Paul, the Dodgers scout, propped his chin on his hand and watched the field. He was smiling, interested.

The reason he'd been sent here was simple: to sort the jewels from the stones that would carry the future of a giant organization like the Dodgers. One line in his report and a man got invited to spring training, or packed his bags.

Figures. I had it right.

What caught Paul's attention wasn't the result, a two-RBI triple. It was the process.

Team play, of all things.

Not that the majors don't have team play. Hit-and-runs, sacrifice bunts, a productive out to move a runner over—things you naturally do to win.

But this was a different stage. The AFL. A showcase where prospects are evaluated strictly as individuals. Hitters take big swings to show off the power they have; pitchers throw hard enough to rip their arms off to prove their velocity. A place where one line of your own stat sheet is worth more than a team win.

That's how it works here.

And these guys had broken that unwritten rule and moved strictly for the team.

That's worth a high mark.

Because baseball is a sport of flow. The ability to cut off that flow when the other pitcher has it all going his way. And then the process of grinding out a result, an actual run.

Scouts aren't idiots. They don't just count home runs; whether a player knows how to win matters too. Showing a way of winning even here, where winning and losing don't matter—that was a bigger plus than any home run.

Paul's eyes went to Suho standing on third base.

And that kid really stands out.

In baseball, standing out is the highest compliment. It means you aren't buried among other men who are overflowing with talent.

He's probably the one who moved the other two.

Paul hadn't heard the conversation in the dugout. But he could tell instinctively that Suho was the one who'd designed this scoring situation.

Because he proved it with the play.

A surprise fake bunt at the plate. On…