High School Weekend League
The high school baseball weekend league ran from spring through early summer, with games every weekend. It was divided into first and second halves, with teams assigned to regional leagues. The top performers from the league advanced to the King of Kings tournament. With separate first-half and second-half tournaments, the prestigious Golden Lion Tournament and Blue Dragon Tournament had established themselves as the respective qualifiers.
The first half featured ten regions and a total of 68 high school teams. Thirty-six teams advanced to the Golden Lion Tournament. North Myeong High belonged to the Busan/Jeju region, which included seven high schools. The frontrunner for the title was, predictably, their rival, Gyeongsang High.
The Busan/Jeju region had four tickets to the Golden Lion Tournament. Each team played six games. North Myeong High's first goal was clear: qualify for the Golden Lion.
"It's a goal, but not a tough one for our team."
In the director's office, Park Sung-tae gathered with his coaches for a meeting and spoke up. Last year's performance had been dismal—bordering on disastrous. Yet Park Sung-tae wasn't pessimistic about this season. Three teams in their region relied heavily on their seniors, meaning several faced generational turnover issues.
North Myeong High had some weaknesses in pitching, but their offense was top-tier in the region, Park Sung-tae believed.
"The real challenge is the Golden Lion, right?"
"Exactly."
The weekend league was essentially a filter to weed out mediocre teams that didn't qualify for the Golden Lion. Even if Korea's high school baseball scene was smaller than in the US or Japan, 68 teams meant a full tournament would be a scheduling nightmare.
"How are the first-years looking?"
Park Sung-tae's question drew responses from the first-year coaches.
"Not bad. A couple could make the roster as relievers right away."
"So no one ready for starts."
"Yes. They have some velocity, but they're too fastball-dependent."
In high school baseball, a solid breaking ball could dominate hitters. Mastering one wasn't easy, though. Currently, North Myeong's only reliable starters were ace Kim Ji-seok, a second-year, and third-year Ha Tae-hoon. Fewer starters meant more physical and mental strain on pitchers—and made it easier for opponents to game-plan against them.
"Pitching's the issue, as always."
The coaches sighed in unison.
"Kim Ji-seok, that's enough for now."
A burly man in his mid-to-late twenties sighed shortly and stopped Kim Ji-seok mid-pitch. Kim Ji-seok grumbled in response.
"Just a few more."
"No. You're over 50 pitches already. That's too much even for bullpen work. Give your shoulder a break."
Kim Ji-seok reluctantly stepped down from the pen, eyeing the firm trainer. The man scanned the indoor pitching facility, shaking his head. North Myeong players still weren't fully used to him, but they instinctively knew he was on their side.
He was Yoo Min-hoo's rehab trainer—officially hired to manage the pitching staff. As a pro-level specialist, he outshone the coaches in conditioning, nutrition, and off-field care. He'd studied sports training in the US, handling pros.
After observing the pitchers, he approached Yoo Min-hoo, who was resting nearby.
"Hired to manage Yoo Min-hoo, and the main guy's the one I barely touch."
"You're a huge help. Having a pro trainer makes all the difference."
Yoo Min-hoo shrugged, drawing a chuckle from the trainer. It was true. Still, Park Sang-won found Yoo Min-hoo's management easier than expected.
"Sorry about this. Looks like you're handling the whole team."
Park Sang-won gave a nuanced smile at Yoo Min-hoo's apologetic tone.
"It's fine. High schoolers are easier than I thought, and it's good experience. Plus, I'm a Park Sung-tae fan."
"Really?"
"How's the left shoulder?"
Yoo Min-hoo rotated it.
"No pain, but still stiff."
"Don't use it till I say so."
"Got it."
Yoo Min-hoo nodded with a grin. Park Sang-won tilted his head.
"Yoo Min-hoo, any prior injuries?"
"Nope."
Yet he handled rehab like a veteran—professional process, flawless routine. Park Sang-won wondered if he was even needed. Trainers didn't just plan; they enforced rest, managed mental and physical strain. Young stars often buckled under rehab stress, but Yoo Min-hoo, America's top high school prospect, stayed zen.
'Makes sense. Switching to right-hand pitching isn't normal.'
When he'd first heard Yoo Min-hoo planned to pitch right-handed in Korea, his head throbbed. But meeting him? Flawless.
'Mature, too.'
"What about Kim Ji-seok?"
"Great talent. Too aggressive, though. Solid velocity, but obsessed with more."
On his first day, Kim Ji-seok asked about boosting speed. Park Sang-won advised focusing on consistency and control instead, coordinating with coaches. Kim's speed fixation lingered.
'Influence?'
Kim Ji-seok was a middle school star, starter-caliber as a first-year. Last year, though, he'd rarely started officially—thanks to favoritism toward upperclassmen and "gifts." Skilled and proud, getting pulled loaded against Korea's top hitter after a homer? Humiliating. Then Yoo Min-hoo struck out Kim Yong-su on three pitches. Ego bruise for an ace.
'Flaw and strength.'
Such drive fueled growth—but injury risk. Yoo Min-hoo had crumbled that way once. Ironically, the trainer benefited Kim Ji-seok most now.
Yoo Min-hoo stood, grabbed his glove, and headed to the practice pen.
'Form's settling in. Shoulder adapting.'
'Once velocity stabilizes, add pitches beyond circle changeup.'
Right arm exceeding expectations, he mounted the mound and began throwing.
The first-half weekend league ran from March 19 to April 24. North Myeong's Busan/Jeju region included Gyeongsang High, Busan High, Busan Industrial High, Busan Cyber High, Dong-A High, and Jeju High. Their opener: Jeju High, deemed the weakest of 68 teams.
Last year, North Myeong had floundered overall but swept Jeju. Jeju's isolation—no other baseball high schools nearby—meant sparse practice, inevitable weakness. North Myeong approached the game lightly.
March 26, Saturday. 9:30 a.m. Busan Gudeok High. North Myeong vs. Jeju was the day's first matchup. North Myeong batted first; reserves watched from stands. Yoo Min-hoo joined them, spotting classmates and parents cheering lightly. There was Park Soo-yeon, his classmate.
"Bench today?"
She waved, grinning warmly. Yoo Min-hoo smirked.
"Lucky draw—Jeju first."
"Weakest, right?"
"Yeah. Beat 'em easy last year; should be fine. Hmm... opponent's pitcher is tall."
Park Soo-yeon squinted at the mound. Yoo Min-hoo followed. He'd scouted Jeju minus first-years—all familiar. Tall guy, early 180s cm. Not on his list.
"First-year?"
'But... familiar?'
Yoo Min-hoo's face hardened as a TV broadcast overlaid his mind.
-Complete game shutout in World Series finale! Fulfilling his ace role perfectly! Monster! He's a monster!
-First ever! National League Cy Young winner this season...
"First-year? Easy win then."
Park Soo-yeon smiled.
"Maybe not."
She tilted her head at his denial. National League's best. Asia's first Cy Young. Future mound monster. Yoo Min-hoo named him.
"Lee Soo-min."