Professional baseball players are self-employed, and even those drafted simultaneously are rivals. Everyone's livelihood depends on their performance, and injuries are a personal battle. Yet, there's a special bond among those drafted in the same year. Jealousy of peers' success mixes with genuine happiness for them. When pitcher Sugisawa narrowly missed the Rookie of the Year award last season, I felt the disappointment as deeply as if it had been my own.
This year, four of us—one pitcher, one catcher, one infielder, and one outfielder—decided to do some training together. Utilizing each other's strengths, we aimed to create a synergistic effect that would make our training truly meaningful.
Mornings were dedicated to building strength. We started with a 5km run, followed by pole-to-pole sprints and hill sprints. Catcher Haratani struggled with running. Alone, he would likely cut corners, but with only four of us, his competitive spirit kicked in, and he couldn't let his guard down.
"Hey, are you still going? Catchers don't run much during games," Haratani panted, more winded than the rest of us.
"That's not true. We have to cover first base, and if Mitamura throws a wild pitch or you miss the ball, we need to chase it," I replied.
"Mitamura, don't throw wild pitches during a game."
"Haratani-san, please don't miss the ball."
Good luck to both of you. Though Takeshita kept his usual sullen expression, he seemed to enjoy our banter.
After the morning run, various training sessions filled our afternoons. We enlisted team members to play defense, with Mitamura pitching and Haratani catching. Takeshita, struggling with fastballs, took his swings while I manned second base. In terms of speed and extension, Mitamura's pitches were first-rate. Standing at 190cm, he could consistently throw nearly 150km/h(93 mph), even when taking it easy. If he could gain control, his future looked promising.
"You know that, right? If you hit something, you'll be fined 100,000 yen," joked Haratani.
"It's okay. I can easily pay up to 200,000 to 300,000 yen."
Takeshita approached the plate, wearing a helmet with a face guard, along with elbow and knee pads. Maybe he should also wear safety shoes to protect his toes. Sure enough, Mitamura's low ball nearly hit Takeshita's toe, narrowly avoiding it.
Takeshita glared sharply at Mitamura, who then threw a fantastic fastball, low and inside. Takeshita's half-hearted swing missed it completely. If he couldn't hit balls like this, breaking into the first team would be tough. Mitamura's fastball and curveball repertoire, though limited, was still challenging for Takeshita.
Hitting Mitamura's ball was no small feat. Even at reduced strength, his pitches were formidable. Personally, I had my issues with hitting too. In high school, I managed to hit Yamazaki's fastballs during practice, but the balls thrown in professional games had a different extension, even at the same speed. They seemed to glide past the bat as I swung.
Batting practice was a solitary endeavor. Thousands of swings didn't guarantee improvement. It felt like knocking on a door that might never open. Still, we kept tapping, hoping it would one day.
Our training continued, with occasional role switches to simulate real game situations. Once, I pitched, Haratani covered second base, Takeshita caught, and Mitamura batted. During one pitch, Mitamura was accidentally hit by the ball and doubled over in pain.
"See? Now you know how much it hurts when you get hit by a hard ball," I said.
"Hey, you owe me 100,000 yen for that," Mitamura joked.
"I never agreed to that," I replied with a grin.
Then it was my turn to bat.
"Oh no, you'll be fine," Mitamura encouraged.
"I can't hit it, so someone else should go," I said nervously.
"Who's going in?" Haratani asked.
We laughed and continued our banter, carrying out meaningful independent training sessions until camp began in February.
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