The National Team Dilemma
Michael entered the front conference room attached to the dugout clubhouse and pulled out a chair, sitting down as he eyed Yoo Min-hoo settling into the seat across from him. Having just heard about the national team invitation, Michael anticipated a lengthy discussion and had brought Yoo Min-hoo here for privacy.
Crossing his legs comfortably, Michael opened his mouth.
"So, what's this sudden talk about the national team?"
Michael asked with a puzzled expression. From his perspective, it was something he hadn't even considered.
Yoo Min-hoo responded, looking at him.
"I had a brief trip back to Korea last year, and that's when I got the offer for the national team."
"Did someone from Korean baseball directly approach you?"
"No, it was my high school coach, Director Park Sung-tae, who told me."
"Park... Sung-tae? Seattle's Sung-tae Park?"
Michael murmured the name softly, then recalled who it was and asked again. Yoo Min-hoo nodded in confirmation.
"Hmm."
Michael furrowed his brow, sinking into thought for a moment before asking,
"Well, if it's the national team... does that mean you'd have to play in things like the Premier12, WBC, or Olympics?"
"That's right."
Michael's face twisted slightly at Yoo Min-hoo's reply. Major league teams generally disliked their players participating in national team duties. From the club's standpoint, it was all downside with no upside. The average MLB salary was around $4 million. Even in the offseason, no team welcomed the risk of a multimillion-dollar player getting injured in international play. Especially the Olympics, which fell smack in the middle of the season—a complete nightmare for MLB clubs.
"Do you have to do it?"
At Michael's question, Yoo Min-hoo shrugged.
"There are a few complicated issues involved."
"What kind of issues?"
"Military service."
"......"
Michael stared blankly at Yoo Min-hoo's words, his face a picture of surprise at this unforeseen problem.
Come to think of it, Roy is Korean.
He'd forgotten amid how seamlessly Roy blended with the other players. Scratching his head, Michael said,
"I thought military service issues could be resolved through citizenship matters?"
Yoo Min-hoo had come to the US at age seven and lived there ever since. Even though he'd attended his senior year of high school in Korea at nineteen, his father was American. Sorting out citizenship would free him from any obligations, and there were past Korean MLB players who'd renounced their Korean citizenship to dodge the draft.
"It could be resolved that way, but I don't want to go to those lengths."
Shaking his head, Yoo Min-hoo made his stance clear. He was certainly more comfortable in America than Korea, but he didn't want to solve it through what felt like a loophole. His mother, Kim Mi-hyun, also seemed to prefer he serve honorably via national team participation rather than abandoning his citizenship.
Michael crossed his arms at Yoo Min-hoo's response.
"Does performing well in the Premier12 solve the military issue?"
"No, I'd need to win a medal at next year's Olympics."
Leaning back in his chair, Michael pondered. After a moment, he clapped his hands lightly and stood up.
"Got it. We have time on this, so let's think it over gradually. No need for an answer right now, right?"
"Yes."
Yoo Min-hoo nodded as he rose with Michael.
"Good. Go get to training."
With that, Yoo Min-hoo left the conference room. Alone now, Michael tapped a rhythmic beat on the table with his fingers, muttering to himself.
"Military service."
It was a problem he hadn't even imagined.
In MLB spring training, camps start with massive rosters of 50 to 60 players, but the numbers dwindle as time passes. It's a brutal survival competition, sharply dividing survivors from the cut. Players already on the 25-man roster stand apart from this grind, but even they aren't entirely safe during camp.
On the field, batters were deep into hitting drills. A batting practice pitcher fired from the mound.
Heison Lawson, Oakland's cleanup hitter, had just finished his session. Back in the dugout, he wiped sweat with a towel and glanced toward the plate.
Whiff—
Crack!
"Oh?"
He let out an impressed exclamation at the massive black batter's powerful swing. The well-struck ball soared effortlessly over the outfield wall. That swing alone screamed raw power.
It was Tyrone Wed at the plate.
The gulf between MLB and minor league treatment was vast. Even uniforms told the tale—back numbers marked major leaguers' status. Oakland treated minor leaguers better than most teams, but that was relative. Consequently, some big leaguers looked down on the minors. Nice guys didn't, but the world wasn't full of saints. Hierarchies bred such attitudes inevitably.
Yet no Oakland player disrespected Tyrone.
"That guy's got some serious power."
Heison remarked with an amused grin. Yoo Min-hoo, resting in the dugout, chimed in.
"Pure strength-wise? Stronger than you, Heison."
"Hm?"
Heison turned to Yoo Min-hoo, his face lighting up with interest.
"That kid's stronger than me?"
Yoo Min-hoo shrugged in response.
The cleanup spot went to a team's top slugger, and those guys were powerhouses. Heison fit the mold perfectly—the strongest hitter on Oakland.
"So he's my fierce rival now?"
A hint of sarcasm crept into Heison's mutter, his pride a tad bruised. Yoo Min-hoo smirked.
"By that logic, I'm the ace candidate."
Heison burst out laughing despite himself. Raw power didn't guarantee home runs. It helped distance, but tech was king for dingers.
"You've got a silver tongue, huh? Bill might need to watch his back, though."
Heison murmured as Tyrone headed to the dugout.
As spring training progressed, exhibition games naturally followed. March 4th, Monday—Oakland faced Cactus League rival LA Robins.
Just before the game, Yoo Min-hoo spotted a familiar face and smiled warmly.
"Yoo Min-hoo. Long time no see?"
"It's been a while, Mr. Lee."
The only Korean reporter he was close with. Lee Young-gon chuckled at the welcome.
"How'd you spend the stove league?"
"Just training, nothing special."
"No dating?"
"Everyone I meet asks that."
Yoo Min-hoo grumbled lightly, drawing laughter from Lee Young-gon.
"By the way, there seem to be a lot more Korean reporters today?"
Yoo Min-hoo noted, scanning the press area. Lee Young-gon shrugged nonchalantly.
"It's an exhibition, but from our angle, it's a matchup we can't ignore."
"Something going on?"
"Hm? Oh, you might not know."
Lee Young-gon nodded understandingly, then gave a meaningful smile.
"Specifically, it's because of you and the Robins' starter today."
Yoo Min-hoo could only look puzzled. Meanwhile, Tyrone—named the starter catcher—geared up, frowning at the crowd.
"What's with all the reporters today?"
Col Cloud in the dugout answered.
"Probably 'cause of Roy. Lots of Korean press."
Since his MLB call-up last year, Yoo Min-hoo drew attention from Korean media, plus Japan and Taiwan. Korea celebrated their young MLB pitcher; the others eyed the new star warily.
"Mr. Popular."
Tyrone grinned. Yoo Min-hoo shook his head.
"Not just me. The Robins' starter's drawing them too."
"Who's their starter?"
"Lee Soo-min."
Tyrone's eyes widened slightly.
"The Korean rookie who signed with LA Robins last year? Two-point-five mil, right? Impressive if he's already in big league camp."
As he whistled, a teammate smirked.
"How impressive can a fresh high school grad be? Just pandering to Korean media. Right, Roy?"
"Kinda."
Agreeing, Yoo Min-hoo glanced at the Robins' dugout. Outside, a tall Asian—Lee Soo-min—was doing interviews. Stroking his chin, Yoo Min-hoo exhaled softly.
"Still, he won't be a pushover."
"Huh?"
His teammates all turned with baffled looks.