The Left-Handed Ace's Revival Draws Scouts
North Myeong High's Association Cup schedule was proceeding smoothly. With Yoo Min-hoo's revival, the team now boasted two ace-level pitchers, making their mound rock-solid.
The ones most rattled by Yoo Min-hoo's sudden emergence were the pro teams. At this point, after the second draft, a third-year lefty hurling mid-140s km/h fastballs had burst onto the scene out of nowhere.
In fact, during the tournament, Yoo Min-hoo had clocked a top speed of 146 km/h—on par with Kim Ji-seok. And on top of that, he was a switch pitcher, swapping hands to match the situation. Lee Young-gon the reporter seized the moment, getting Yoo Min-hoo's permission to turn his prepared columns into a special feature and publish them lightning-fast.
But not everyone was thrilled about Yoo Min-hoo's spotlight. Oakland and Tampa Bay, who had already expressed interest in signing him, were notably displeased.
"Damn."
That word slipped naturally from Michael's lips that morning as he eyed a news article on a major portal site.
For Michael, who had been targeting Yoo Min-hoo, this was deeply unwelcome news. By now, word of Yoo Min-hoo had undoubtedly reached all thirty Major League teams.
Yoo Min-hoo wasn't currently registered as a U.S. amateur baseball player. Michael had checked: earlier this year, when he returned to Korea, he'd been removed from the U.S. amateur roster. No draft needed—just file a contract request with MLB headquarters, and he could be signed outright.
Of course, given his fame, there might be suspicions he'd left for Korea to negotiate a contract, potentially complicating things. But on paper, there were no major issues. And it was true he'd suffered a severe injury and rehabbed in Korea. Michael was confident the contract would go through smoothly.
No draft pick wasted, and at a price below his original hype. Michael had seen him as the ideal prospect. But now, the situation had flipped completely.
'His value won't jump to a first-round pick, even so. He's not in perfect shape. Still, it could climb to two million dollars max. Especially Boston—they'd come charging in with fire in their eyes.'
Yoo Min-hoo had another intriguing tie to Boston beyond baseball: he was the son of their Hall of Famer, designated hitter Jack Brown. Blood relation or not, the fact remained. For Boston, having father and son alternate starring for their team would be perfection.
Plus, Yoo Min-hoo himself was a Boston fan.
"No chance for us, huh?"
Michael tilted his head back, cradling his face as he muttered. He let out a deep sigh, then stared at the screen.
It showed footage of Yoo Min-hoo pitching in the Association Cup round of 16. Starting that game, he'd shut down the opponents over five scoreless innings, paving the way to victory.
"What an interesting idea, though."
Michael propped his chin, murmuring softly. In the video, Yoo Min-hoo dominated with his left-arm velocity, then switched hands to snag strikeouts with breaking balls.
'The lefty power impression is so strong it overshadows it, but most of his strikeouts come from right-handed breaking balls.'
Michael watched silently, a regretful expression on his face.
'If his right-arm velocity hit even the low 90s mph, he'd be Double-A ready right now. How is that even possible? You don't develop that overnight.'
Yoo Min-hoo's right-arm breaking balls were that polished. Even more astonishing, considering he'd never thrown right-handed before.
As Michael watched the footage in fascination, a knock came at the GM's office door.
"Come in."
It was Martin, a scout under Michael.
"Sir, I pulled the recent stats on those Double-A and below prospects you mentioned."
"Thanks."
Michael took the USB from Martin.
Martin glanced curiously at the computer screen Michael was fixated on.
"What're you watching?"
"Hot potato."
"Ahh."
Martin got it immediately and gave a wry smile.
"Other teams are in total chaos right now."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Word is Boston already sent a scout to Korea."
"Both teams with deep ties to Jack Brown."
Michael clicked his tongue softly. Martin shrugged.
"He's out of our reach now. Stop watching. It'll just hurt."
"Right? Let's scout some players we can poach from other teams."
Michael shook off the regret cleanly and plugged in the USB. Had he known Yoo Min-hoo was keen on joining Oakland, he might've flown to Korea himself.
Association Cup quarterfinals.
Today's starter: none other than Kim Ji-seok.
Shinmyeong High focused more on hitting than pitching and had reached the semifinals in the President's Cup this year—a strong showing. But like any high school, they'd lost key third-years to the rookie draft, thinning their roster. Their second-years stepped up, carrying them to the quarters.
A few months ago, they'd been rated above North Myeong High. Not anymore.
Shinmyeong's new ace, second-year Kang Ho-cheol, a righty sidearmer, started the round of 32, 16, and now the quarters.
Meanwhile, North Myeong's ace Kim Ji-seok had started the round of 32, rested in the 16 with Yoo Min-hoo starting, and was fresh.
Kang Ho-cheol, however, had grinded: eight innings in the 32, six in the 16, both over 120 pitches.
Before the game, Director Park Sung-tae instructed the hitters to grind out at-bats through the third to wear down the opposing pitcher. Hitting-heavy teams often lack pitching depth—even in the pros.
Shinmyeong relied heavily on their ace; once he cracked, scoring got easy.
North Myeong's lineup had weakened without Lee Ho-seok, Ha Tae-hoon, and Kwon Wan, but cleanup hitter Kang Jae-seong was solid, and first-year Park Chang-sik had grown rapidly as a regular.
They had the bats to exploit a crumbling ace. Shinmyeong, meanwhile, faced fresh Kim Ji-seok.
His 146 km/h heat was tough to hit consistently.
North Myeong's patient at-bats broke Kang Ho-cheol from the fourth; he loaded the bases facing Park Chang-sik at cleanup.
Park Chang-sik ripped a two-run double, driving in three and ending Kang Ho-cheol's day.
Kim Ji-seok went eight innings, one run allowed. North Myeong advanced to the semifinals.
September 28th. Busan: North Myeong High vs. Seoul Namwon High, semifinals.
Top of the first: Namwon's offense.
Yoo Min-hoo, loosening up on the mound, recalled Namwon High's profile.
'Namwon High: hitting-focused. President's Cup runners-up. Phoenix Cup champs.'
The top favorites to win it all. Their key player: today's starter, second-year Yoon Jun-seok. Next year's top draft pick. Like Kim Ji-seok, he'd been their ace all season.
Righty, 149 km/h fastball and curve—a two-pitch guy with impressive high school drop on the curve. A-grade pitcher.
But that wasn't all.
'He hits too.'
Namwon's ace and cleanup hitter. A-grade bat. Special prospect, naturally their Phoenix Cup MVP.
'But the real problem isn't Yoon Jun-seok.'
Yoo Min-hoo clicked his tongue softly.
The toughest for him: Namwon's third batter, Koo Seung-min. Elite hitter with power. Core of the lineup with Yoon, but trickier because he was a switch-hitter.
As Yoo Min-hoo organized his thoughts, Namwon's leadoff stepped in.
Gripping the rosin bag on the mound, dusting his left hand with powder, Yoo Min-hoo finished prepping.
He eyed the batter waiting post-routine, gripped the ball in his glove, and went into windup.
Power surging through his body, he stomped the rubber with his right foot and whipped his left arm.
Crack!—
The fastball rocketed in, thwacking the mitt with a sharp report.
"Hmm."
A man in his early fifties, seated in the infield stands watching Yoo Min-hoo's pitches, exhaled lightly and checked the speed gun in his hand.
90 mph.
'Not bad velocity.'
Mild, Boston's scout, eyes gleaming, murmured to himself.
'The owner's impatient, huh? Flew out the second medicals cleared.'
Mild chuckled, but he appreciated the owner's bold move.
He was one of the scouts who'd tracked Yoo Min-hoo closely since high school—not as Jack Brown's son, but as a top prospect. He'd been devastated by the shoulder surgery news.
But hearing the surgery and recovery were perfect, he'd pushed the owner and GM hard for the signing. They'd reviewed it positively, leading here.
He thought of the check in his pocket and felt certain of the deal.
$2,000,000.
That's right. He wasn't here just to watch pitches.
He'd come to sign Yoo Min-hoo.