Diamond Girls

Another month went by.

My daily routine settled into a relentless rhythm: attend school, work out, come home, and collapse straight into bed. There were even nights when I turned off the bedroom lights to secretly analyze video footage we had recorded earlier that day, only to have my smartphone promptly confiscated by my mother.

"Watch it tomorrow. The video isn't going anywhere."

"I just wanted to check one more clip."

"You said that an hour ago."

...Did I?

The moment I closed my eyes, morning had arrived, and all through the day I was ravenous, as if possessed by a starving ghost. At school, I invariably went back for seconds during lunch, and before long, any leftover cartons of milk naturally found their way to my desk.

Perhaps fueled by all that nourishment, my conditioning bounced back far faster than I had anticipated.

The running course that had once reduced me to an agonizing, half-walking trudge became something I could sprint from start to finish. Even after wrapping up a grueling session, charging up flights of stairs was a breeze.

Stepping out of the shower, the reflection in the mirror was still slender and delicate, yet lean, athletic lines were steadily carving themselves into my frame.

Now I'm actually starting to look like an athlete.

At the pitching tunnel ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I visited with Dad every weekend, I continued to throw nothing but four-seam fastballs.

Pop!

"Nice! Now right here."

Pop!

My velocity and heavy life were still far from where I wanted them, but having fully adapted to this body's center of gravity, my control was remarkably sharp.

Pinpoint command had been my greatest weapon in my previous life, so in a way, it was only natural.

And with things progressing so smoothly, Dad had lately taken to muttering a different phrase far more often than praising my pitches.

"Ah, just missed."

He would say it while digging the ball out of his mitt, having shifted his glove barely an inch or two from its original target.

When we first started, he was over the moon no matter where the ball landed.

It seemed his standards were creeping up as well.

It was a quiet morning before the takeout orders started rolling in.

Park Seon-yeong was straightening receipts by the chicken shop register when her smartphone chimed. She checked the screen.

A familiar name flashed before her eyes.

Writer Jeong Su-yeon.

It was someone she had crossed paths with multiple times back when ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠her daughter, Seo-jin, appeared on variety shows as a child actress. They had kept in touch occasionally even after the program wrapped, but quite a long time had passed since their last phone call.

"Hello, Writer Jeong. Good to hear from you."

"Mother, how have you been? Is this a good time to talk?"

At the warm greeting, Seon-yeong's tone brightened a touch.

They traded brief pleasantries about running the fried chicken shop and everyday life before the conversation naturally drifted to Seo-jin.

"She's in high school already? The last time I saw her, she was still toting around coloring books."

"Tell me about it. Time really flies."

"How is Seo-jin doing these days? Is she active in the industry at all?"

Seon-yeong's fingers paused over the stack of receipts.

"She's taking a break right now. Just focusing on school."

"Ah... I see. The truth is, I'm joining a new program, and Seo-jin immediately came to mind, so I wanted to reach out."

After a brief hesitation, Seon-yeong answered carefully.

"Thank you for keeping her in mind, but she isn't planning on taking any acting roles for the time being."

"Oh no, it's not a drama. Have you heard of a show called Diamond Girls? Season one aired about half a year ago."

Hearing the title, Seon-yeong searched her memory and recalled it.

It was a variety program her husband frequently had on at home—the one where retired female athletes from various sports gathered to build an amateur baseball team.

"Yes. My husband really enjoyed watching that."

"Haha, I'm glad to hear that! Well, we're currently gearing up for Season 2. We're holding a tryout very soon to recruit new members, and we were hoping Seo-jin might come out and participate."

"Our Seo-jin? On that show?"

"Yes. Wouldn't the viewers be thrilled to see her again? And if Seo-jin happens to have an interest in baseball, all the better."

Seon-yeong glanced toward the kitchen.

Her husband was standing before the prep counter, diligently trimming raw chicken.

"As a matter of fact, she's actually been playing some baseball with her father lately."

"Really?"

The voice on the other end of the line turned notably animated.

"She only started recently. Her father used to be a ballplayer in his younger days. The two of them go out to play catch and visit indoor cages together."

"My goodness, her father was a baseball player?"

The writer probed with a few more eager questions.

Seon-yeong answered what she knew before steering the conversation back to the reality of Seo-jin's participation.

"Still, wouldn't doing this require continuous filming? The child attends school, and I don't believe she's ready to jump back into entertainment full-time."

"What we're proposing right now is just a single day of shooting for the tryout. Whether she actually joins the team will be decided by the manager after the evaluation. If she is selected, we can discuss the upcoming schedule and future appearances then."

"Ah, so just one day for now..."

"Yes. That's why there's no need to commit to a regular spot right from the start. If you're open to it, could you talk it over with Seo-jin?"

Seon-yeong looked up at the wall calendar.

The tryout shoot Writer Jeong mentioned was this coming Saturday.

In the past, she wouldn't have even glanced at the calendar before calling out to Seo-jin. Back then, simply hearing that a broadcast network had called would have had the girl sprinting out of her bedroom barefoot.

Nowadays, however, what her daughter pulled out of her backpack wasn't a script, but a baseball glove.

And whenever she returned home late at night alongside her husband, her face was always radiant with genuine joy.

What should I do...?

Still, it was related to baseball, the one thing her daughter was head-over-heels in love with these days. There was no harm in asking.

"I'll ask her. I can't make any promises, though."

"Of course! Take your time discussing it and feel free to reach out. I'll send over a text with the details."

The moment the call ended, Han Seong-ho poked his head out from behind the kitchen prep counter.

"Who was that?"

"A writer I used to know. She asked if Seo-jin would be interested in appearing on TV."

Seong-ho's expression stiffened slightly.

Seon-yeong held up her phone.

"You know that baseball variety show you've been watching?"

"...Diamond Girls?"

"Yeah. Apparently they're shooting Season 2, and they're holding tryouts for new members."

"They want our Seo-jin on that?"

"They're not just picking her outright; it's a tryout first..."

Fwhooosh!

Seong-ho immediately cranked the tap wide open and began scrubbing his hands with vigorous urgency.

"They're paying an appearance fee too?"

Mom nodded at my question.

"Yes. If you're interested, I can talk to them about the exact terms."

I reread the text message Mom showed me.

Play baseball and get paid for it.

I quite liked the sound of that.

Coincidentally, something had been weighing on my mind lately.

Dad had been coming home early from the shop more frequently than before. Whenever I asked, he would brush it off by claiming business was slow or that he had run out of prepped chicken.

Yet funnily enough, those days always happened to coincide with the days I was scheduled to throw off the mound.

The lane rental fees at the training facility and the workout gear I had ordered for home conditioning were also weighing on my conscience.

Those expenses were beginning to feel like an encroaching burden on our household, making this opportunity arrive at the perfect moment.

They said all I have to do is show up and play baseball.

Even if it was just for one day, I could pitch in and help cover my own facility fees.

"I'll do it."

"You can take more time to think about it."

"It's playing baseball. Sounds like fun."

"Still, you'll be standing in front of cameras. Are you sure you're up for that?"

"Yes."

If this had required acting, I would have been in deep trouble.

Baseball, however, was an entirely different story. Why should a few extra camera lenses stop me from doing what I had spent half my life doing? Besides, having spent years as a marquee professional athlete, I was already plenty accustomed to cameras.

"I'll really be fine."

Mom studied my face for a moment before slowly nodding.

Dad, who had been hovering nearby waiting for his chance, finally chimed in.

"You're really doing it?"

"Yes."

"Our Seo-jin's joining Diamond Girls?!"

"It's just a one-day tryout shoot, Dad."

"Same difference! How could they possibly resist picking you?"

Dad's cheekbones were already pushed up into a massive grin.

"Honey, if she shoots it, she's going to be on TV, right?"

"If she passes?"

"No, the tryout airs too! Honestly, that's the best part of the whole thing."

"Just because they film it doesn't mean it'll all make the cut..."

Mom brushed him off with an exasperated sigh, but Dad spent the rest of the evening talking non-stop about Diamond Girls.

A few days later, I spoke over the phone with my assigned writer.

She was someone different from the writer who had first contacted Mom. She introduced herself first, explaining that she was handling my preparations for the shoot.

"Hello, Seo-jin. I'm Writer Lee Ji-eun. I've heard so much about you from your mother."

"Hello."

"Do you have a moment to chat? I just wanted to ask how you've been, and how long you've been playing baseball."

The questions weren't difficult.

I attended school, played baseball with my father, and hadn't been playing for very long.

"Have you played in actual games before?"

"No."

"So you've never been part of an official team?"

"That's right."

"Is there a position you'd most like to play?"

"Pitcher."

That one I answered without a beat of hesitation.

The writer chuckled.

"Pitcher is such a cool position. Does your father teach you how to pitch?"

"Yes. We practice batting together, too."

"By any chance, do you have any videos of your practice sessions that you could send over?"

"Dad probably has some recorded."

"Wonderful. I'll let your mother know. Also, I have a few questions regarding your past activities. If there's anything uncomfortable or topics you'd prefer we didn't touch on during the broadcast, please let me know in advance."

A brief conversation followed about the commercials and projects Han Seo-jin had done in her childhood.

Fortunately, I was able to answer most of them by combing through my inherited memories. Anything fuzzy, I deflected smoothly by saying I would double-check with Mom.

Before hanging up, the writer asked one last question.

"Is there anything in particular you really want to try during this shoot?"

"I want to play an actual game in front of a crowd."

"Oh... in front of a crowd?"

"Yes. That's what makes it fun, after all."

The faint scratching sound of a pen echoed through the receiver.

"Understood. I'll pass that along as well."

Setting down my smartphone, I felt a genuine spark of anticipation.

Get paid an appearance fee and play baseball.

If part-time gigs were like this, picking one up every now and then wouldn't be half bad.

On the day of the shoot, I left home with Mom.

Dad had desperately wanted to tag along, but if both parents left, the shop would have had to close for the day. Saturday was peak business for a fried chicken restaurant, so that was completely out of the question.

"Make sure you warm up properly before throwing."

"I will."

"Nothing to be nervous about. Just do what you do with Dad."

"I'm not nervous."

"And if you get the chance to get the manager's autograph..."

Mom shoved me out the door before he could finish.

"We're off!"

An hour's drive brought us to a baseball stadium on the outskirts of town.

Several production vans were parked in the lot. People were unloading gear from trunks left popped wide open, and an informational signboard bearing the show's name stood near the stadium entrance.

When Mom placed a call, a woman wearing a lanyard pass around her neck emerged.

"Seo-jin?"

"Hello."

"I'm Writer Lee Ji-eun, who spoke with you on the phone. Thank you so much for making the trip out here."

After greeting Mom, the writer guided us inside.

A participant waiting room had been set up in an auxiliary building adjacent to the diamond. When we opened the door, the contestants who had arrived earlier turned to look.

"Hello."

As I greeted them, replies echoed from all around.

Athletes dressed in sportswear from a colorful variety of disciplines were busy warming up.

"You're Han Seo-jin, right?"

A woman standing nearby spoke to me.

"Yes."

"Wow! I'm a huge fan! You're even prettier in person! Your face is insanely small!"

"Thank you."

That was one reaction I had yet to get used to in this body.

If she had complimented my baseball skills, I could have casually played along with some sly modesty.

Fortunately, the writer handed me an outfit with my name tag attached.

"You can change into this. Here's your cap too. Once you're ready, we'll hook up your mic outside."

Mom took the uniform and inspected it thoroughly.

My eyes, however, drifted past her toward the stadium visible through the window.

The sprawling expanse of the outfield filled my field of vision.

After being cooped up inside netting-shrouded batting tunnels, the sheer openness was utterly refreshing.

They said there'd be batting too.

My hands moved faster of their own accord as I changed into the uniform.

Stepping back outside, a staff member approached and clipped a small lapel microphone onto my collar, securing a transmitter to the back of my waistband.

"Could you give us a quick sound check?"

"Hello."

"Great, that's good. If you need to change or take it off at any point, just let us know."

While the audio crew checked the gear, Mom chatted with the writer a short distance away.

I slowly rotated my waist. The equipment didn't hinder my movement in the slightest.

Shortly after, a man wearing a ballcap walked over.

"Hello there. I'm Park Seong-woo, the directing PD."

"Hello."

"I was genuinely astonished when I watched the video your father sent over. Your swing looks incredible."

"Thank you."

"Today, we'll do a brief interview, let you warm up, and then head straight into testing. If the order changes, the writer will let you know."

The PD glanced toward ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the field.

"Once you step out there, just follow the instructions from the manager and coaches. We'll edit everything nicely, so don't feel pressured to overdo it or get too nervous."

"Understood."

When a voice crackled through his two-way radio calling for him, the PD raised a hand in acknowledgment and excused himself.

I followed the writer and sat in front of a small camera.

Behind me was a backdrop emblazoned with the show's logo. She said we would shoot a quick pre-interview before moving on.

"You don't have to look directly into the camera. Just look at me and speak comfortably."

The writer sat down beside the lens.

I introduced myself and shared how I came to start playing baseball. When I mentioned that my father was a former catcher, a few follow-up questions were added.

"Does your father like that you play baseball, Seo-jin?"

"Yes. Honestly, I think he might like it even more than I do."

"So he must have cheered you on for coming today?"

"He told me to bring back the manager's autograph."

Laughter rippled from behind the camera.

The writer chuckled along before moving on to the next question.

"You saw the other participants earlier today, right? Many of them are former elite athletes with years of sports training behind them. How do you feel about that?"

"I think playing baseball with them will be a lot of fun."

"If there's one skill you have the most confidence in, what would it be?"

I pondered it for a second.

I had confidence in everything, but if I had to pick just one...

"Throwing with pinpoint accuracy."

"You mentioned you wanted to be ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a pitcher, right?"

"Yes. And I like hitting, too."

"So a two-way player?"

"If you let me."

The writer laughed again.

She clearly took it as a playful joke.

Well, it didn't matter.

They would see for themselves soon enough.

After wrapping up the interview, I warmed up in the designated area. While I jogged lightly and loosened my shoulders, preparations on the diamond were in full swing.

I spotted a camera stationed behind the backstop, others flanking the dugouts, and another mounted on a long boom crane.

A full-scale television production really is on another level.

Just then, the writer raised her hand.

"Seo-jin, we're ready for you!"

I picked up the glove resting on the bench.

Off to the side, Mom mouthed, Do your best, with an encouraging nod.

I gave her a light nod in return and walked out onto the diamond.

A camera swung around slowly, tracking my stride.

Initially, I had truly come here just to earn a day's pocket money.

Yet the moment my spikes met the dirt of the field, the corners of my lips crept upward unbidden.

After all, when it came to baseball, I was powerless to be anything other than completely serious.