BAT BOYS : These Lucky Guys Have the Jobs About Which Many Only Dream

Tim Budd’s friends think he is one of the luckiest guys in the world. Scott Elam claims he has the best job in the city of San Diego.

Are they lifeguards? No, but their occupations invite an equal amount of envy among most American teen-age boys.

They get to spend a lot of time in the sun, but they hang around fields rather than beaches. They dodge thrown bats and foul balls instead of waves.

“You look at the crowd,” Elam said from the first-base line at San Diego Jack Murphy Stadium, “and start thinking of how many people would just want to do that for just one day.”

Elam, 18, is one of four full-time Padre bat boys who is thrilled every time he puts on his San Diego uniform.

When Elam, Budd (a three-year veteran and the captain of this year’s corps), Bobby Aldis, Ed Peralta and Bruce Wick (a fifth bat boy who handles the visiting team) shag fly balls during batting practice, they feel as if they are in baseball heaven.

“Fielding the balls, running into the fence, pretending you are one of the players is by far the most fun part,” Elam said.

Actually, there isn’t too much drudgery in this coveted, yet low-paying job.

Making $21 a day, for what usually amounts to six to eight hours of work, is not much to brag about. However, getting two free passes per home game helps.

Going on one trip a year is a big bonus. Last year, Budd made the Houston-Cincinnati-Atlanta journey and also received a National League Championship ring and a partial share of the playoff money.

Shaking Steve Garvey’s hand after his game-winning home run in Game 4 of the National League Championship Series makes finances seem inconsequential.

Budd enjoys being a bat boy, rather than ball boy or line boy. Line boys get the best suntans sitting along the foul lines, but bat boys get to sit in the dugout, handle the bats, and--best of all--they get to congratulate players after they hit home runs.

“After a home run,” Budd said, “I’ll grab the hitter’s bat, wait for the baserunners and on-deck hitter to finish their high-fives, and then I’ll shake hands with the hitter.”

Padre equipment manager Ray Peralta gets a kick out of the reaction of the bat boys when a player hits a home run.

“They love being exposed to television,” he said. “Look and see who’s in the picture when someone hits a home run.”

It’s amazing how often the kid with peach-fuzz whiskers and “bat boy” on his back gets in newspaper photos.

In addition to sharing in high-five celebrations, bat boys take care of the rosin bag, pine tar rag, bat weight ring and the weighted bat that is in the on-deck circle. If a pitcher gets on base and wants his warmup jacket, it is the bat boy who delivers it.

On many occasions, the bat boys are in the spotlight for thousands of fans to see. Sometimes, the fans even cheer for them. Or at least the bat boy imagines that some of those cheers for Tony Gwynn are also for him.

It’s part of the fantasy. A fantasy which includes interacting with the players.

“With some players, it’s a good relationship,” Budd said. “I have a good friendship with Tony Gwynn and Dave Dravecky.”

Gwynn, who is nice to just about everybody, has a special feeling for the bat boys.

“These guys bust their tails for us and they do a super job,” he said. “I’m nice to them because I like them. They treat us with respect, so I treat them with respect.”

With some of the other Padres, it’s more of a professional bat boy-player relationship.

“Ballplayers complain if bat boys don’t bring them the right bats and gloves,” Ray Peralta said. “I try and get the kids to stay out of the players’ lockers unless they are told to get something.”

There is a fine line between where the bat boys can and can’t be. The training room, coaches’ room, manager’s room and lunch room are out of bounds unless the bat boys are on business.

Rule 17 in the Padres’ printed guide of rules and duties for bat boys: “Remember, what you hear in the clubhouse, what you see in the clubhouse, stays in the clubhouse.”

It is not always easy when Budd’s friends ask him what’s really going on in the dugout. What did Manager Dick Williams really say? Did so-and-so actually kick the water cooler after striking out? How many times did Williams scream at his coaches?

While most of his friends are working at convenience stores or fast-food joints, a bat boy’s office is a major league clubhouse.

How did Elam and Wick turn their dreams into reality?

They were sitting in their families’ season box seats one day. Then, numerous letters and lots of prayers later, they were handing Gwynn his bat.

The transition from fan to big league participant was a lot easier than getting the job.

Before this season, equipment manager Peralta received 75 letters from teen-agers wanting to be Padre bat boys. Elam said he wrote 30 letters to Peralta before he was granted an interview.

Peralta has been in charge of selecting bat boys and serving as father/boss to them since the Padres’ inception in 1969.

“When they write that they want to be bat boys because the Padres are their favorite team and because they have a collection of baseball cards, those are no-nos,” Peralta said.

Peralta has a set of rules and qualifications for a job which once belonged to the relatives of players and front office personnel. In this day of specialization, nepotism is not as popular. At least, not in San Diego.

After reading through the letters, Peralta selects a final group of 10. His choices are based on practicality and emotion. Many of the letters bring a chuckle and a lump in Peralta’s throat.

There are certain qualifications to be a Padre bat boy: He must be at least 16 years old and probably no older than 17 or 18 when he begins. Being a he is also a key with the Padres.

“Last year, I got three letters from girls who wanted to be bat girls,” Peralta said, “but I don’t believe our club will go along with that. I know they won’t.”

The closer an applicant lives to the stadium, the better. And having one’s own form of transportation is a big plus. By the time a bat boy leaves the stadium after a night game, it might be near midnight. Peralta does not want his guys to have to travel all over the county in the early hours of the morning.

Then, Peralta checks that the applicant has at least a B-plus average in school. Bat boys will be forced to miss school on occasion during weekday afternoon games, and they have to be able to handle it scholastically.

Elam has missed just three days of school this season. Budd has missed only one Padre home game in three seasons. He did not work a night game against Houston last season because he went to his high school prom.

There are hundreds of teen-agers waiting and hoping to become bat boys, so the lucky ones take their jobs seriously.

Peralta said he has only had to release two bat boys in his tenure with the Padres.

One took undue advantage of the Padres’ two passes per game ticket privileges. Another made the mistake of selling autographed balls to a fan, who turned out to be a season-ticket holder. The fan reported the bat boy, and the disappointed and embarrassed bat boy turned in his uniform.

Those are rare examples. For most bat boys, this is a once-in-a-lifetime job they will be able to tell their children about. For others, like Budd, the hope is that it will eventually lead to a position as a clubhouse attendant, equipment manager or other behind-the-scenes jobs.

In either case, it all starts with the initial job interview.

How do you hand a Louisville Slugger to a left-handed hitter? To a right-handed hitter? To a player in a slump? Do you use extra care when you pick up the bat of a guy who has hit in 20 straight games?

Actually, the interview has very little to do with baseball. It is a chance for Peralta to see how a 16- or 17-year-old handles himself around people. It is also a time for him to let the boys know that they cannot wear mustaches or long sideburns and their hair must be neatly trimmed.

“The attitude of the kids is important,” Peralta said. “I usually like to get them at 16, because 17- and 18-year-old kids think they’re ballplayers.”

Peralta likes to have athletic kids, but not necessarily athletes, working for him.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had someone that was currently playing baseball,” Peralta said. “That would interfere with their job.”

Realistically, if a player was good enough to play high school baseball, he would probably rather be a player than a bat boy.

Bat boys tend to be spectators and fans more than players.

Being a Padre fan makes Wick’s job as tough as that of his boss, visitors’ clubhouse attendant Brian Prilaman (a former bat boy who moved up in the organization).

Because only the Dodgers and Cubs travel with their own bat boys on occasion, Wick is a rotating bat boy.

He has worn the uniform of every National League team and he has every team’s cap at home. The 18-year-old Patrick Henry High graduate has even donned the Old English “D” of the Detroit Tigers when he served as their bat boy in last year’s World Series games in San Diego.

He has grown to like and dislike players on the opposing teams, but his heart is always with the Padres. He may root for the Montreal Expos to come to town, but he always wants the Padres to win.

“When Garvey hit the home run last year,” Wick said, “it was pretty hard to keep it in . . . A lot of times I have to walk out of the dugout because I start smiling.”