Chapter 38
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 38
Chapter Title: Do Pros All Train Like This?
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"Huff, huff."
"14 minutes 46 seconds."
"Huff, huff. How's that? Pretty good, right?"
"You'll need to work a bit harder. It's decent for a high schooler, though."
Huff, huff. Even at our school, that put me in the top ranks. But her cool expression made it hard to argue back. Are real pros really on another level?
My initial 4km run had clocked in under 15 minutes, which was a solid time.
"Alright, warming up's done nice and simple. Shall we move on to the next test?"
"There's more?"
"I told you. This is a full stamina check. You didn't think it'd just be running, did you?"
"Can't I rest a little first?"
"These are actual pro team tests. You can't be collapsing like this."
Shit.
"Next up is the side-step shuttle run. You know what that is, right?"
Of course. I'd done it in school. Was that the agility test?
"...How many more are left?"
"I'm thinking flexibility and shuttle run to wrap it up."
"...Today wasn't supposed to be cardio day..."
"Wouldn't it be good to get a stamina test in before joining the pros?"
Shit, I stepped in it. I just came to swing the bat a few times!
*
His physicals really are monstrous.
Flexibility was a tad low, but overall, the results weren't bad. First 4km long run: 14 minutes 46 seconds—barely any first-team pros could match that.
Shuttle run: 136 reps. Side-step shuttle: 80 in two minutes. Pure athletic ability put him in the elite tier across the board. Flexibility was the only weak spot.
But something nagged at So-young. His stamina was great, but... the attitude during the tests rubbed her the wrong way?
Am I turning into one of those team old-timers who buys into grit theory and intensity in the eyes?
The thought gave her chills. She despised grit theorists and eye-intensity believers the most.
Am I being biased? Even with these good results, am I not seeing them straight?
"Do real pros really train like this? I feel like I'm dying..."
"Not every day, but stamina tests are like this."
It was true. Spring camp prep tests evaluated players this way. Of course, even pros gasped for air like Maeng-ho afterward.
"Haa, haa. For sure?"
"Yes. Teams won't take players who fail stamina tests to spring camp. Player Maeng-ho, you'll need to push more at this rate, won't you? It'd be embarrassing for a first-round pick to get cut from camp."
The numbers were good, but praising him now would make him complacent—she could see it.
The results are solid, but I can't let Ji Maeng-ho settle for this.
"So, we're done for today, right?"
"No. Tests are tests, training is training. You still need batting practice before you go. Pros endure way more stamina strain than you can imagine. It's comparable to what daily game players go through—like what you're feeling now."
"Ha, what kind of monsters are pros? Swing a bat in this state?"
If Maeng-ho could ask Rogers Hornsby, he'd know So-young was fibbing. Sadly, Rogers was absent. Pros got a full rest day after tests.
But So-young wanted to see Maeng-ho's performance when gassed. Pro baseball demanded endurance for 144 games a year. How he held up fatigued mattered a lot.
"If you can't, no choice. But as AT Thunderbirds operations chief, I'll have to report it."
At her words, Maeng-ho—spread-eagled on the floor—pushed up with his hands. Actually, it wasn't her words. It was her eyes, looking at him pitifully.
Her face was naturally expressionless, so it wasn't intentional, but to Maeng-ho, it felt that way.
Shit, can't lose face in front of a girl. Can't stay down like this.
Calming his shaky hands, Maeng-ho grabbed his bat. Holding it brought some peace.
"Looks like you've rested enough. Head to the batting cages?"
"Heh, young bodies recover fast. First-round pick vibes?"
Her words bloomed a smile on Maeng-ho's face.
So cute, dragging himself up despite being half-dead. Wait!
A thought flashed through So-young's mind. That stubborn male posturing, plus the Insta thirst traps—putting them together sparked an idea.
Is he doing this because I'm here?
Watching Maeng-ho pant while striking what he thought was a cool pose turned suspicion to certainty.
"Shall we go? Ha, ha, ha."
"Sure."
He could grow more. Better than those guys who dismiss him for being a girl. And that obviousness is kinda cute.
So-young smirked inwardly at Maeng-ho staggering ahead on wobbly legs. Pushing his limits despite her excessive demands wasn't bad.
Maybe he's a better prospect than I thought. I'll send today's results and have them tailor an optimal program for his condition.
*
Stamina's in the tank. And I didn't even smoke...
His hands shook, sending the bat flying toward the netted area.
"Why'd I waste time like this..."
Fun times with Hye-jin noona and Hyun-ah flashed by. ...Not a waste after all?
"Tough, huh?"
As he mimicked a cartoon line from childhood, lost in silly thoughts, Cheon So-young approached slowly from watching my swings.
"Ha, sorry. Bat slipped. Got any spray?"
"No, from what I saw, better call it here for today."
Do real pros do these tests then swing? Hands are trembling. But showing weakness to a girl was embarrassing, so I hid the shakes and spoke.
"I can do more."
"It's fine. I've seen enough."
Cheon So-young's eyes were cold.
"Disappointed...?"
She'd pushed for my draft—felt a bit guilty. Had I slacked on training lately?
"No, not disappointed. But training—you know overdoing it isn't good? That's why I'm saying this."
"Ha, ha. I'm not usually this gassed. Weird today. Ha, ha, ha."
Face heating up. Felt exposed without makeup. Rogers would've cracked a joke to lighten the mood, but his absence stung now.
This girl's too tough.
Not to badmouth, but most girls approached me warmly. Hyun-ah aside. Well, even she was friendly at first.
Anyway, I figured I was decent-looking with good build—not used to cold stares from women. Baseball life meant little girl contact till Rogers opened that door.
In short, dealing with girls without Rogers was tricky?
Without him, facing her drags me back to my old self...
Back to batting practice pitcher days when my confidence hit rock bottom. Her icy gaze chipped away at it like then.
"Alright, as you say—wrapping up today."
Concentration was shot anyway, and it felt overdone. Better not risk injury.
"Player Maeng-ho, based on the last medical and today's stamina tests, mind if we manage your diet?"
"Diet management? Aren't you busy? Taking care of my meals..."
"What? Of course the team provides it. You didn't think I'd do it personally?"
Oof, her eyes went icier than before—air itself freezing. Words slipped out unfiltered at "diet management."
"Ha, ha. No, just... team’s busy..."
Awkward laugh to cover.
"I'll ask Coach at Hanchego about your current meals and provide lunch and dinner. Weight loss worries me. Training aside, we'll consult experts on your routine too. Okay?"
"Ah, sounds good. I'm fine with it."
"And."
"And...?"
"Your overall physicals are great, but flexibility was lacking in tests."
"Ah, flexibility."
"How do you train it?"
"Just pre-workout stretches like at school...?"
"Hm... With your size and muscle mass, flexibility work is crucial. Especially as an infielder who dives a lot."
"Ah, really?"
"Yes. Like Pilates."
"Never tried Pilates."
Pilates—that's for girls, right?
"Your face says you're not thrilled."
That obvious?
"I get it. Still seen as women's body-sculpting. But many teams make it mandatory. AT does too."
"Ah, okay."
"Tuesdays and Thursdays: morning training here. Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays: Pilates."
"Got it. Uh... where? Don't know any places."
"Team instructor's center. I'll set it up."
"Ah, thanks."
"No biggie. First-round pick and all. Like I said, big expectations—from the team and me personally."
"Today's not shattered them?"
"No."
"Your expression's so cold, got me a bit scared."
"Oops. My face is just like this—no worries."
Prettier when she smiled faintly or looked wistful. As I pondered silently, she spoke first.
"So, that schedule till pre-camp. Except tournament days. Wish I could bench you then too, but no."
"School'd fight it, probably."
"Yeah. Not a pitcher."
"Got it. I'll follow your plan, Chief. Gonna shower."
Pilates seemed pointless, but first-round perks weren't bad. Diet, routine—shows how much AT Thunderbirds values me.
Though cash over schedules would be nicer.