The morning after the game, Rafael woke up to several messages from the team group chat. Most of them were from Joshua.
Joshua: Two home runs.
A few seconds later, another message appeared.
Joshua: TWO.
Rafael smiled before putting his phone down. Yesterday had been simple: he had played, hit, and helped his team win. Today, however, there was one thing he couldn’t ignore anymore.
The next teams had seen him.
And they had seen exactly what he could do.
At breakfast, Lia was still talking about the game while Elena scrolled through the videos on her phone.
"Your second home run already has a lot of views," Elena said.
Rafael shrugged. "That’s fine."
Manuel looked at him. "You don’t seem bothered."
"I’m not."
"But you understand what comes with it, right?"
Rafael paused. He knew exactly what Manuel meant. "People will expect me to do it again."
Manuel nodded. "That’s what I’m talking about."
Lia looked between them. "Is that bad?"
Rafael shook his head. "No. It just means the next game won’t be the same."
He didn’t explain further, but inside, he was already thinking about it. Yesterday, Gabriel Torres had been caught off guard. The next pitcher wouldn’t be. The next coach would know where Rafael liked the ball, how he reacted to different pitches, and what kind of hitter they were dealing with.
For the first time since returning to baseball, Rafael felt something familiar.
Pressure.
Not the pressure of failure, but the pressure of being expected to succeed. He almost smiled at the thought. That was something Alex Sterling had known very well.
At school, Jared caught up with him before class.
"You’re famous."
Rafael sighed. "Please don’t start."
Jared laughed. "Fine. But seriously, people are talking about the game."
Rafael nodded, but Jared’s next question made him stop.
"Do you think you can hit another one next game?"
Rafael looked at him. "I don’t know."
Jared blinked. "That’s the first time I’ve heard you say that."
Rafael smiled slightly. "Because I don’t know what the next pitcher will do."
That answer stayed with him throughout the morning. It wasn’t because he doubted himself; it was because he understood baseball.
A hitter could control his swing, but he couldn’t control the pitch, the defense, or the opposing coach. Now that everyone had seen him play, the advantage of surprise was gone.
And Rafael knew that was going to make the next game more interesting.
After classes, Rafael received a message from Daniel.
Coach Daniel: No official practice today. Rest.
A recovery day should have been easy. Instead, Rafael found himself sitting at home with his laptop open, watching footage of the opposing teams.
He wasn’t watching his own home runs.
He was studying pitchers, defensive alignments, tendencies, and the way hitters were attacked once opponents figured out their strengths.
Rafael stopped one clip and leaned back.
"Exactly."
This was the part he had missed.
Not hitting. Not running. Not the sound of the bat connecting with the ball.
The chess match.
Every at-bat was a conversation between the pitcher and hitter, and every adjustment created another adjustment. The first game had introduced Rafael to his new teammates, but the next game would introduce the tournament to the real challenge of facing him.
And Rafael understood the difference.
That evening, he ate dinner with his family. Lia asked him about school, while Elena eventually brought the conversation back to baseball.
"Do you already know who you’re playing next?"
"Not yet."
Manuel looked at him. "Are you worried?"
Rafael thought about it before answering. "No. Not worried. Just thinking."
"About what?"
"The next game."
Manuel smiled. "That’s probably a good thing."
Rafael nodded and looked down at his plate. "The first game was easier because nobody knew what to expect from me."
Lia frowned. "Easier?"
"Not the game," Rafael explained. "The situation. Nobody knew what I could do, so they couldn’t prepare for it."
Elena nodded as she understood.
"But now they know."
"Yeah."
Manuel leaned back in his chair. "So what are you going to do?"
Rafael looked at him.
"Adjust."
The answer came naturally. It was the same answer he had used for twenty years. Different body, different age, different country, different teammates—but the game itself hadn’t changed.
Later that night, Rafael returned to his room and checked his phone. Miguel had sent him a message.
Miguel: Coach said tomorrow we’ll start preparing for the next opponent.
Another message followed.
Miguel: He also said they’re already asking about you.
Rafael stared at the screen for a moment before replying.
Rafael: Good.
Miguel answered almost immediately.
Miguel: Good?
Rafael typed back.
Rafael: Means they’ll show us how they plan to stop me.
He put the phone down and stared at the ceiling.
The first game had been about proving that his talent wasn’t an accident. The next game would be different because now they knew what was coming, and every at-bat would be a battle against a pitcher who had already studied him.
Rafael smiled.
That was the baseball he remembered.
Not the easy part, where everyone was surprised by what you could do, but the part where everyone knew you were dangerous and still had to find a way to stop you.
Tomorrow, the real adjustment would begin.