A Tempting Proposal
"Hmm. Not a bad offer, I thought."
Ella tilted her head as she reviewed the documents Wayne Logan had left behind, checking them over in the living room. Yoo Min-hoo glanced at her and said,
"Yeah. But that doesn't mean we need to rush into signing right away. Especially since my shoulder isn't fully healed yet."
Besides, they weren't desperate for money at the moment. Five hundred thousand dollars was certainly a huge sum. But it wasn't enough to shake Yoo Min-hoo and his family to their core.
His father was a former Major League superstar, after all.
Kim Mi-hyun was currently on the phone with her husband, discussing the situation.
"Still, it's impressive they offered this much knowing your condition."
Prospects in the Major League first round typically commanded signing bonuses in the millions. Five hundred thousand dollars was more in line with a third-round pick—a hefty amount nonetheless.
For reference, Major League Baseball had implemented a slot money system during the amateur draft to prevent rich teams from scooping up rookies with massive bonuses. Each team was assigned a spending limit based on their draft slots that year.
In any case, one reason Yoo Min-hoo had been avoided by Major League scouts after his injury was the cost of a draft pick. The injury was critical for a pitcher, and while his name carried weight, burning a pick on an injured player meant missing out on healthier prospects—a risky gamble.
But now, as an international amateur free agent, he could be signed directly without costing a draft pick. That made his situation highly appealing.
"They must've weighed all the circumstances."
As Yoo Min-hoo spoke, gripping a hand strengthener, Ella nodded in agreement.
Just then, Kim Mi-hyun finished her call and sat down on the living room sofa.
"I told Jack about the situation."
"What'd he say?"
"He said to leave it to your judgment. The offer's treatment isn't bad at all, money-wise."
Yoo Min-hoo nodded and fell deep into thought.
Honestly, he was torn. His path now diverged sharply from the Yoo Min-hoo of his previous life. Back then, around this time, he had been barreling toward ruin.
But now, people were recognizing his value. It was a joyful development—and given the bitterness of his past, it was only natural his heart leaned toward Tampa Bay.
As he wrestled with the dilemma, Yoo Min-hoo let out a deep sigh. He turned to Kim Mi-hyun.
"Mom."
"Yes?"
"I want to hold off on the contract for now."
The old Yoo Min-hoo had crumbled because he was too hasty. This time, he wanted to rehab carefully in a relaxed environment.
Going pro might offer better facilities, but it would come with pressure he didn't want. Above all, he believed in his own comeback. Once rehab was complete, better offers would surely come.
Kim Mi-hyun nodded at her son's words.
"Do whatever you think is best, dear."
***
The high school baseball second-half weekend league schedule ran from May 21 to June 28.
There were no major changes in the regional team assignments. The top three teams from each region would still advance to the Blue Dragon Cup, the king-of-the-kings tournament.
However, the frontrunners in the Busan-Jeju region had shifted dramatically from preseason predictions.
The top favorite remained Gyeongsang High, winners of the Golden Lion Cup. But the other two spots went to North Myeong High—which had faced skepticism about its roster earlier in the year—and Jeju High, long considered the weakest team in the high school league.
North Myeong had reclaimed some glory by upsetting Daegu High, a Golden Lion Cup favorite. Jeju, meanwhile, was buzzing with hype thanks to their monster rookie, Lee Soo-min.
For context, Lee Soo-min had burst onto the scene as a no-name lefty slinging 150 km/h fastballs, drawing massive media attention. Stories about how such a talent had flown under the radar made for juicy headlines.
May 16, Monday. Reporter Lee Young-gon visited North Myeong High's field to request an interview with Director Park Sung-tae—and, of course, he didn't forget about the draft's crown jewel, catcher Lee Ho-seok.
"Right now, Daegu Bears and Incheon Warriors seem the most likely to draft you. What do you think?"
"Well, whichever team picks me, I'll give it my all there."
"Hmm. Any team you'd prefer?"
"Hm... My heart's with Busan Phoenix, of course."
Lee Young-gon nodded understandingly. Born in Busan, Lee Ho-seok naturally felt attached to his hometown team.
But Busan Phoenix wasn't in a position to draft him. Every team needed a solid catcher, and while theirs was average, their pressing issue was a lack of pitching. They were targeting arms in the draft.
Daegu Bears, on the other hand, picked earlier and had a gaping hole at catcher after veteran Park Jin-woo's retirement. They saw Lee Ho-seok—a franchise-star prospect with power hitting and elite defense—as the perfect successor.
Incheon was eyeing him too, desperate for long balls after their lineup's power drought became glaring.
"What about your signing bonus plans?"
First-round picks averaged 300 to 500 million won—a fortune most people couldn't touch in a lifetime.
"Gotta get my parents a new car and chip in for my little sister's college tuition."
"Family man, eh? You'll make a great husband. Got a girlfriend?"
"Not yet."
Lee Young-gon smoothly steered the casual chit-chat. As it wrapped up, he shook Lee Ho-seok's hand.
"Setting baseball aside, as a fan, I'm really looking forward to you."
Lee Ho-seok burst out laughing. He was already in the spotlight as the next national team home-plate guardian.
After the interview, Lee Ho-seok headed to the field for training. As Lee Young-gon scanned the North Myeong practice, his eyes landed on Yoo Min-hoo doing catch ball off to the side.
"Interview over?"
Director Park Sung-tae, overseeing drills, approached the lone reporter.
"Yes, Director. By the way, have you heard about Yoo Min-hoo's contract offer?"
"Contract?"
Park Sung-tae furrowed his brow, as if hearing it for the first time. Lee Young-gon nodded.
"Yeah, Tampa Bay reached out to him. Looks like you haven't heard yet."
"Well, it's the player's personal business. And even without consulting me, he's got the best advisor possible—Jack Brown."
"You're talking about Jack Brown, right?"
Park Sung-tae nodded. His connection to Jack Brown dated back to his playing days in Seattle, where they were teammates.
He even remembered little Ella tagging along to the dugout with her dad. She, in turn, recalled him fondly. (She'd been the dugout darling back then.)
With a Major League superstar for a father, Yoo Min-hoo had no need to consult Park Sung-tae—and the director wasn't the type to take offense.
"Tampa Bay did their homework."
"Exactly. I was shocked when I learned he was a big prospect stateside."
"I'd appreciate it if you held off on reporting that."
"Sure, it's tempting material as a reporter... but he came to Korea for a quiet rehab. I'll break the story when the time's right."
In truth, Lee Young-gon had already written the piece on Yoo Min-hoo. He couldn't let a gem like this slip away—he just hadn't published it yet.
The media was a fickle beast: blowing trifles out of proportion, downplaying the monumental, and peddling lies with ease. Korean outlets were especially allergic to accountability.
Exposing a rehabbing high school rookie's story could bring unwanted side effects—no one knew what.
"How's the rehab going, anyway?"
Lee Young-gon asked slyly; he'd quietly inquired with Tampa Bay scouts about it himself.
"Trainer says it's progressing near-perfectly."
"Whoa."
Lee Young-gon let out an impressed murmur, gazing at Yoo Min-hoo on the field.
"That's something to look forward to."
It wasn't the reporter speaking—just a pure baseball fan.