Speaking of which, Rivera paused for a moment, and then shifted the topic, "The cutter is different from these pitches—its characteristic is 'moderation'—2 to 3 miles slower than a fastball, its displacement is only a third of a slider, yet these traits have allowed it to firmly occupy a niche in modern baseball."

"I don't know if you've noticed, Lin—compared to our era of baseball, since the 2010s, Major League hitters have increasingly aimed to send the ball skyward...the fly-ball revolution has almost transformed the ecology of pitching and hitting, and launch angles of 25 to 30 degrees have become the pursuit of every hitter, while fast cutters are the nemesis of this swing trajectory!"

"To be honest, the threshold for this pitch is not low: If you're just a soft tosser with a fastball barely reaching 90 mph, or a young player whose fastball mechanics haven't fully solidified, I wouldn't teach you anything, since doing so could harm you; but since you've already become the latest Cy Young winner, I won't hold anything back and will impart all my years of experience to you; how much you can grasp depends on your insight..."

"But there's one thing I can guarantee..." At this, Rivera chuckled, his eyes exuding strong confidence, "If you can truly make the cutter one of your key pitches, those fly-ball hitters, and the left-handed hitters you find challenging now, will begin to fear you, meaning you'll exert less energy to eat up more innings..."

"And incidentally, break more of your opponents' bats." Hearing this, Lin Guanglai couldn't help but burst out laughing after exchanging glances with Rivera—during his playing days, Rivera broke at least a hundred bats of opposing hitters with his masterful cutter; the "Broken Bat Throne" gifted by the Twins in his retirement season is now displayed in his Panama home.

From this morning onward, Lin Guanglai started learning at Rivera's side: Benefiting from the Southern Hemisphere's summertime climate and the locals' warm hospitality, he spent quite a joyful time here—daytime was dedicated to practicing and refining his pitching mechanics, occasionally interacting with local children; evenings were spent far from the city's hustle and bustle, experiencing Panama's local customs accompanied by enthusiastic locals.

Compared to the almost constant bustling of New York, an international metropolis, Lin Guanglai indeed preferred this kind of feeling, reminding him of his college days—a life where there was only baseball and friends, free from any interests, striving purely for the sake of dreams.

Two weeks quickly passed by, and on the last day, with Rivera and many children watching, Lin Guanglai personally threw a cutter that could be considered perfect, and soon applause rang in his ears.

"Lin, your insight is something I've never seen before, not even those legendary pitchers could compare to you." Rivera said slowly, satisfied as he looked at the big boy before him, "I have nothing more to teach you."

That evening, in a restaurant in Panama City center, as they looked at the thriving scene outside the window, Rivera opened a good bottle of wine and clinked cups with Lin Guanglai, "So why did you come here, Lin—surely not just for a cutter, right?"

Lin Guanglai slightly swirled the wine in his glass, thoughtfully saying, "Partly for the cutter, but also because I wanted to become more focused before the new season starts..."

"The allure of New York is overwhelming: after winning the championship, everything sped up—endorsements, interviews, parties...even occasions completely unrelated have invited me to appear, frankly speaking, I don't see myself as someone like Derek (Jeter) who thrives in the limelight."

"Mariano, the reason I sought you out is because you are the one in the team who can always stay calm and maintain your original intention after victory time and again; when people talk about you, they always praise your outstanding contributions as an athlete, praise your great character, not about which endorsement you just signed today, or which celebrity you were rumored with tomorrow..."

"Hahahahahahaha..." Listening to Lin Guanglai's words, Rivera burst into laughter; but soon, his expression became serious, "Because I never forgot where I came from, Lin—I grew up here, fishing, playing ball with broken bats in rough fields; my biggest dream used to be becoming a mechanic, saving enough money to open my car repair shop and just muddle through life."

"God gave me the gift of pitching, and a bit of luck in being discovered by Yankees scouts, even my initial role switch to a closer was due to a teammate's injury—a sudden incident; if it weren't for that accident, I might have already been traded to another team with Derek."

"For this reason, every time I step on the pitcher's mound at Yankee Stadium, I always tell myself: Mariano, you're just a lucky fisherman, talent will fade, luck will abandon you, but humility—humility is a garment you can choose to wear every morning when you wake up."

Saying this, Rivera turned toward Lin Guanglai, "This season you've won MVP, won the Cy Young, won the World Championship, and exposed cheaters, now the whole world wants to define you, to fit you into a narrative of hero and genius..."

"But Lin, I hope you don't forget who you are, don't forget that what truly defines us isn't the media, isn't the fans, isn't those glittering championship rings and MVP trophies, but you yourself—the true definition of you is in every throw, every swing in training and on the field, in choosing to win cleanly rather than colluding with the cheaters."

As the plane took off, Lin Guanglai took one last look at this land: From above, Rivera's baseball field seemed almost negligible; it wasn't until the clouds gradually swallowed the view that Lin Guanglai took out the farewell gift Rivera gave him:

This was a baseball with slightly worn leather, the signature ink markings had somewhat dried but the date remained faintly recognizable—October 26, 2000, the night the Yankees defeated their cross-town rivals New York Mets to claim a third consecutive title; this ball was Rivera's game-winning pitch.

On another blank space of the leather, there were words too, the barely dried ink suggesting they were written recently: Beside Rivera's signature, was a sentence he left for Lin Guanglai—

"The answer is in the seams."

With the cabin lights dimmed, Lin Guanglai gently closed his eyes, simultaneously envisioning the perfect cutter's trajectory: launching from his fingertips, traversing Panama's rainy season, passing through Big Apple City's vibrancy, cutting through every noise, finally settling in the sweet spot of the catcher's mitt.

The new season's spring training soon arrived, with each team starting their active preseason preparations:

For the Yankees, Martinli and Girardi have almost completely different personalities, and Lin Guanglai needs to develop a rapport with Realmuto—New York Yankees, determined to retain their championship, face just as much pressure as anyone else.

After one day's training session ended, Lin Guanglai's phone rang; upon seeing the caller's name, a slight smile naturally appeared at the corner of his mouth:

"Hey, isn't this 'the high schooler'?"