Trash Reporter?
As Seoul Jeon-san High School's offense wound down, I stopped throwing and headed over to Kim Na-seong, our second-year catcher.
"Na-seong, for this inning, I don't wanna do the runaway pitching style."
"Huh? Why? Aren't you the type who racks up strikeouts like that?"
I shook my head.
"Nah, I wanna try cutting down the pitch count. Induce ground balls this time."
Kim Na-seong thought for a moment before hitting me with a practical question.
"That means you might have to throw breaking balls into hittable spots. You cool with that?"
I glanced at the opposing fielders.
"Yeah. Looking at the Heungjin High batters, they don't seem that high-level. If I throw too well, they might not even make contact. Feels like hittable pitches would get more grounders."
Kim Na-seong nodded at that.
"Fair enough... We're not some powerhouse ourselves, but we're still fourth or fifth in the region. Those guys are dead last."
He added, like he was confirming signs,
"So, mostly sinkers or sliders that tail in a bit?"
I nodded without a word.
The offense ended, and it was time to take the field. I headed straight to the mound, and Kim Na-seong went to home plate.
The leadoff hitter was a lefty. Kim Na-seong called for a sinker diving into the inner half of the strike zone. I fired it.
Shiiiiek—
The ball looked like it would cut through the heart of the zone before diving low and away to the right side. The batter swung at the dropping pitch.
Tick!
The mishit grounder rolled toward shortstop. The shortstop scooped it up easily and threw to first—first out.
The next batter was similar. Another lefty. Same pattern: sinker. It looked too fat down the middle to him, so the bat came out again. Another grounder, rolling to short. Same result—shortstop to first.
Two pitches, two outs.
For the right-handed cleanup hitter, the sign was a slider. I threw one starting middle and breaking away just a bit. He couldn't time it and whiffed.
Ah... so close. Couldn't get it...
I caught the ball from Kim Na-seong with a disappointed look.
Alright then...
Four-Seam Fastball
Good, no way they miss this one, right?
I fired it to the outer half.
Thwack!
This time, the batter made contact. The righty pushed it, bouncing once in front of second. Our third-year second baseman flinched and bobbled it, but there was plenty of time to recover and throw to first.
Four pitches to erase the inning.
"Knew there had to be something to it."
Sports reporter Yoo Myeong-han, who'd visited Seoul Jeon-san High School before, muttered to himself while staring at his laptop screen.
The words from the Suseok High coach's interview lingered in his mind, so he'd kept digging.
'Our closer was like Maddox.'
Overkill for a high school pitcher. And Suseok's Coach Kim Ik-hyeon wasn't one for empty praise, so this had to be special.
At first, he figured it was some sudden breakout star—no high school records. But digging into middle school tournament rosters turned up a familiar name. Puzzle solved.
Kim Jeong-ui was the son of major leaguer Kim Jeong-seok, winner of two championships.
The name of that era-defining underhand ace clicked into place. The reporter nodded.
"Yeah, with blood like that."
Debut with 6K. Sure, ERA started at 9 from rust, but now it was down to 1.5. If he covered high school or middle school ball full-time, he'd have spotted it sooner—but better late than never.
He checked Jeon-san High's schedule. Game today at Mokdong Stadium. Off he went.
Perfect timing on arrival: Kim Jeong-ui taking the mound. Reporter flipped open his notebook.
Kim Jeong-ui was merciless. Batters grounded out left and right. Two innings on just 10 pitches.
No strikeout show, but enough to confirm the talent live.
Post-game, he headed to the field. There was the Jeon-san coach chatting briefly with Kim Jeong-ui and the catcher.
Hmm... let's see what this kid's about.
He approached with a smile and greeting.
"Great game, coach."
Huh?
I froze for a second at the approaching guy. Not that I didn't know who he was, but who shows up here?
We were getting feedback from the coach on the game when this uninvited guest crashed the party.
The coach reacted first.
"Ah! The reporter from before. What brings you?"
Ah... a reporter?
Sports reporter Yoo Myeong-han smiled smoothly.
"Yeah, gave you my card last time, right? Came to see Jeon-san High play. They looked great out there."
He'd only caught two innings, but with the blowout score, it was easy to bluff.
"Eh, decent opponent today, so no sweat."
The coach laughed it off with a wave.
The reporter's expression shifted subtly. Smile stayed, but eyes sharpened.
"But still..."
Like he'd been played.
"Why didn't you mention it last time? Had no idea Jeon-san had a guy like this."
The coach played it cool.
"All our players are amazing."
The reporter smirked and shook his head, then slowly turned to me.
Huh?
"Come on, not like this one. Son of major leaguer Kim Jeong-seok, right?"
What...?
"Huh?"
Kim Na-seong looked shocked.
This feels off.
Something twisted uncomfortably in my gut. Hard to pin down, but it felt wrong.
"Kim Jeong-ui, impressive stuff. Records show you took a year off but jumped right back in. Bloodlines really are everything, huh?"
Praise, but it tasted sour. Unease and irritation bubbled up together.
Huh... bloodline power?
Not wrong. Genetics might explain my underhand control.
But...
I didn't wanna feed into that.
"Nah. It's just me being good."
The reporter's eyes widened briefly, then he grinned like it was fascinating.
"Oh~ Not the bloodline, your own talent?"
"Yeah. I shut down two scoreless myself today."
He nodded, intrigued.
"Sure, sure. But weren't you born on third base?"
There it is. Rude asshole confirmed.
That old American football coach's line: some folks think they hit a triple when they were born on third.
But...
I wasn't owning that.
People like this need a guitar to the head.
"Me?"
I took a breath, stared him down, and said,
"I was born on home plate."
He raised his hands in mock surprise.
"Whoa, don't say it like that."
Then back to reporter-speak.
"You've gotten a lot of 'consideration' thanks to the Kim Jeong-seok name, right? Even here in the club? Not easy for a second-year to get the ball."
I didn't smile. Spoke crystal clear.
"First off, I never said I haven't gotten any consideration."
His eyebrow twitched up.
"And yeah, home plate. 'Cause my dad was so damn good, it wasn't a triple—it was a homer. Don't downplay his achievements."
"Hahaha, that's a good one. I'll take it back."
Yoo Myeong-han seemed impressed.
"And... a famous dad's a mixed bag for athletes. The fame cuts both ways—big pressure too. I get it."
"..."
"But I came back to baseball 'cause the Jeon-san club was on the verge of disbanding from lack of numbers. Consideration? Sure—I'm the guy saving it."
I glared, face twisted.
"I quit thinking I had no talent compared to Dad. Now I'm showing a sliver of it. Might even win it all. That's why I'm grinding again. So..."
"So?"
"If you're gonna keep bullshitting, quit swinging at shadows and fuck off."
The reporter burst out laughing.
"Man... talks better than his old man, but same temper."
He turned to the coach.
"Congrats, coach. This'll get you a title. Pitchers gotta have that fire."
...What?
"Haha, yeah. Looking forward to it."
"Seemed like you were hiding him from the buzz... I won't write the article, but if you win it all, exclusive interview with me."
"Deal."
...Wait, why are you two deciding that?