#im not gonna tage all the individual players

[polkadotzavala]

I don't know which blaseball team you're on so you can pick the characters but could you do 15 for the prompts?

HI!!!! im a mint!!! sorry this took like a week, i accidentally got a little carried away so heres 2k of OG mins lore (as i see it bc he minty way is that Everything Nice Is True

15: Things you said many miles apart

A collection of Interviews, taken in the weeks leading up to the Formation and Appearance of ILB Blaseball Team, The Kansas City Breath Mints. Found on VHS in a tote bag hidden in the office of Mr. M. Betmint, KCBM General Manager, digitized and filed during the Siesta by Mx. B. Monreal, Season 11 KCBM Interim General Manager.

 ---

 “SAY YOUR NAME FOR THE CAMERA.”

 “My name is Whit Steakknife, do you always yell like that?” Whit Steakknife cocks his serrated knife blade of a head to the side. His hands do not move from their folded position on the table. 

 “THIS IS MY NORMAL MANAGER VOICE.” Calls the voice standing behind the large camera tripod. 

 “Okay then Mr., uh, Betmint, was it?”

 “YES. I AM MAXIMUS BETMINT. I HAVE A FEW QUESTIONS FOR YOU.” 

 “Ask away.”

 “HAVE YOU EVER PLAYED BLASEBALL BEFORE?”

 “A few neighborhood grabbag teams here and there, even met my second wife, Justice, playing blaseball.” He flashes his left hand, where a single rose gold band is visible. 

 “DO YOU PLAN ON PLAYING BLASEBALL PROFESSIONALLY?”

 “In the league that’s forming? Maybe, if I get an offer to.”

 “IS THE COMMISSIONER DOING A GREAT JOB?”

 “Absolutely.” Whit Steakknife smiles, and the interview is over. 

 ---

 The following VHS’s audio was significantly quieter than the rest and the video quality was lacking more than the others. Still regarded as adequate data. -BM

-  -  -

 “HELLO INTERVIEWEE. PLEASE SET DOWN YOUR BAT AND STATE YOUR NAME INTO THE CAMERA.”

 “So, you acknowledge that it is a bat.”

 “WHY WOULD IT NOT BE?”

 “Because you folks on this end of the pond do not seem to know what Clricket is.”

 “YOU’RE RIGHT, I DON’T. WHY DON’T YOU TELL ME WITH YOUR NAME INTO THE CAMERA?”

 “My name is Marquez Clark and I am a Clricket batter.”

 “DOES THAT MEAN YOU ALSO  KNOW HOW TO BE A BLASEBALL BATTER?”

 “I wager I could try.”

 “WOULD YOU JOIN A BLASEBALL TEAM?”

 “I do not see why not.”

 “FINALLY. IS THE COMMISSIONER DOING A GREAT JOB?”

 “I do not know who he is but I would assume so.” Marquez Clark picks up his Clricket bat and leaves camera view, ending the interview.

---

 “PLEASE STATE YOUR NAME TO THE CAMERA.”

 The mime on camera does not say anything and simply hands a paper to the man behind the camera. 

 “GREY ALVARADO, MIME FOR HIRE.”

 The mime, Grey Alvarado, nods quietly. 

 “IS MIME BITS ALL YOU ARE HIRED FOR?”

 Grey smiles and shakes his head no. He mimes the action of using a pickaxe to mine, rocking a baby to sleep, and mixing something in a large bowl. 

 “HAVE YOU BEEN HIRED FOR BLASEBALL BEFORE?”  

 Grey nods yes and mimes tapping a blaseball bat on the batting plate and readying a swing.

 “WOULD YOU BE WILLING TO PLAY BLASEBALL PROFESSIONALLY?”

Grey smiles wider, as if silently laughing, and mimes hitting a pitch with his mimed bat and then shields his eyes as if looking into the sunny distance to see how far the ball flew. 

 “IS THE COMMISSIONER DOING A GREAT JOB?”

 Grey strikes a pose and gives the camera a thumbs up, ending the interview. 

 ---

 “TELL THE CAMERA YOUR NAME PLEASE.”

 “My name is Eizabeth Guerra, it's right there on the catering invoice.” Eizabeth Guerra sits in a chair, arms folded over her baker’s apron. 

 “YES THANK YOU FOR THE MINTY DESSERTS, THE SPEARMINT WILL BE APPEASED.”

 “The spearmint will-, nevermind, I came here to bring you catered desserts, not answer an interview.”

 “IS AN INTERVIEW NOT PART OF THE CATERING PROCESS?”

 “Usually not, Mister Betmint.”

 “DO YOU EVER CATER BLASEBALL EVENTS OR GAMES?”

 “Occasionally.”

 “DO YOU THINK THAT WOULD ALLOW YOU TO HAVE ENOUGH KNOWLEDGE TO PLAY BLASEBALL PROFESSIONALLY?”

 “What are you playing at Mr. Betmint?” She leans forward in her chair, getting closer to the camera. 

 “CAN’T TELL YOU.”

 “Alright then.”

 “DO YOU THINK THE COMMISSIONER IS DOING A GREAT JOB?”

 “I’d assume so.” Eizabeth Guerra stands and tips her cap to the camera, the interview is over. 

 ---

 “TELL US YOUR NAME. THE CAMERA WANTS TO KNOW.”

 “Oh? You don’t know your own boyfriend’s name?”

 “ARE YOU MY BOYFRIEND?”

 “I might be, I might not be. I guess we’ll never know.”  They laugh a little.

 “YOU STILL HAVEN’T SAID YOUR NAME.”

 “My name is Boyfriend Monreal, ethereal boyfriend.” Boyfriend Monreal smirks and the eyes dotting their lengthy braid of hair blink in a slow cascading pattern. 

 “MX. MONREAL, DO YOU KNOW WHAT BLASEBALL IS?”

 “I’ve seen a few baseball players now and again, yes.”

 “WITH ALL OF THE EYES OR ON A DATE?”

 “Yes.”

 “HAVE YOU LEARNED HOW TO PLAY THE SPLORT AT ALL THROUGH THIS?”

 “Enough, and enough to know what you’re going to ask next.”

 “WHICH IS?”

 “Whether or not I could play Blaseball professionally, and the answer is yes, I will be.” 

 “DO YOU-”

 “Of course he is,” Boyfriend Monreal stands and winks with nearly all their eyes, “for now.” 

 ---

 The following footage, though perfectly intact on the VHS, did not translate well digitally. As such it is incomplete, and regarded as inaccurate data. -BM

-  -  -

 “CAMERA! TELL THE CAMERA YOUR NAME” Betmint sounds a little agitated and out of breath, as if the camera had not being working correctly. 

 “My name is Rodriguez Internet, and I am the Internet.” Rodriguez Internet bows a little, the ASCII Strings that make up his body shifting to create the movement.

 “DOES BEING THE INTERNET LET YOU KNOW EVERYTHING?”

 “There is way way too much to know, so I don’t know anything.”

 “DO YOU AT LEAST KNOW WHAT BLASEBALL IS?”

 “It’s a splort.”

 “CORRECT. CAN YOU PLAY IT?”

 “I’m down to learn it, yeah.”

 “DO-” The feed cuts out, the rest of Betmint’s sentence can be heard in bits an pieces, though nothing discernable enough to tell what he said. The feed returns at the end of his next question, “- A GREAT JOB?”

 “Yes, of course he is.” Rodrigeuz Internet tips his imaginary hat as he stands and walks away from the camera. The tape runs for about 30 seconds on an empty room before cutting out, the interview is over. 

 ---

 “THE CAMERA IS ROLLING. FEEL FREE TO SAY YOUR NAME AND MONOLOUGE AT IT.”

 “Thank you for the opportunity to do so Mr. Betmint.”

 “MY PLEASURE.”

 “My name is Dickerson Morse, PI. Before you start yelling again sir, I am not here to investigate you.” Dickerson Morse levies the camera a steady dead stare from under the brim of his fedora.

“PHEW.”

 “I am here to interview for whatever team it was you were advertising with this poorly made flyer. What are the qualifications I need?”

 “WELL, DO YOU KNOW WHAT BLASEBALL IS?”

 “I’ve done steak-outs at games before, back when I did larceny cases.”

 “DO YOU THINK YOU COULD PLAY IT PROFESSIONALLY?”

 “Technically I am a professional at everything, so, yes.”

 “GREAT. FINAL QUESTION. DO YOU THINK THE COMISSIONER IS DOING A GREAT JOB?”

 “Yes.” Dickerson Morse crushes something small against the table, the video feed fills with smoke and he is gone. The interview is over.

 ---

 “SAY HELLO TO THE CAMERA. TELL IT YOUR NAME.” 

 “Hello, I am Hewitt Best.”

 “HELLO. DO YOU KNOW BLASEBALL?”

 “Yes, I do.

 “CAN YOU PLAY IT?”

 “Yes, I can.”

 “WOULD YOU PLAY IT PROFESSIONALLY?”

 “Would I get union benefits?”

 “I DON’T KNOW WHAT THOSE ARE BUT I THINK SO.”

 “Then yes, I would.”

 “IS THE COMMISSIONER DOING A GREAT JOB?”

 “Certainly.” Hewitt Best smiles and simply walks away from the screen, the interview is over.

 ---

 The video on this tape is nearly indecipherable sue to angelic presence; however,  the audio is completely intact. Regarded as accurate data. - BM

-  -  -

 “I THINK IT WORKS NOW. HERE’S A CAMERA, PLEASE SAY YOUR NAME TO THE CAMERA.”

 “Eduardo Ingram, Seraph.” The bright spot that is the angelic form of Eduardo Ingram shines a bit brighter for a second. 

 “And leach ingram, lich.” The darker spot on the film that is the necrotic form of Leach Ingram flickers for a second.

 “DO YOU COME AS A PAIR?”

 “Well, no.”  Eddie laughs.

 “Can you blame a lich for wanting to spend time with her partner?” 

 “CONGRATS ON YOUR MARRIAGE.”

 “Thank you.” The two reply in unison.

 “HAVE EITHER OF YOU HEARD OF BLASEBALL?”

 “I have, yes.”

 “Where i can throw a ball in the direction of the plate he can hit it out of the park.” 

 “WOULD YOU BOTH PLAY PROFESSIONALLY IF GIVEN THE CHANCE?”

 The colors of the video shift for a second, as if the two are looking at each other. “Yes.” They both reply, curtly, in unison. 

 “THE COMMISSIONER. IS HE DOING A GREAT JOB.”

 “Yes.”

 “Absolutely.”

 The video flickers to pitch black before refocusing on the now empty office. Eduardo and Leach Ingram have left and their interview is over. 

 ---

 “SMILE FOR THE CAMERA AND TELL IT YOUR NAME.”

 “A good dentist never does his own teeth, so I'm afraid mine are a little shoddy.” He flashes a crooked smile.

“ARE YOU BOASTING DENTAL PROWESS, SIR?”

 “Well, of course, all the kids say Oscar Vaughn D.D.S is the best dentist in all of Kansas City.” Oscar Vaughn sits back a little in his chair. 

 “DO YOU DO DENTAL WORK ON ANY BLASEBALL PLAYERS?”

 “Occasionally.”

 “DO YOU KNOW HOW TO PLAY BLASEBALL?”

 “Oh, of course, I was quite the slugger in college.” He laughs, “Quite impressed my dear husband, too.” He smiles fondly. 

 “ARE YOU AT ALL INTERESTED IN PLAYING BLASEBALL PROFESSIONALLY?”

 “Given I dust off my old gear and my old splorts bones, I think I could manage.” 

 “AND IS THE COMISSIONER DOING A GREAT JOB?”

 “Forever and always.” Oscar Vaughn nods his head at the camera and the interview is over. 

 Note: The tape and digital upload of the tape both glitch and play this interview twice over instead of the one single time. No known reason as to why. Tapes are still valid information. -BM

 ---

 “TELL THE CAMERA YOUR NAME, BE ITS FRIEND.”

 “Does the camera have the sentience to make friends, Mr. Betmint?”

 “I DON’T KNOW. EXISTENTIALISM IS NOT MY STRONG SUIT.”

 “That’s fair.”

 “WHAT WAS YOUR NAME AGAIN.”

 “Axel Trololol and I’m going to become a car one day.” Axel Trololol beams a bright smile directly at the camera. 

 “OH, DO YOU KNOW ABOUT CYBERNETICS? I NEED MORE PEOPLE WHO KNOW ABOUT CYBERNETICS.”

 “I know my fair share, yes.” 

 “DO YOU KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT BLASEBALL?” 

 “Quite a bit, my sibling Stu has been playing for a few years and I’ve picked some of it up.”

 “WOULD YOU PLAY IT PROFESSIONALLY?”

 “In a heartbeat.” 

 “DO YOU THINK THE COMMISSIONER IS DOING A GREAT JOB?”

 “The greatest job.” Axel Trololol smiles brightly and the interview is over. 

 ---

 “CAMERA IS GOING TELL IT YOUR NAME.”

 “My Name Is PolkaDot Patterson.” “My name is PolkaDot Zavala”

Call two similar, yet distinct, voices from where PolkaDot Patterson and their shadow, PolkaDot Zavala, are sitting. “WAIT ARE THERE TWO OF YOU?”

 “Yes And No, We Are Separate People And Separate Entities, Zavala Merely Is My Shadow. Therefore, She Is A Part Of Me But We Are Not The Same.”

 “I am them, and I am me, they are only them, and they are not not me.”

 “SO DO YOU DO EVERYTHING EXACTLY THE SAME?” 

 “Not Always, We Can Move As Separate People.”

 “I take naps when they do things quite often.” 

 “IF ONE OF YOU LEARNED A SPLORT COULD THE OTHER ONE DO IT AS WELL?”

 “Within Reason, Yes.”

 “I’ll just read the textbooks over their shoulder.”  Zavala giggles. 

 “DO EITHER OF YOU KNOW BLASEBALL?”

 “A Decent Amount, I’m Not As Good At It As I Would Like To Be, But, I Will Get There.”

 “I’ve sat in on a lesson or two, enough to know what’s goin’ on in a game.” 

 “WOULD YOU LIKE TO PLAY BLASEBALL PROFESSIONALLY?”

 “That Would Be Much Apreiciated Practice.”

 “I don’t really have anything better to do, plus it might be fun.”

 “OKAY. IS THE COMMISSIONER DOING A GREAT JOB?”

 “Yes, Of Course.” PolkaDot Patterson stands and gives a half bow as they turn away from the camera.

 “Naturally, duh.” PolkaDot Zavala gives the other half of the bow as they follow Patterson out the door. The interview is over.