Chapter 19
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 19
Chapter Title: First Interview
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"Hello! Ji Maeng-ho!"
A plainly beautiful woman approached and spoke to him. Was this the reporter he'd been in touch with?
"Yes. Hello."
"I'm Kim Ji-yeon from Art Sports, as I mentioned."
The day after the finals. She'd quickly requested an interview, and the coach had gladly accepted. He'd had sex with Hye-jin until morning, but this was a breeze.
Kim Ji-yeon, who looked to be in her late twenties, offered a warm smile and shook his hand. He gripped her soft hand in return and shook it. Pretty soft? Must be the reporter thing. Plus, her warm smile suited her plain but pretty face perfectly.
Today was his first real interview in life. He'd even put wax in his hair for the photos. He'd done post-game interviews after the finals, but having a reporter come specifically to cover him was a first. So he'd prepared a lot...
'Idiot, of course baseball players wear caps for interviews.'
'...First time, so I didn't know.'
'Your intelligence is pathetic. Pathetic.'
Everything was perfect except for the waxed hair hidden under the cap.
"Kim, long time no see. Doing well?"
Oh, one more thing. It was perfect minus Coach Lee Ki-cheol. The coach's face was covered in stubble, and he reeked of booze. Just like Hye-jin said—he hadn't gone home and had been drinking with the coaches all day yesterday.
Well, thanks to that, he'd gotten to spend the whole night with Hye-jin until morning, so it worked out for him.
"Ah, Coach. Long time no see. Same old for me, chasing stories. But congrats on the win. Hanchego's first championship in baseball team history, right?"
"Yeah, thanks. This kid's my favorite player, so write a nice article. Got it?"
Favorite player my ass. The guy who barely acknowledged him! He wanted to shove a bat up his brain. But since he might end up raising the coach's kid someday, he'd let it slide.
"Of course. Thanks for the interview permission."
"Sure. Let's grab a bite later."
"Yes, sir. Head on in."
As the coach left, Kim Ji-yeon turned her eyes back to him.
"Ah, Maeng-ho. Mind if we take photos first?"
"Oh, sure thing."
At his words, Kim grabbed the camera from around her neck and posed up. He awkwardly raised a hand in a fighting pose.
"Ooh, nice pose. Here we go."
Click, click, click. Flashes popped and shutter sounds rang out in succession. What, done already? As that thought crossed his mind, Kim came closer with the camera. Ah, perfume. A fresh scent that matched her looks.
"Got some great shots? The subject's good, huh? You photograph so well."
"Oh, really?"
"Totally. First glance, I thought you were a model. Tall frame, handsome face. I swore you were an idol! The high school heartthrob baseball star who exploded onto the scene! Man, I begged the section chief to let me cover you... Ah! Sorry. I talk too much when I get excited. My bad."
"...It's fine."
That was a storm of words. Didn't match her plain beauty at all. Kinda... a lot.
"Ah, shall we sit and get started?"
Kim took his hand and led him to the bench. Once seated, she pulled a cool sports drink from her handbag and handed it over.
"No soda for athletes, so I got an electrolyte drink. Drink up. Oh, you do drink these, right? High schoolers are picky these days too. Ah! Not dissing you as a high schooler. Just saying start managing yourself from high school. Crucial for pros."
"Ahaha, y-yeah?"
Her rapid-fire chatter left him reeling.
'Rogers, is this how interviews usually go? Rogers? Rogers? Where'd that guy go?'
He'd tried asking Rogers for advice, but the ghost had bailed, probably overwhelmed. The guy who couldn't resist women had fled...
"Why the looking around? Uncomfortable here? Benches kinda suck, huh? Ahaha. But for a baseball player, interviewing where you can see the field is nice, right? Or are you an I type who prefers indoors? Ah, I for MBTI. You done MBTI, Maeng-ho?"
"...No."
He hadn't, but he knew what MBTI was. I meant introvert, homebody type. What did that have to do with indoor interviews?
"Try it sometime. Hits scarily accurate. What do you think I am? Oh, right, you haven't. Look it up later. Fun time-killer. Wait, athletes can't waste time. Training's endless. Sorry. Pointless chatter."
His good first impression soured after five minutes. He just wanted this over...
"...S-so, when do we start the interview?"
"Ah, look at me. Sorry. Let's dive in? First, thoughts on the win?"
"Feels amazing. Still like a dream. Me, who couldn't even play, becoming the team's core and winning it all. Unreal."
Truth be told, no big emotions. But the scouts watching was nice.
"I bet. Totally."
"Aren't you gonna take notes?"
"Ah, we record everything now. No need. Short article anyway, not much content. Some old-timers still jot with pencil, though. Kinda outdated. But they feel more at ease that way..."
"Sorry. Shouldn't have brought up what I don't know."
"Ahaha. No worries. Where were we?"
"Win thoughts."
"Right. Next question... You repeated a year, right?"
"Yes. Big accident in first year, needed surgery. Coach said take a year off then."
"Got it. Body all good now?"
"Yeah. Surgeries in a few spots, but no issues for baseball."
"Glad to hear. But that accident... sadly took your parents..."
This woman, reporter perks? She knew everything.
"Yes. Feel a bit guilty surviving alone, but they're watching from heaven while I grind baseball. I'm good."
"You're so strong, Maeng-ho. They'd be proud up there."
Yeah. With ghost Rogers around, souls exist. Always watching. ...Probably just during games. Family respects privacy. ...Right?
"Next question. No play in first two years, how'd you shine in third?"
"Skill gap, probably. Was shortstop, but defense sucked, no starts. Switched to second base, defense clicked, bat followed. Haha, weight training during downtime helped hitting too? Secret? Something like that."
"Mm, mm. Makes sense. You're tall for an infielder—center infield, right? No defense issues?"
"Nah. Got a good build, agile by nature. And MLB has bigger shortstops and second basemen."
"True. Your speed to first was nuts too."
"Timed at school: 3.95 to 4.05 seconds."
"Whoa, righty and that fast? Talent born, huh? Ever think of switching positions to focus on hitting?"
"Nope. Love second. Feels like my calling. Dream's MLB's top second baseman."
Rogers' dream too. Rogers said he'd ascend if Maeng-ho became MLB's best at second. Living forever with that foul-mouthed ghost? No thanks—gotta do it.
"Ooh. Aiming straight for majors?"
"Ah, no. KBA first, majors if I make it. Military service, plus tons fail direct jumps."
"Gotcha. Preferred teams?"
"Nah. But first-round by a Seoul team'd be nice. Born and raised there."
Bonus: Avoid AT Thunderbirds and Hancheol Grizzlies—Jamsil's massive field hurts hitters like him. Stats penalty. Leaves one Seoul team?
"Ooh, competing with teammate Kim Won-ho then."
"Haha. Won-ho's first-round lock. Me? Gotta prove it. More grind."
"Right. No fave team?"
"Mm... Kid me cheered AT Thunderbirds. Ah, pre-draft—bad to say?"
"No! Fine. Speak freely."
"Dad was a fan. Most Seoul baseball dads his age were. AT was good then. Went to games with him, became one naturally. But high school training killed pro-watching time. Haven't followed in ages. Haha."
Back then, survival left no time for games. And it was just tagging along with Dad—no deep love.
"Makes sense. AT started hot this season but no playoffs in... years? 2022 now... 20 years out."
Decisively, AT sucked at baseball. No playoffs since his 2003 birth. Top avoidance now. No FA imports for growth, starter iron rice bowls, hitter-killing Jamsil home. Plenty reasons.
Hancheol Grizzlies, same Jamsil, perform well, promote prospects, but parent company woes mean no internal FA unless core hitter. Silla Triggers, last Seoul team, sends tons to MLB, famed for development. Ideal landing spot.
"Hope you get drafted by childhood fave AT and lead them, Maeng-ho."
"Ah, ahaha. Yeah? Be nice."
She meant well, but that was cursing him. AT's other nickname: Graveyard of Power-Hitting Prospects. Total mismatch for a power prospect like him. Pure curse.
Her eyes seemed innocent, though. Forgiven.
"Switching topics?"
"Yes."
"Few questions left—almost done! Let's power through."
Finally over. As the reporter left, hiding Rogers reappeared.
'That woman talks way too much.'
'Not into chatty girls?'
'Wet girls, yes. Real women keep the top mouth shut, bottom wide.'
'Sure you aren't. Anyway, how was the interview?'
'Too vanilla?'
'High schooler now. Gotta play smart pre-pro.'
'Dumbass. Build image now, scandals slide later.'
'Still, high schooler.'
Mid-chat with Rogers, a sharp voice called.
"Hey! Ji Maeng-ho. Looked cozy."
Hyun-ah. Weirdly not in her usual gym clothes—civilian outfit. Flowy tennis skirt, crop top flashing tight abs, light cardigan. Tall but suited her face and figure perfectly.
"Huh? What's up. Came all the way?"
"Ignore my texts, chat her up fine?"
"What? Jealous?"
"Fuck off!"
Hyun-ah flipped him the bird.
"Use your mouth then."
"W-what?!"
She glanced around, checking for people. Near month apart, same old.
"So, what's the occasion? No training today, Won-ho's out too."
"'Cause you ghosted post-that! Tell me when you're free."
"Me? Today works, no training."
"Perfect. Strike while iron hot. Now. Can't stand the wait."
Look at her. Starved? Arms crossed, haughty glare. To him, screamed "gimme cum quick"—adorable.
"Sure. Goin'. Uniform, so changing quick."
"Front gate. Hurry."
Bon appétit again...!