Craaack.

Knowing instinctively it was gone, Suho started around the bases at an easy pace.

With every step he took he felt the air change.

The space that had been dead silent filled with murmuring and exclamations.

That felt good.

Elation boiled up from somewhere deep in his chest.

How long had it been since he felt anything like this?

This was not somebody else’s method, forced onto a body it didn’t fit.

It was the product of trusting himself and swinging.

Suho pressed the feeling down and steadied himself.

Being released by his KBO club. All those moments when everyone told him it was over.

A thrilling sensation ran through his whole body, as though every one of those grievances had been cleared out with a single swing.

This was a result he could only have obtained by refusing to give up.

When he touched home, Mark came up to meet him at the plate with a fist out.

He’d been too restless to stay put.

“Insane! That was gone the moment you hit it!”

“Thanks. Go get one yourself.”

Mark snorted as though it were a foregone conclusion.

“You already left the pitcher half dead. It’s nothing.”

That was when it happened.

Kevin, the Dodgers farm director, waved to Suho from the dugout.

“Come over here a moment!”

Suho ducked his head willingly and went to him.

Kevin made him an offer.

“I think that’ll do for today.”

Today was the day of the test and the last of it.

The game wasn’t even over, and he was being told to stop here.

For a man who already had a triple and a home run, it was plainly a positive sign.

Suho nodded.

“Yes. Understood. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. Go rest in the dugout.”

Suho sat on the dugout bench and took off his helmet.

As the heart that had been hammering on adrenaline settled a little.

A cold reason lifted its head above the heat of the elation.

Kevin’s words sounded like an obvious signal that he’d passed.

But was that really so?

No. Don’t fool yourself.

Today’s test had been nothing more than a chance to prove whether the potential the KBO had declared finished.

Was qualified to stand on this stage at all.

Suho leaned back deep against the bench.

The hot California sun and the ragged breathing of other prospects who had staked everything on this added to the reality of it.

This was not a place where sympathy or pity got a word in.

Ability was the only certificate that counted.

Which meant he couldn’t relax.

Still, I showed them everything I had. If I’m not chosen even so, it means my baseball ends here.

But.

He had no regrets.

It was different from the past, where he had done nothing but regret since turning pro.

So he could accept any outcome now with composure.

Then came Mark’s at-bat.

He hit a home run off the rattled pitcher.

And for Mark too, that turned out to be his final at-bat.

Coming back to the dugout, Mark held out a fist to Suho again.

“If you want my guarantee—”

Tap.

Suho touched the fist and cut in quickly.

“No. Don’t. You’ll jinx it.”

“Too bad. I’m saying it. I don’t know how the other players will look later, and I don’t know how many spots there are… but at minimum, if we don’t pass, then nobody passes.”

It was true enough.

A crowd of players might pass today’s test, or not one of them might.

But Mark was saying they had earned the right to feel proud.

Because nobody was going to put up better numbers than Suho had.

A meeting room inside the Dodgers’ Glendale training complex.

Behind the heavy door, Kevin the farm director, Frank Lambert, the minor league coaching staff, and the analytics people sat around a round table.

The table was covered with reports and analysis data on the prospects who had tested today.

Tension hung in the room.

Inevitably so — this was where a player’s future got decided.

Kevin opened.

“Right, let’s start wrapping this up. There are exactly two players worth taking this time. Mark Williams first.”

At the name, Frank Lambert’s assistant Alan Powell put the report up on the screen from his tablet.

Tryout records, and today’s defense and throwing.

And the hitting data, laid out clearly.

“Mark Williams. High School Invitational MVP in his high school days. Right-handed thrower and hitter, first base. Two hits today including a home run, converting both of his opportunities.”

One of the minor league coaches praised the performance.

“The potential on this one is certain, at least.”

Kevin looked at Frank Lambert.

“Frank. Without the injury history this player was a lock for a first-round pick. And you graded him high on the scouting report. Has anything changed after today’s test?”

Frank shook his head.

“I still believe Mark has power and hitting potential among the best you’ll find in Major League Baseball. There’s risk remaining, though.”

His eyes went to the injury history on the screen.

The elbow ligament injury just before he graduated high school.

Recovery after surgery had been uncertain at the time, and it had cost him a place in the draft.

Frank continued.

“Mark’s elbow is currently cleared, but faint traces remain on the MRI, and he carries the latent risk of it becoming a problem again at any time.”

Which meant a danger like a time bomb that could go off whenever.

One of the minor league coaches raised a concern.

“Honestly, that risk is why he wasn’t drafted. However good the potential, a recurrence would be an enormous loss for the organization.”

Frank nodded slowly.

“An injury can always recur. There’s no such thing as a full cure. Except — this isn’t the draft. And being able to sign him cheaply looks to me like an advantage worth having.”

Kevin nodded in agreement.

“Certainly. In a draft we wouldn’t have looked twice, but this is a club test. And the Dodgers’ medical facilities are outstanding in themselves, so I think he’s well worth developing. How does everyone feel?”

Everyone nodded.

There was no arguing with it.

With Mark, you could even be looking at low risk and high return.

“Then we contact Mark separately and draw up a contract. And next… Suho Oh.”

At the name, the mood in the room turned serious again.

“What this player showed us at the test today was frankly shocking.”

One of the minor league coaches let out an exclamation.

“It was. The athleticism itself is astonishing to begin with. The instincts and explosiveness to turn a double into a triple would rank among the best in the majors. That kind of speed out of a frame that small is natural talent, plain and simple.”

Another scout added to it.

“The same goes for the defense! Shortstop, second base, even the outfield. Being able to cover the whole of what we call up the middle, the spine of a defense, is an enormous asset. That kind of super-utility resource is uncommon even in the majors.”

Up the middle.

Second base, shortstop, and center field.

Balls go to those positions most often, so they carry the heaviest defensive burden.

“A resource who can genuinely play super-utility isn’t common in the majors either.”

The analyst swiped his tablet as he spoke.

“The data is astonishing as well. The 20 hit tool on the report looks foolish next to today — both batted balls came in over 100 miles an hour. Judging on today’s test alone, he’s flawless.”

Kevin gathered the opinions together.

“So everyone sees a player worth developing. And the reason nobody’s arguing for him forcefully would be his age.”

Everyone nodded.

Entering the minors at twenty-four.

Late, and far too late at that.

And yet here he was under discussion.

And one of the final two, no less.

He had shown his potential beyond any question.

Kevin glanced at Frank.

Frank simply nodded.

Understanding what it meant, Kevin smiled faintly.

“The risk we take on in signing this player is zero. But if his potential breaks open, what we stand to gain is close to infinite.”

He went on.

“His age is certainly a concern… but I think he has enough possibility to tear the minors apart and go straight to the majors. What he already has is simply too good, isn’t it?”

Nobody contradicted him.

Inevitably not.

What Major League Baseball cares about most is tools.

The five tools, precisely.

Hitting for average, power, speed, fielding, and arm.

The five categories entered on a scouting report.

In the majors the general practice is to watch a player who has two or three of them for certain.

But which tools matter.

Contact, power, or speed — the evaluation shifts accordingly.

Suho was different.

The Suho they had watched today made the question of which tools he had irrelevant.

Because he appeared to have all five.

A five-tool player.

“And today Suho showed us every one of those possibilities.”

So from the Dodgers’ standpoint, missing this player now would be an act of considerable stupidity.

“If his age means he can’t show us something brilliant quickly, a release becomes unavoidable, of course. But even that isn’t a loss for us.”

A knowing smile came to the corner of Kevin’s mouth.

“Consider the reverse, though. If we take in a stone like this and fail to make a diamond of it, that isn’t the player’s problem. It’s the failure of our system, and proof of the incompetence of every one of us sitting here. I have no intention of proving my own incompetence. How about the rest of you?”

Nobody argued.

And an absence of argument was agreement.

“Good. We’ll end the discussion there. Contact Mark and Suho immediately and let’s move on the contracts.”

End of Chapter 16