The Right Arm's Resolve
Generally, when a pitcher suffers an injury that prevents them from throwing, the training shifts to basic physical conditioning. At the same time, they must take care not to let the strength in the injured arm deteriorate. And for pitchers with shoulder injuries, the most accessible training was grip strength work.
In the afternoon training session, Pitching Coach Han Myeong-hwan waited for Yoo Min-hoo in the indoor gym. Soon, Yoo Min-hoo appeared in workout clothes and stood before him. Looking at the boy, Han Myeong-hwan spoke up.
"Let me know your uniform size by the end of today's training. I need to place the order."
"Yes, sir."
"I've heard the rough story from the director. Your left shoulder is injured?"
"That's right."
Han Myeong-hwan gave the student in front of him a slightly peculiar look at his response. A shoulder injury was one of the most fatal problems for a pitcher, one that could directly threaten their career. But even so, the idea of throwing with the other arm during rehab wasn't something people normally considered.
'What an unusual kid.'
Muttering to himself inwardly, the pitching coach soon adopted an understanding expression.
'Well, he's still young.'
To be honest, it wasn't a bad idea. The issue was whether he could produce proper results. From what Park Sung-tae had told him, the main goal was to avoid losing his feel for baseball as a player. High school players grew quickly, but they also lost skills noticeably if they slacked off.
"From watching you throw yesterday, your basic pitching form looks solid."
"Yes. Personally, I don't think it needs changing."
"……."
Han Myeong-hwan paused at Yoo Min-hoo's firm assertion of his opinion but nodded soon after. The North Myeong High coaching staff's basic philosophy was to respect the players' thoughts. If it was an idea that made no sense, that would be different, but from what he'd seen yesterday, Yoo Min-hoo's form wasn't bad at all.
"Your velocity hit 117 kilometers per hour yesterday."
And that was the slowest among all the North Myeong High pitchers, freshmen included.
"The director said you weren't throwing at full effort. Is that right?"
"Yes."
"Why not?"
Han Myeong-hwan asked with a puzzled expression. Yoo Min-hoo answered.
"Because I haven't thrown much with my right arm up to now."
"Not much at all?"
The coach looked a bit surprised. It wasn't fast, and the form was a little awkward, but overall, Yoo Min-hoo's throwing yesterday had been remarkably stable for someone with almost no experience using his right arm.
'Must be because his body's naturally well-built.'
Even left-handed pitchers didn't train only their left arm exclusively. To maintain balance, they trained both arms during physical sessions.
"Your left arm rehab will be handled by a personal trainer, so that's not our baseball team's concern, right?"
"Yes."
"So, you'll train as a right-handed pitcher here at our school……."
Stroking his chin and murmuring softly, Han Myeong-hwan nodded.
"Your form doesn't need major corrections. We should focus on strengthening your right arm so it can handle throwing without strain."
"That's why I brought these."
Yoo Min-hoo pulled out a grip strengthener, latex tuning bands, and a towel for shadow pitching from his bag. They were basic tools for arm training.
Han Myeong-hwan silently eyed the items Yoo Min-hoo had taken out, his gaze settling on the grip strengthener. There were two of them. Curious, he picked one up and squeezed. His expression changed slightly.
"This grip strengthener……."
"It's for my left hand."
"How many kilos?"
"72 kilograms."
'72 kilograms? That's pro level.'
Han Myeong-hwan was stunned inwardly. Among the high school pitchers he knew, only one used over 70 kilograms, and that kid was a top prospect drawing major league interest.
"Huh."
Letting out an exclamation, the coach set it down and tried the other one. The right-hand version was relatively easy to grip.
'This one's about 50 to 60 kilograms, roughly.'
That was a solid, standard level. Proper grip strength was essential for control and pitch power, as it directly transferred force to the ball.
"Your training schedule from now on: shadow pitching, shoulder strengthening and form tweaks with the bands, and live batting practice."
"Got it."
Yoo Min-hoo nodded as Han Myeong-hwan outlined the specifics.
March 5, 2016. Saturday. The first week since Yoo Min-hoo transferred had passed. His impression of North Myeong High so far was positive. Classes were a bit tricky—being more used to English than Korean made it challenging—but nothing major. Crucially, his schedule revolved around the baseball team.
His formal entry into the team had been processed yesterday when his mother, Kim Mi-hyun, visited the school. The chairman, who had been excited hearing about the once-famous American prospect, was disappointed by Park Sung-tae's explanation of the injury hindering full power, but it didn't block his admission.
Relations with the team were a mixed bag. The players seemed intimidated by the transfer student. Only Park Sung-tae and Han Myeong-hwan knew about his American prospect status and injury; the rest had no clue about his skills.
Still, he clicked well with captain Lee Ho-seok. He'd started chatting with a few outgoing guys too, warming up gradually.
Anyway, Saturday morning at 9:30. Yoo Min-hoo stepped out in casual clothes, gear bag in hand. Today was a practice game against another school's team: Gyeongsang High, one of Busan's two baseball powerhouses and their local rivals. Unlike North Myeong High's disastrous record last year—which embarrassed its prestigious name—Gyeongsang had won the Golden Lion Tournament, reached the Chungryonggi semis, and made the Phoenix Cup quarters. They were favorites for top spots in nationals this year too.
Park Sung-tae had scheduled this to test if North Myeong's current strength held up against a national contender.
As Yoo Min-hoo left home, Lee Ho-seok emerged at the same time, gear in tow. After a quick greeting, they headed to school. Gyeongsang would arrive at 10, followed by light training till 11:30, lunch, and game start at 12:30.
"Gyeongsang High…… Last year was full of bad memories."
Lee Ho-seok muttered on the way. Yoo Min-hoo looked puzzled.
"Why?"
"We lost every time we played them, official or not."
"Well, their seniors graduated, so who knows this year. But they had tons of starters in second year last time—no big drop-off expected."
"……."
"Anyway, today's for washing away last year's humiliation~"
Lee Ho-seok punched his right palm enthusiastically. Yoo Min-hoo chuckled.
"Good luck."
"Aren't you a North Myeong student?"
"I'm not a starter."
***
By the time the two arrived, changed into uniforms, and finished prepping, a bus pulled into the North Myeong High athletic field. It carried the Gyeongsang High baseball team. The first to step off was an elderly man with slightly white hair. His build was larger than average for his age, around sixty.
Park Sung-tae and Han Myeong-hwan approached, bowing in greeting.
"Welcome, Coach Kang."
"Oh, Sung-tae, Myeong-hwan. Long time no see."
They knew each other well; Coach Kang Hak-gyu patted Park Sung-tae's shoulder warmly. Like Park, he was a former pro first-team coach, connected through national team days. Han Myeong-hwan, also a national team alum, was friendly with him too.
As the three chatted, Gyeongsang players disembarked one by one. From afar, one stood out to Yoo Min-hoo: bigger than the rest, impossible to miss. Even Lee Ho-seok, who was burly, looked smaller by comparison.
"They're here."
Lee Ho-seok muttered beside him, sounding deflated. His name was Kim Yong-soo. A super high school slugger, pure power hitter. A starter since freshman year, core of Gyeongsang's offense. Every pro team watched him; even MLB sent scouts. Top prospect.
Yoo Min-hoo crossed his arms, silently observing Kim Yong-soo. He'd seen data on him before and knew he was impressive.
'Still, no one's without weaknesses…….'
As he thought that, the coaches called the North Myeong players to assemble.
"We'll do joint training till lunch. Batters group up with batters, pitchers with pitchers."
And training began.
"Aigoo! Sunbae, how could you oversleep!"
"Quiet. My alarm didn't go off."
"It did—you just didn't hear it!"
A woman in her mid-twenties scolded a man in his early thirties. By looks and title, he was the superior, but he couldn't stand up to her.
"Ugh, shut it. I'm catching more Z's—wake me when we arrive."
Tired of her nagging, he reclined his seat for a nap. But the car was already at the destination.
"Fine. Wake up, sunbae. We're here."
"What?"
The man stared blankly out the window. She shook her head in disbelief.
"Can't believe this guy's a columnist respected in Korea and America."
She parked and they got out. Their destination: North Myeong High's visitor parking lot.