I was just a kid, but I already had my dream job. I was the batboy for the Pine City Porcupines. The Pines were the baseball team in my hometown. They played in the Prairie League.
I wrote them a letter in the off-season, asking if I could be a batboy. I told them that I would love to do it, that I knew a lot about baseball, and that I would work really, really hard.
Dad said I should also send them a résumé.
"What's a rez-u-may?" I asked him. That's how he said it: "rez-u-may."
"It's a list of all your past jobs and your accomplishments," he said.
"I've never had a job."
"Good point," my dad said. "But you do have a lot of accomplishments."
So I got on the computer and typed up my accomplishments. It took me all day.
"I've never seen 'I have my own résumé' on a person's résumé before," Dad said when I was done.
"But I worked really hard on it."
"Good point. It looks great. Let's mail it tomorrow."
· · ·
I waited two weeks, but nobody called.
"It can take a long time," said Dad. "Be patient."
I waited two more weeks, and still nobody called. I was beginning to give up hope.
"The season hasn't even started yet," said Dad. He was right.
Then I got the call! The Porcupines wanted me to come in for a job interview.
I put on my best pants, my good shoes, a shirt with a collar, and a snap-on tie.
"You look great," said Dad. "Remember to speak clearly and make good eye contact."
"OK."
"Do you want a ride?"
"No. I'll feel more grown-up if I ride my bike." We lived really close to the ballpark.
· · ·
I talked to the clubhouse manager, whose name was Wally. He had a big white droopy mustache that covered his mouth. At least I could make good eye contact.
"You have an impressive résumé," Manager Wally said.
"Thanks. I wrote it all by myself."
"Why do you want to be a batboy?" he asked.
"I love baseball," I told him. "You should see my room. I have posters and pennants on all the walls. I also have over five thousand baseball cards in binders. They fill a whole shelf."
"I love bacon, but I don't want to work on a pig farm," replied Wally.
"Yeah, but being a batboy is fun," I said.
"Sometimes it is, sometimes it isn't," said Wally. "It's always hard work. Have you ever done hard work?"
I thought about the hardest work I'd done. I'd pulled weeds in the garden. I always did my homework on time. I walked our spaniel mix, Penny, and cleaned up after her.
"All the time," I said.
"Final question," said Wally. "Explain the infield fly rule."
I knew all about the infield fly rule. My uncle Rick told me about it. Uncle Rick has told me almost everything I know about baseball. I explained to Wally that the infield fly rule kept the infielder from cheating and turning an easy out into two easy outs.
"I've always wanted somebody to explain that to me so I could understand it," he said. "When can you start?"
"When school gets out," I told him. Dad had been very clear about that.
"Great," said Wally. "But no more ties. Don't you know that there are no ties in baseball?"
"No ties," I repeated. I could totally keep that promise.
