The Weekend Game Was a Shame
May 16th, during the break before second period. Park Soo-yeon approached Yoo Min-hoo as he prepared for the next class and struck up a conversation.
“The weekend game was a shame.”
At her words, Yoo Min-hoo gave a wry smile.
“Well, we gave it our all, but what can you do.”
It was true that North Myeong High's overall power fell short of Gyeongsang High's. On top of that, Kim Yong-su, furious at failing to get revenge against Yoo Min-hoo, unleashed insane hitting prowess in every at-bat—going 3-for-3 with a home run, a walk, and three RBIs in an MVP-caliber performance.
The media buzzed with stories about how he'd put on an impressive show in front of scouts from major league teams like Chicago and Tampa Bay eyeing him, predicting Tampa Bay would come calling with a massive signing bonus.
Anyway, pitchers who faced Kim Yong-su said the pressure he exuded was suffocating.
Though they'd heartbreakingly fallen at the quarterfinals threshold, from North Myeong High's perspective, knocking out a title contender like Daegu High was more than enough to announce their strength to the world.
For the record, Gyeongsang High had won their semifinal yesterday and advanced to the finals.
“Still, you were amazing.”
“What was?”
“You came in out of nowhere and shut them down for two innings. Against Gyeongsang's top lineup, no less. Just a month ago, you weren't even a starter, and now you're stepping up like that? That's huge. Are you secretly some prodigy or something?”
Yoo Min-hoo looked at Park Soo-yeon, who grinned playfully as she spoke.
“It only worked because they had no intel on me.”
“So humble.”
Park Soo-yeon teased him in response. It was true that the lack of scouting info had given him an edge, but his performance was still impressive regardless.
Park Soo-yeon, beaming with a bright smile, suddenly looked like something had just occurred to her.
“Oh, hey—wanna go watch some baseball?”
“Baseball?”
“Yeah. This Saturday at Sajik Stadium. My uncle gave me infield tickets to go with some friends.”
Yoo Min-hoo rubbed his chin at her words.
“Is this a date invite?”
“Getting ahead of yourself. I invited Ho-seok and Yoon-ji too.”
For reference, Lee Ho-seok and Park Soo-yeon had been classmates often since elementary school, close enough to banter and tease like siblings. Naturally, she was tight with his sister, Lee Yoon-ji, as well.
“Hm.”
Yoo Min-hoo pondered for a moment. He had nothing scheduled that Saturday. Plus, since coming to Korea, he hadn't set foot in a ballpark yet, sparking his curiosity about the vibe at a pro stadium here.
“Sure.”
As Yoo Min-hoo nodded, Park Soo-yeon bobbed her head energetically in return. The pre-bell rang right then, and she stood, heading back to her seat for class.
Yoo Min-hoo tore his gaze from her, prepping his textbook—then glanced at his left hand, clenching it lightly into a fist before pulling out his books and pencil case to finish getting ready.
After classes ended that day, Yoo Min-hoo skipped the baseball club and headed straight for the school gate. With the Golden Lion Tournament freshly wrapped, practice was off today. On top of that, it was his day to check in at the hospital for left-arm rehab progress.
Waiting at the gate in his car was Park Sang-won, his assigned rehab trainer. Yoo Min-hoo hopped in and they drove to the hospital.
Once there, after a battery of tests, he sat down for a consultation with his attending physician and Park Sang-won.
The doctor was a sharp-eyed woman in her early thirties, wearing glasses.
“Hmm. Your rehab progress looks excellent, Yoo Min-hoo.”
Lee Hyo-yoon stroked her chin as she reviewed the chart.
“Shoulder recovery seems solid, and you're managing it perfectly. Great work, Trainer Park Sang-won.”
“No, no—I'm barely doing anything.”
Park Sang-won scratched the back of his head with an awkward smile.
“Yoo Min-hoo handles his rehab schedule flawlessly on his own. He knows exactly what he should and shouldn't do. Honestly, when I first heard about his case, I thought it'd be tough... but it's the opposite. These days, I'm the one mostly handling the North Myeong High kids.”
Lee Hyo-yoon looked mildly surprised at that. As his rehab attending physician, she knew Yoo Min-hoo's MLB background as well as Park Sang-won did. She specialized in pro athletes, a top grad from a U.S. med school recruited to this hospital. She'd taken his case on a senior colleague's recommendation from stateside—and the files that colleague passed along had given her pause.
They detailed the player's burning desire to rush his injury recovery and get back on the mound at any cost.
Rehab's core was post-op management and patience, not surgery itself. For pitchers like Yoo Min-hoo with shoulder injuries, overdoing it could be catastrophic.
Thankfully, his wasn't career-ending, but the shoulder demanded extra caution.
Still, pitchers often spiraled into massive anxiety right at injury onset—especially young phenoms like him, terrified of losing status and overobsessing on rehab, leading to poor outcomes more often than not.
I was the same.
Yoo Min-hoo sighed inwardly.
Pre-regression, he'd been so young. Never imagining it'd end his career like that. Back then, he'd fixated on his immediate prestige, desperate to return to the mound ASAP and dazzle scouts like before.
That obsession birthed disaster, leaving him unable to pitch lefty. Switching to righty, he'd clawed through pro ball day by day, yearning madly to turn back time.
If he could rewind the clock, he'd do anything.
It's a miracle.
This bizarre reality still felt unreal to Yoo Min-hoo. What were the last ten years of his life compared to now?
As he sank into those thoughts, Lee Hyo-yoon eyed him with keen interest. She already knew this high school senior was pitching right-handed. She'd been floored at first, but he'd become the team's starter and shone in the Golden Lion quarterfinals.
As a doctor, she should've cautioned against a teen slinging varied breaking balls—but knowing his history, she wasn't overly worried. Park Sang-won felt the same.
What an intriguing patient.
Lee Hyo-yoon murmured to herself before smiling faintly.
“Anyway, rehab's going perfectly, so don't rush it. At this rate, you'll be throwing again soon.”
“Yes.”
Yoo Min-hoo nodded.
May 21st, around 5 p.m. Park Soo-yeon stood in front of Sajik Stadium, checking her watch before scanning the crowd. She glanced at her reflection in a nearby shop window.
Stepping closer, she fussed with her hair, straightened her clothes, then stood tall and nodded. The girl in the mirror radiated the lively energy of her age. Pretty enough to draw passing glances.
“Hey, Park Soo-yeon.”
Someone called her name. Turning, she saw Lee Ho-seok and Lee Yoon-ji trudging over in casual clothes. Ho-seok had that unmistakable athlete's vibe.
“You made it.”
“Hi, unnie.”
Lee Yoon-ji greeted her warmly as she approached.
“Yeah. Hope I didn't drag you from studying?”
“I like baseball too, so it's fine. What about you, unnie? You're a senior.”
“Hah. Who do you think I am?”
For the record, Park Soo-yeon's grades ranked in the school's top tier. North Myeong High was renowned academically too—top marks there meant smooth entry to Seoul universities.
“A peppy high schooler fretting over studies... You're too deep in society's grind.”
Lee Ho-seok, who'd been listening quietly—no stranger to poor grades—clucked his tongue sympathetically, earning a kick from Yoon-ji.
For reference, he was a prime first-round draft pick. Yoon-ji had seen team reps approach their parents multiple times, jaws dropping at the bonus figures mentioned.
He's just a dummy big bro.
She shook her head at Ho-seok hopping around, yelping in pain with narrowed eyes.
“Anyway, where's Min-hoo? Isn't he coming with us?”
“He called earlier—said he'd be here on time. Something came up, I guess.”
Park Soo-yeon tilted her head at Ho-seok's shrug—
“Oh, there he is.”
A familiar voice rang in their ears. Looking over, they saw Yoo Min-hoo waving as he approached. Casual clothes suited him perfectly.
But Park Soo-yeon and Lee Yoon-ji couldn't focus fully on him.
He wasn't alone.
A tall foreign woman walked beside him—none other than Ella.