A low rumble, and then—

Creak!

The old bus’s engine went quiet. The silence marked the end of a long trip.

Out the window was the familiar parking lot of the Quakes’ home park. The players stepped off the bus with the championship trophy, and their faces were bittersweet.

Taylor came down the bus steps and stood in front of them. He took off his cap and pushed his hair back. He didn’t look like the strict manager they knew. He looked relaxed, like some guy from the neighborhood who’d rolled through a whole season with them.

“Good work, all of you.”

Taylor’s eyes went from one player to the next.

“Winning it all was great, but the way you got there was better. Thanks for putting up with my nagging all year. Get some rest. And next season…”

Taylor stopped for a moment.

The minors are a cold business. More than half the men here might be released next year or quit baseball altogether. He knew better than anyone that “see you next year” was a promise with no guarantee behind it.

But Taylor smiled.

“Wherever you end up, I hope you keep loving baseball. Dismissed!”

“Thank you, sir!”

“Thanks for everything!”

One by one, the players grabbed their bags and scattered. Some had family there to pick them up, some called cabs, and some just stared blankly at the sky. That was how each of their seasons came to an end.

Just then, Taylor called three names.

“Cash, Mark, and Suho. You three, come see me a minute.”

The four of them went to Taylor’s office.

The desk that had been buried in lineup cards and paperwork all season had been cleared off at some point. Taylor sank into his worn leather couch and waved the three of them into seats.

“Sit. Relax. You’re not in trouble.”

Suho, Mark and Cash sat down awkwardly. They were the ones who’d just teamed up to win a championship on the field, but they sat as quietly as students called to the principal’s office.

Taylor looked at the championship trophy on the table for a moment, then spoke.

“We don’t have much time, so I’ll get right to it. Cash, you first.”

“Yes, sir.”

Cash looked up.

Taylor smiled at him, satisfied. A first-rounder. A genius. He’d been a pain in the neck, but in the end he was the best talent on the club, and he hadn’t hesitated to get filthy for the team.

“You were great this year. Without you, forget winning it all—we wouldn’t have even made the playoffs.”

“…I know.”

“Yeah. Still got that obnoxious confidence, I see.”

Taylor let out a big laugh.

“The club made its decision. Next season, you’re going up to High-A. Depending on how spring training goes, you might jump straight to Double-A.”

A tremor ran through Cash. It was what he’d expected. But hearing it straight from the manager’s mouth carried a different weight. Being recognized always felt good.

“Keep it up when you get there. There’s no question about your talent. And don’t forget to show them something in the Arizona Fall League this time, either. That place is crawling with monsters like you.”

Cash said, flatly, “I’m confident.”

“Good. But remember this. That steal you pulled in the championship series. That play where you threw your body on the line for the team. If you don’t forget that when you move up to a higher level, you’ll be in the big leagues a lot sooner than you think.”

Cash, who’d been showing nothing but confidence, just nodded without a word this time.

Then Taylor turned to Suho.

“Suho.”

“Yes, sir.”

Taylor looked at him and was lost in thought for a moment. The old rookie who’d washed out in Korea. At first, Taylor had figured he was just a hard worker. But this kid had worked a miracle. He’d given Taylor the brightest fire of his whole baseball life, right at the end of it. Taylor pretty much owed him.

“You… honestly, your promotion to High-A isn’t locked in yet.”

Suho’s face stayed calm. He looked like he already knew. His age and his track record both left him in an awkward spot.

“But the door’s open. If you play in Arizona the way you’ve played here, the promotion’s in the bag.”

“Thank you, sir. For giving me the chance.”

“No. You made that chance yourself.”

Taylor leaned forward and looked Suho straight in the eye.

“Go show them. Show them the baseball you played here works even with those monsters. Prove you weren’t wrong. Then the suits in the front office won’t have any choice but to admit it.”

It sounded less like an order from a manager than like cheering from a fan who believed in Suho’s kind of baseball.

“Give it everything. You’re a player who’s earned that.”

Suho felt something heavy settle in his chest.

Taylor was the first grown man he’d met here who’d believed in him completely. And he’d heard that Alex, who’d taught him his mechanics, had come on Taylor’s recommendation, too.

Suho got to his feet and bowed deeply to Taylor.

“I’ll prove it, no matter what.”

Taylor was clearly counting on him. Why else would he have written him a letter of recommendation? Suho wanted to pay that kindness back, whatever it took.

I’m never going to drag his name through the mud.

Taylor nodded, satisfied, and turned to the last one left.

“And Mark.”

Mark flinched when Taylor called his name.

The truth was, Mark was dying of jealousy over Suho right now. Cash was one thing—he was a first-rounder, in a whole different league. But Suho’s situation was a lot like Mark’s, wasn’t it? They’d both joined the league late. And Suho was still going to Arizona. That meant the club recognized how fast he’d grown and was sending a clear signal: they were going to develop him as a core prospect.

I’m so jealous.

Mark thought he’d done pretty well himself, but next to the impact Suho had made, it felt pathetic. He’d let go of any expectations, figuring he’d get a few compliments and that’d be it.

“You’re going to Arizona too.”

Mark’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.

“M-me? Wh-why?”

Shock came out before any joy did.

Why him? Looked at objectively, it didn’t make sense. Cash had torn the league apart all season, and Suho had changed the whole identity of the team in no time.

But him? Sure, he’d put up good numbers since he joined, but the sample was way too small. He’d done his job as the number-four hitter, but if you asked whether it was so overwhelming that a Low-A club should send three players to Arizona in one year…

I mean…

He wasn’t sure.

And the club had picked him anyway?

The calculator in Mark’s head ran fast. Then his eyes landed on Suho, sitting next to him.

Ah. Got it.

He was riding Suho’s coattails. Mark was the teammate Suho clicked with best, and the first player to buy into his leadership. The club, or maybe the manager, had thrown him in as part of a package deal, so Suho would settle in and they’d feed off each other.

Big as he was, Mark was quick to read a room. Once he’d put it together, a smile tugged at his mouth.

Did it hurt his pride?

Nope. Not one bit.

If anything, he was grateful. Whatever the reason, the Arizona Fall League wasn’t somewhere you got to go just because you wanted to. So what if he was riding along as the second half of a two-for-one because of Suho? In the end, he was the one who’d gotten the chance, and all he had to do was go prove himself. One way or another, his name was now on the club’s list of prospects to watch.

Mark jumped up and bowed his head.

“Thank you, sir!”

“Yeah. Go do well. You’ve got plenty of talent yourself.”

Mark grinned and added, cheeky as ever:

“I’ll keep being good buddies with Suho, so don’t you worry about that part.”

Taylor burst out laughing in disbelief.

“Hah. For a big guy, you catch on quick, don’t you?”

Taylor didn’t deny it. But he didn’t forget to drive the point home, either.

“I’ll say it again, though. All I did was recommend you. The club’s the one that made the call. It means that picky farm director looked at your tape and your numbers and signed off.”

Taylor’s eyes turned serious.

“So the club has its eye on you too, and there’s no reason to feel small out there. Got it?”

“…Yes, sir! Thank you!”

Mark’s voice came out strong. Being told he wasn’t just a throw-in, that his own potential had been recognized too, meant a lot.

That was the kind of real mentor Taylor was. These guys were young enough to be his sons, and he truly thought of them and treated them that way.

Taylor rubbed his chin.

“Hmm… I think that’s everything… No, wait. There’s one more thing.”

His eyes lit up like something had come to him.

“You have to play well in Arizona, no matter what. Anybody know why?”

Cash looked like he couldn’t care less. Suho shook his head, lost. Even Mark, who knew the baseball world inside and out, frowned like he had no idea.

Taylor huffed a laugh and went on.

“Only if you play well there will you get a real shot next February.”

Right then, Mark’s eyes flew open. He knew how the baseball world worked better than anybody, and to a ballplayer, February meant only one thing.

“Ah… no way… spring training?”

“Yeah. That’s right.”

Spring training. The stretch before Opening Day when major league clubs gather in warm Arizona or Florida to get into shape and play exhibition games. Every superstar you’d only ever seen on TV turned out for it. It was, quite literally, a stage out of a dream.

Normally, players at the Low-A or High-A level couldn’t even dream of it. The natural order of things was for them to train in minor league camp, eating dust.

But Taylor was opening the door to a possibility that looked impossible—and he didn’t forget to draw a realistic line, either.

“Honestly? You could hit 1.000 in the Arizona Fall League and turn every hit into a home run, and you still couldn’t become major leaguers.”

It was a cold fact.

To get called up to the majors, you basically had to be on the club’s 40-man roster, and these three weren’t even on it yet. Naturally. The 40-man roster was filled with the key pieces a club didn’t want other teams to steal, or with the kind of player who can contribute immediately. The majors didn’t have spots to spare for rough stones who’d barely graduated from Low-A.

“But it’s not just forty guys who show up to spring training. Count the non-roster invitees and it’s sixty. Sometimes as many as seventy.”

Taylor’s eyes gleamed.

“A non-roster invite. That’s what you ought to be aiming for.”

He went on.

“Of course, even if you get invited, you’ll be packing your bags and getting kicked down to minor league camp a week in. I guarantee it. A hundred percent, you’ll get cut.”

At that flat declaration, the three of them went dead quiet.

But Taylor grinned.

“Even so, that one week is going to change your baseball lives.”

Watching a legendary pitcher, the kind you’d only see on TV, throw from right behind him. Copying an MVP hitter’s routine right next to him. Just breathing that air was a huge amount of experience for a prospect, something money couldn’t buy. And if they caught the coaching staff’s eye on top of that? They’d move up faster than they could imagine.

“If you show well in the Arizona Fall League, you’ll get invited to camp for sure. So go at it like your life depends on it.”

That was all Taylor had to say.

He was a real Giving Tree. His connections, his information, his know-how—everything he had to give, he was emptying out and handing over. The reason was simple. He truly wanted these three to make it.

They’d made the dream of one team come true, the dream Taylor had forgotten he ever had. They’d rekindled the passion that had died in him.

More than anything, once they left, he might never see them again. They were going to move up, and he’d stay here and wait for the next batch of rough stones. This might be goodbye.

So, like a parent sending his kids off to live far from home, Taylor wanted to pack them one more lunch, slip them a little more spending money—whatever he could.

No…

To be honest, calling himself their parent didn’t quite cover it. He’d gotten something from them, too—pride, a gift he wouldn’t trade for anything. It was closer to the truth to call them comrades who shared the same goal.

“All right, get out of here. I’m tired.”

Taylor waved them off and leaned back in his chair. It was his way of hiding how embarrassed he felt.

The three players got up and answered loud and clear.

“Thank you for everything, sir!”

Mark and Cash went out the door first. Suho, the last one out, stopped. He turned around and bowed deeply to Taylor once more.

“Sir. Thank you, really. I’ll never forget it.”

Taylor knew how much Suho meant it, and that was exactly why he answered with put-on gruffness.

“Hurry up and go pack.”

But the smile on Taylor’s face didn’t fade, right up to the moment the door closed.

End of Chapter 41