Crushing Hits and Hidden Gems
"Ah~ North Myeong High's baseball practice field is always so spacious and nice, no matter when I come."
Kim Yong-su muttered as he stepped into the batter's box. Right now, the hitters from North Myeong High and Gyeong Sang High were gathered on the dirt field for batting practice. Overseeing the training was Director Park Sung-tae. As soon as Kim Yong-su finished setting his stance, the Gyeong Sang High coach on the mound tossed a pitch at a comfortable speed and location for him to hit.
Crack! The sharp sound of the wooden bat meeting the ball rang out. Gasps of "Ooooh!" erupted from the students watching.
Most of those observing the batting practice followed the ball's trajectory with their eyes, but two people kept their gazes locked on Kim Yong-su the entire time.
'Even better than on video. That swing path is flawless.' Director Park Sung-tae murmured to himself softly.
Meanwhile, Yoo Min-hoo, who had paused on his way to the indoor gym for pitching practice to watch Kim Yong-su hit, finally looked away and muttered, 'The focus to stare down the ball all the way to the hitting point, and that balance holding steady through a full swing—must be from flexible hips and legs. Even with that monstrous swing, his shoulders don't fly open, so the form is stable overall. And that distance with a wooden bat.'
Yoo Min-hoo synthesized the information on Kim Yong-su and reached a conclusion. 'Even in America, hitters like that are rare.'
Moreover, the reason U.S. scouts were showing such keen interest in him was his overwhelming strength against fastballs. In other words, he was a hitter specialized in crushing power with power when overwhelmed by velocity.
Last year, at the World Youth Baseball Championship in the U.S., his home run off Ted Brown's 97-mph inside fastball as a U.S. national team rep had drawn attention from every MLB club.
As Yoo Min-hoo headed to the indoor gym, Kim Yong-su stepped out of the box after finishing his swings. Out of ten pitches, he'd sent four over the outfield wall.
'In peak condition, huh.' Director Park Sung-tae let out a short sigh.
Right now, there probably wasn't a single North Myeong High pitcher who could go toe-to-toe with him and win.
Just then, two outsiders entered the practice field. The woman, Park Hana, made a disappointed face as she saw Kim Yong-su leaving the plate.
"Ah! I missed Kim Yong-su's batting practice!"
"Yeah, yeah. I'm the villain here."
The man, Lee Young-gon, sighed in response to Park Hana. Now 32, Lee Young-gon was a columnist for a major portal site. He wrote not just about Korean pro baseball but also MLB and Japan's league. Fans in Korea and the U.S. alike eagerly awaited his columns. Some American sports magazines even translated and published his MLB pieces directly. MLB scouts occasionally reached out to him for intel too.
Park Hana, his junior, sighed at her senior's unenthusiastic reply. Lee Young-gon, hands in his pockets, turned his gaze to the field and muttered.
"Well, at least Lee Ho-seok's coming up right on time."
At his words, Park Hana pulled out her camera. The Gyeong Sang High coach tossed a pitch to Lee Ho-seok in the box.
Thwack. The ball rocketed off his bat with a crisp sound, soaring high into the outfield. The distance drew more gasps from the students, though not as loud—coming right after Kim Yong-su's turn.
"Lee Ho-seok's got solid hitting skills too, but with Kim Yong-su around in the Busan region, he doesn't get as much shine, right?"
Park Hana muttered regretfully, and Lee Young-gon yawned as he replied, "What's wrong with that? That's top national level right there. Besides, Lee Ho-seok's no slouch compared to Kim Yong-su."
"Because he's a catcher?"
"Exactly."
Lee Young-gon nodded. But Park Hana still tilted her head. "Even for a catcher, comparing him to Kim Yong-su feels a bit..."
Kim Yong-su was the talk of the town as a historic home run hitter. Even with Lee Ho-seok's excellent bat for a catcher, Park Hana thought it was a stretch to put them on equal footing.
Lee Young-gon clicked his tongue softly at her. "Know what the dumbest thing in baseball is?"
"What?"
"Believing a prospect will live up to the hype."
Prospects are prospects, no matter what. Sure, those showing exceptional growth potential often explode, but coldly speaking, failures far outnumber successes. That's why modern baseball favors 5-tool players among hitters. It's not just that versatile players help in games—it's that the more tools they have, the higher the odds they'll bloom.
For pitchers too, it's not just velocity; they consider control, breaking balls, innings-eating stamina, and more. Kim Yong-su was outstanding, no doubt. But that didn't mean betting the farm on his future.
While Kim Yong-su shone as a hitter, Lee Ho-seok had two key strengths: elite catching and elite hitting. His pro potential lay in defense, which would shine through regardless. And his catching skills were already top-notch. Plenty of fielders have great gloves, but catchers? Rare. If his bat held up, Lee Ho-seok had sky-high odds of becoming that elusive complete catcher.
From every angle, Lee Young-gon was right—Lee Ho-seok wasn't inferior prospect material to Kim Yong-su. Flashy surface appeal versus rock-solid substance made all the difference.
Park Hana stuck out her tongue watching Lee Young-gon focus on the field. He seemed scatterbrained at a glance, but when it came to baseball, he had the chops of an expert recognized even in America.
During the joint training, both teams' directors were on high alert, sizing up the opposition.
'Hitters look flashy, so pitchers might seem weaker at first glance—but nope. Their staff's solid too. Even without their seniors graduating, they're holding up to last year. No wonder they're championship favorites this season.' That was Director Park Sung-tae's take on Gyeong Sang High.
'Lee Ho-seok could hit cleanup for us no problem. Leadoff Kwon Wan looks even more precise this year... Jae-seong Kang's finally got that starter vibe. Makes sense—he was a 5-tool prospect since middle school. Offense is his strength. But North Myeong's issue is still pitching. Kim Ji-seok's the only standout. Team's improved from last year, but not quite our level yet.'
Gyeong Sang High Director Kang Hak-gyu nodded as he wrapped up his assessment of North Myeong High.
As training wrapped and lunchtime hit, people began gathering around the field—North Myeong High students who'd heard about the scrimmage and come to watch. Amid clusters of casually dressed kids, Yoo Min-hoo finished lunch and headed to the faucet, rubbing his left shoulder. He spotted Lee Ho-seok chatting with a girl in plain clothes and tilted his head.
He knew her well. Lee Ho-seok noticed Yoo Min-hoo and asked, "Where you headed?"
"Washing up."
The girl, Lee Yoon-ji, bowed her head slightly at Yoo Min-hoo. "Hi. Thanks again for the other day."
"No big deal."
Yoo Min-hoo shook his head at her words, and Lee Ho-seok looked puzzled. "Wait, you two know each other?"
"Helped her with her bag on the way to school a few days ago."
"No kidding?"
Lee Yoon-ji glared at Lee Ho-seok as she answered. Yoo Min-hoo tilted his head at their friendly vibe.
"Your girlfriend?"
"Huh? Pfft... hahaha!"
Lee Ho-seok burst into low laughter at Yoo Min-hoo's question, while Lee Yoon-ji openly glared and grumbled, "That hurts my feelings."
Lee Ho-seok stopped laughing and patted her head. "My little sister."
"...?"
Lee Yoon-ji swatted his hand away irritably. Watching silently, Yoo Min-hoo blurted out without thinking, "Wasn't your sister a boy?"
"...?"
Lee Yoon-ji stared at him in surprise. "Pfft... Nah, she's always been a girl. Haha."
Lee Ho-seok struggled to hold back his laughter. In Yoo Min-hoo's memories, Lee Ho-seok's sibling—Lee Yoon-ji—had been a boy. But now? Clearly a girl.
"What're you talking about?"
Lee Yoon-ji's voice sharpened instinctively, sensing something off, though she couldn't pinpoint it. Lee Ho-seok fought harder to stifle his laughs, while Yoo Min-hoo looked away and scratched his cheek.
"Please take care of us!"
The neatly lined-up North Myeong High and Gyeong Sang High players faced each other and shouted energetically before heading to their dugouts.
North Myeong High's starter today: right-hander Kim Ji-seok. Gyeong Sang High countered with their own sophomore righty, Park Min-chae. Among Gyeong Sang's second-years, Park Min-chae had the best stuff and was already tabbed as their next ace.
On the surface, sophomores versus sophomores—but reality differed. North Myeong was sending their top ace; Gyeong Sang, an ace-level (or MLB's No. 2 starter equivalent) arm.
Arms crossed in the dugout, Director Park Sung-tae eyed the opponents and sighed inwardly. 'Would've preferred facing their ace Sin Hyun-soo.'
Sin Hyun-soo: the gem hidden behind Gyeong Sang High's flashy offense. Kim Ji-seok might edge Park Min-chae, but against Sin Hyun-soo? No contest.
As Park Min-chae warmed up on the mound, North Myeong's leadoff hitter Kwon Wan stepped in from the left side. Last year: .396 average, 6 homers. This year, with refined precision, he could push .400—their star center fielder contact hitter.
At 179 cm and 76 kg, he was light on power, but as a pure contact guy by design, it wasn't an issue. Great plate discipline: lays off bad pitches, spoils borderline ones. Excellent speed too. A nightmare style for pitchers.
Park Min-chae readied as Kwon Wan set up. The ump called "Play ball!" and the scrimmage began.