is large, we said we would do our best until the end, so how can you try to back out just because you’re a little disadvantaged? Doesn't that mean I wasted two precious months trying to play a measly 3-inning game?”
I’ll say it again, I just returned what Opdyke had intended to do to me like a mirror.
“I am truly sorry. I didn't know your ability and made a futile challenge. Please, bring it to an end here, and if you announce this game together as a charity game for your hospital...”
“Hmm, but if the game result had been the opposite and I had made such a request, would Mr. Opdyke have listened? I remember hearing advice recently that one must be crushed thoroughly when young to mature.”
“If there is something you desire...”
“I didn't say it with that intention, but if Mr. Opdyke helps me, I won't necessarily refuse.”
In fact, Opdyke wouldn't know at all, but I have no desire to openly make enemies of high-ranking Northern figures. Even if I couldn't get on the good side of those who would rule the political world as future winners, there was absolutely no benefit in being branded as an arrogant Dixie brat.
If this game can be finished with as little political color as possible, that is exactly what I desire, but for that, a proper excuse is needed.
“First of all, I hope that not only Tammany Hall but also Mr. Opdyke will help so that my hospital can do well in New York.”
“O-of course. That is something I must naturally do for you.”
“And please tell the Northern VIPs who attended today that I was the one who stepped up first to handle this situation. If you do just that much, I will finish it here.”
To the Southern figures, as a hero who raised the pride of the South to the fullest.
To the Northern figures, as a conscientious young man who didn't humiliate them even in a sufficiently advantageous situation.
Since I’ve grabbed the opportunity to appeal to both sides, as a result, it couldn't end better than this.
“...Is that all you need?”
“Of course. I had no intention of fighting from the beginning.”
Perhaps it was a more generous condition than he expected, but Opdyke bowed his head several times and ran to the umpire.
BEEP!
“Game over!”
And so, the first black-and-white baseball war that would remain in history for a long time ended with a terrifying record of 37:0, the first mercy rule game in history.
“James Sett! Well done! You are the hero of the South!”
“Mr. Sett! I believed in you!”
“Sett! What on earth is the secret? How on earth are you training your slaves!”
“The South’s greatest slave trainer, James Sett! Please, tell us the secret too!”
My recognition in the South hit the upper limit once again. The fact that the title of 'greatest slave exploiter' had been upgraded to 'greatest slave trainer' was a bonus.