Yeah, I was that “lucky kid.”
I was a batboy for the Toledo Mud Hens from 200710, and it was a great experience I highly recommend to anyone who is willing to put in a lot of work from April to September.
And I am serious when I say work.
Contrary to popular opinion, being a minor-league batboy is not a glamorous job.
Retrieving bats at Fifth Third Field was by far the least strenuous part of my eight-hour day, and wearing the home uniform in 100-degree temperatures is not all it’s cracked up to be.
But what my time as a batboy taught me has served me well as a journalist and as an employee. It’s easier to appreciate the game when you are a part of the preparations, which begin hours before the first pitch.
For a 7 p.m. game, I arrived at Fifth Third Field by 3 p.m. and had plenty of work to do immediately. Hundreds of towels in the laundry room needed to be folded. Chewing gum, several varieties of sunflower seeds, 10-gallon water jugs, plastic cups, batting helmets and medical supplies had to be delivered to each dugout before batting practice.
There were errands to run, food to pick up, items to restock and sometimes personalities to avoid.
My favorite part of the job was shagging home runs during batting practice. After I stopped playing in eighth grade, that was as close as I got to taking part in live action. On a cool day with few homers, I would simply enjoy the relative quiet of the empty ballpark compared to the busy clubhouse.
Other times, I would prepare the game balls instead of helping out with batting practice. The baseballs are coated with rubbing mud to take out any imperfections in the balls and to give them a consistent feel for the pitcher. Lighter balls are easier for the batter to see, while darker ones benefit the pitcher. On an average day, we used about seven dozen but prepared 10 or 11 dozen just in case.
After the game came my least favorite part of the job: cleaning the cleats. Warm, sunny days were the best. But on some rainy days, the cleats were so dirty I could not see the spikes on the bottom of the shoes. That was the difference between ending my day at 11 p.m. or well past midnight.
If a team was leaving town, we were responsible for making sure everything from the trainer’s equipment to each batting glove made it onto the team’s bus. That added another hour to the end of the workday.
I was paid for my work, but after taxes took home less than minimum wage. It really was not a glorious job. But it was worth it.
At times, the job was monotonous, but every day still had some unique element that set it apart from all of the others. A batboy has to be around the players to take care of any needs, but he is almost never with the players. Autographs are prohibited. Also prohibited is talking to a player unless he approaches you first. We were not allowed to take home any souvenirs from the clubhouse — though it would be hard to tell if a baseball disappeared here or there.
By the end of the season, I had memorized each player’s batting average and knew his tendencies in the batter’s box. Not many of them even knew my name.
But working with the Mud Hens was still a great experience. It taught me to take a positive attitude in everything, even repetitive work such as folding towels or cleaning shoes.
I met some great friends and have some amazing stories to tell. I had no idea what the job involved when I took it as a 16-year-old. But the friends, stories and work ethic I
gained were much more valuable than having the best seat in the house.
Michael Stainbrook is a former Toledo Free Press staff writer. He is a graduate of St. John’s Jesuit High School and a student at Ohio University.
