The Scorching Heat Begins – Monday, May 7th
The sweltering heat truly began tormenting the players on Monday, May 7th. The Nashville Ports had traveled to face the New Orleans Zephyrs. Having arrived the previous evening on Sunday, the 6th, they were now training at Zephyr Field, the Zephyrs' home stadium. The three-game series kicked off tomorrow, May 8th. After the long bus ride, the players needed a day of rest.
Yoo Min-hoo, who had started the day before, skipped most training, sticking only to running and strength work. It had been about a month since he'd transitioned to starting pitcher. Amid high expectations and concerns, he was steadily establishing himself in the role.
Four starts: 1 win, 2 losses. 23 innings pitched. 14 runs allowed (12 earned). ERA of 4.69. 27 strikeouts. WHIP of 1.15.
Still short of major league caliber, but for a second-year pro in Triple-A, these were impressively solid numbers for a starter.
As Yoo Min-hoo stretched off to the side, Tyrone approached.
"Hey, Roy."
"What?"
"You really dating that reporter or what?"
Yoo Min-hoo sighed at Tyrone's question.
"Nah."
"Hmm."
Tyrone glanced toward the stands at his answer. Marsha was there, watching the field. On assignment to cover Yoo Min-hoo's feature story, she'd attended most of the Ports' home games and even road tilts.
"She's been showing up like that for a month, and you say there's nothing?"
"Probably just work," Yoo Min-hoo replied offhandedly, leaning forward into his stretch and focusing.
Tyrone scratched his head, watching him.
Marsha scanned the entire field with slightly weary eyes. Minor league schedules wore even the players down. Major leaguers traveled long distances too, but buses and planes didn't sap the body the same way.
She stifled a light yawn, wiping the tears from her eyes, and looked at Yoo Min-hoo chatting with Tyrone.
Roy's still a rough gem, not fully polished.
Those picked by Baseball Research as "Prospects to Watch This Year" were usually near-complete stones. But Yoo Min-hoo was far from that. When the vice president first assigned her to cover him, plenty at the magazine had raised eyebrows.
Yet after covering him firsthand, Marsha vaguely understood the VP's thinking.
He's a rough gem, but... incredibly seasoned somehow.
Like hardware still developing, but software fully optimized—that was the perfect analogy for his current state.
What the hell happened to him in his senior year of high school when he got injured?
From elementary through high school, Yoo Min-hoo had been the classic amateur ace relying on raw velocity. At that level, God-given stuff alone could dominate. And he'd fit that mold perfectly.
But after the left shoulder injury, he changed. She got hiding from the press and heading back to Korea briefly. But joining a Korean high school team as a righty, then emerging half a year later as a switch-pitcher helping win the team title? She'd dismissed it as a fun anecdote at first.
Now, though, 2016 Yoo Min-hoo made no sense. Same high school era, but pre-2015 and post were night and day. How does a pure power pitcher overwhelming with innate stuff transform overnight into a crafty veteran oozing savvy?
It's a mystery. Once Roy blows up, serializing this could be huge.
Marsha chuckled wryly at the thought of a future feature.
Here I am plotting major league stories for a guy not even there yet.
Ridiculous, even to her. Propping her chin, she watched as he finished stretching.
Still, Roy's gonna make it.
She'd never felt that certainty evaluating prospects before. But he inspired it. Staring blankly for a moment, their eyes met. After three seconds locked, he smiled and gave a casual wave.
Marsha turned away with a subtle pout.
Chamber Ricky was practicing his bullpen throws.
Thwack! The ball stabbed sharply into the catcher's mitt.
As Chamber focused intently, the bullpen catcher stood and said, "Hey, Chamber. Too much effort there."
Chamber pulled off his cap, wiping sweat. "Just throwing a bit harder."
"Still, ease up. Your motion's getting stiff."
Bullpen catchers weren't just mitts. In Korea or Japan, maybe, but in the US, they often doubled as coaches. And the one catching now, Baek Allom, was exactly that.
At Baek's note, Chamber shook out loosely. Baek watched, puzzled.
"Chamber, something going on lately?"
"Nothing special... Why?"
"Just seems like you're rushing things recently."
"......"
Chamber furrowed his brow at Baek's words.
Me, rushing?
It didn't compute. No reason to rush—he was already a bullpen cornerstone for the Ports. Oakland scouts, famed for their eyes, had drafted him in the first round. A little polishing, and he'd thrive as a big-league reliever; his stuff was that refined.
"Fastest June, latest September—you'll get the call-up. Don't push so hard."
Baek patted his shoulder, removed his mitt, and said, "That's enough for today's session." He headed off to check other pitchers.
Chamber left the pen for the dugout, lost in thought. Baek's words had surfaced something subconscious.
Lately, feels like something's chasing me.
In the dugout, gulping from the water cooler, he sank deeper into rumination.
What the hell's chasing me?
As Baek said, he was a standout second-year pro gunning for majors. Meeting scout hype. Media pegged him as Oakland's future bullpen anchor. So why this nagging unease?
As he pondered, someone entered the dugout.
Roy.
It was Yoo Min-hoo. Watching him drink, Chamber said, "You look sharp lately."
"Eh, not bad."
Last year, both relievers, they'd been rivals. Chamber averted his eyes, frowning. Same draft class, but not buddies. Not enemies either—just teammates.
Still, Chamber found him grating. Objectively, he outclassed Roy now. Last season too, Roy hadn't truly threatened him.
Yet Chamber saw him as competition. Roy's rapid growth pressed on him heavily.
That realization hit: Roy was the source of his impatience. Pride stung inexplicably. Why feel pressured by an inferior?
Shaking it off, he slammed down the bottle and stormed out.
Manager Weden stood silently on the field, hands in pockets, eyes on the diamond.
Bottom 7th, game one vs. New Orleans. Score: Ports up 5-2. Runners on first and second, no outs. The starter, steady through six, unraveled in the seventh with back-to-back walks. Pitch count just over 100.
Weden eyed his bullpen options: Cole Klaus, Chamber Ricky. Both core arms, prime call-up candidates.
Cole's steadier, but...
Chamber dominated hitters better, piled up Ks. But stability? Cole edged him out. Chamber was too emotional—especially when runners reached unexpectedly.
Chamber needs reps handling jams like this.
Decision made, Weden climbed the mound for the change. Efficiency screamed Cole. But Triple-A was development central, flaws got fixed here.
Chamber took the hill. Weden, stone-faced as ever, handed over the ball, patted his shoulder, and descended.
Chamber fiddled with the ball, warmed quick, then fired. But he walked in a run for bases loaded, yielded a single, then induced a double play for two outs, escaping the inning scoreless.
No earned runs, technically solid relief. But not impressive.
Watching Chamber stomp irritably into the dugout, Weden sighed inwardly.
My instincts as skipper are sharp.
A wry half-smile at his own joke.
That hothead streak's gotta go.
He glanced at Yoo Min-hoo seated quietly aside.
Roy's the calm one—shockingly so. With Chamber's stuff and Roy's poise, he'd be up already.
Comparing their mental games, Weden snapped back, plotting the next rally.