Jim Sassetti pushes a shopping cart through the White Sox clubhouse, filling it with dirty uniforms, towels and sweatclothes.
He pulls the cart into a nearby laundry room and begins sorting clothes. It`s nearly 11 p.m. at Comiskey Park, but Sassetti`s workday, which started nine hours ago, is far from over.
Sassetti, a graduate of St. Joseph High School who`ll attend Illinois-Chicago this fall, says it`s fun to be a batboy in the major leagues-most of the time.
”A lot of people think we have a 1-2-3 type job,” he says. ”They think all we do is watch the game, run out and get the bats and come back to the dugout. That`s not the case. We do a lot more than that. This is a lot of work.”
Sassetti`s next task: a pile of 70 muddy baseball shoes sitting a few feet away from the laundry room. He and three other batboys must clean and polish each by hand before they go home.
”I`ve got another two hours of work ahead of me,” Sassetti says.
Back in the laundry room, Vince Fresso tosses a pile of wet clothes in a large industrial dryer. Fresso, a hospital security guard during the day, has been the assistant equipment manager and umpires attendant for three years.
”Every day seems long,” Fresso says, ”but I enjoy it. You get to know the players as people, too. It bothers me when the team isn`t winning and the fans yell at the players and call them bums. They have no clue as to what goes on behind the scenes. These guys give 100 percent all the time.”
It`s different for Lenny Rizzi, who has seen every Sox home game this year, but never an entire one. A Chicago policeman by day, Rizzi is in his first season as the clubhouse security guard.
”There`s really nothing tough about my job,” he says. ”I just watch the door to make sure no one sneaks in. I spend most of the game in the clubhouse, guarding the door. I switch off with Tommy McMahon (who guards the dugout) so I get to see a couple of innings.”
During games, Rizzi listens to the play-by-play on a portable radio. He says he didn`t follow baseball much until he landed a job on the crowd-security crew three years ago.
”I`m a converted fan,” he says. ”My son is a big fan. He`s amazed that I follow the Sox when they go on the road now. He can`t believe it when I can quote all of the batting averages and ERAs.”
Around the clubhouse, equipment manager Willie Thompson darts like a field mouse fleeing a farm cat. The Sox have just brought up three minor-league players, and it`s his job to see they`re taken care of. Lockers must be assigned, jerseys fitted and numbers and equipment issued.
He gets on the phone to order equipment, then matches jerseys for the new players. Later, he helps Fresso load laundry.
”Willie`s busy all the time,” Sassetti says, ”especially when it`s time to go on the road.”
Thompson is in his 10th season as equipment manager. He spent 20 years in the minors before former manager Tony LaRussa brought him up from the Knoxville farm team in 1979.
”Willie`s a living legend in the minor leagues,” Fresso says. ”Many of the players who came through here came in contact with Willie when they were in the minors. He did it all when he was down there. He was the equipment man, the trainer and even drove the bus.”
So goes another day and night in a major-league clubhouse. The Sox crew works nearly 24 hours a day cleaning and washing, loading and unloading, to keep the players and coaches comfortable in the clubhouse.
Pitcher Jerry Reuss says the clubhouse workers ”make life easier for us.”
”They take care of all the everyday, mundane things,” he says. ”They do everything from clean the clubhouse to make sure our uniforms are clean.
”These guys put in a lot of time. A lot of people think all the batboys do is pick up the bats during the game, but they do so much more for us. Whenever we need something, they`re there to take care of it.”
The seven-man crew, comprised of Thompson, Fresso, Rizzi and the four batboys, boasts 34 years of major-league experience. They start work as early as 7 a.m. for day games and stay as late as 2 or 3 a.m. after night games. When day games follow night games, Sassetti and the batboys sleep overnight in the clubhouse.
”It`s pretty tough when you have to get up and go to school the next day,” Sassetti says.
Across town at Wrigley Field, where daytime baseball has ruled, equipment manager Yosh Kawano starts his day at 6 a.m. and finishes around 7 p.m. He and a staff of three take care of the entire clubhouse.
”It`s a team effort,” he says. ”We have to pitch in and do everything, the cleaning, the loading, all of it.”
Kawano`s shift has changed. He stayed much later Monday and Tuesday, when the Cubs played their first night games.
”This ballpark has been geared toward day baseball for years,” he says. ”It`s going to be a big adjustment for us. We get there early in the morning for day games, so people are going to expect us to be there early for the night games, too.”
Kawano has been the Cubs` equipment manager since 1953, making him the dean of National League equipment managers. Before that, he was Wrigley Field`s clubhouse attendant for 10 years. In 1984, the clubhouse was named in his honor.
”The most rewarding thing about my job is just being associated with baseball,” he says. ”You can`t get rich doing what I do. The only people who get rich around here are the players.”
Kawano goes with the Cubs on the road. He says he enjoys the long hours and travel.
”I`m not married, so it really doesn`t make a difference what I do,” he says. ”But this is no life for a married person.”
It`s a good life for a batboy.
Back at Comiskey, Sassetti and fellow batboys Kevin Bartee and Steve Dorsey discuss an upcoming trip. All three are 18 and have been Sox batboys for five years. Sassetti classifies their work as the ”ultimate summer job.” ”A lot of kids would like to be in my position,” he says. ”I realize that and it makes me work harder.”
Sassetti says he landed the job by luck.
”We hung out at the park a lot and got to know Willie,” he says. ”He decided to make a change one day, and he asked us to be batboys.”
Each summer, the team rewards the batboys by taking them on a road trip. The next day, they`ll begin a 10-game swing to Anaheim, Oakland and Seattle.
”I`ve been to seven or eight ballparks,” Sassetti says. ”My favorite is Yankee Stadium. It`s an old park like Comiskey, but it has been remodeled. ”That`s the thing about Comiskey. It`s got the age (78 years, oldest in the majors), but you can`t build onto it. We have one of the smaller clubhouses in the league.”
Sassetti is nearing the end of a long day and night at Comiskey.
Their shift started out casually. They ran errands early in the afternoon and placed food orders for players at nearby restaurants.
Things picked up when Fresso arrived around 4 p.m. He headed for the umpires` locker room at the end of the dugout tunnel to unpack the umps` gear. ”I unpack it when they get in, and I`m responsible for getting it on to the next city when they leave here,” he says.
The team took batting practice at 5. Sassetti set the batting helmets on the top step of the dugout while Dorsey lugged a bag of bats to a nearby rack. Bartee helped Fresso sort the team`s mail while another batboy, Harold Newton, ran errands.
”Sometimes we`ll shag balls during batting practice or play some catch,” Sassetti says. ”We didn`t play baseball in high school because we were always coming out here after school. We didn`t have time to play.”
During the game, Sassetti sat by the backstop behind home plate and made sure the umpire had enough baseballs. In the late innings, the other batboys returned to the clubhouse and set up the postgame buffet, cooked in an upstairs kitchen at Comiskey.
After the game, Sassetti and the other batboys hauled the bats, helmets and other equipment back through the tunnel to the clubhouse. Then they locked the tunnel door.
Sassetti and Fresso began collecting dirty uniforms, towels and shoes scattered throughout the clubhouse. Fresso washed sweatclothes, socks and underwear at the stadium.
The uniforms and towels are sent out to the cleaners just after the game because the washer and dryer are too small to handle the large loads. They will be delivered the next afternoon.
”Some of the uniforms get pretty dirty,” Sassetti says. ”It depends on what position they play. The infielders dive for the ball a lot, so they get pretty muddy. Sometimes the outfielders will slide while making a catch and they get grass stains on their uniforms.”
They start on the spikes.
”We have to scrape and shine them every day,” Sassetti says. ”They use two pairs of shoes, one for batting practice, one for the game. They usually aren`t too bad, except when it`s muddy and raining.”
Reporters flood the clubhouse in search of interviews. Rizzi sits on a folding chair near the rear of the room, making sure only those with credentials get in.
”Sometimes kids will try to sneak in and get an autograph,” he says.
”But it`s nothing major. The press has been pretty cooperative. The only bad day was on Opening Day. It was a real hassle. There must have been 100 people in here.”
Once the players leave, the batboys will dump the garbage and vacuum. The shift usually ends by 1 a.m.
”This is a lot of work,” Sassetti says, ”but it`s fun. You get to meet a lot of interesting people. I`ve seen a lot of great players go through here, like Tom Seaver and Steve Carlton.”
The player Sassetti remembers best is reserve catcher Marc Hill, who played with the Sox from 1983 to 1986. He earned Sassetti`s vote as the greatest prankster of all time.
”You were never safe knowing Hill was around,” he says. ”He would do all kinds of stuff, shaving cream in the phone and in hats, hiding clothes. Everyone in the clubhouse was a victim when he played.”
Not many pranks have been played lately in the Sox clubhouse. This game was a 10-2 loss to the Oakland A`s, the Sox`s ninth defeat in 12 games.
”We have two moods here,” Sassetti says. ”We have a winning mood and a losing mood. It`s a lot more fun around here when we`re winning.”
The mood is somber for another reason. Sox first baseman Greg Walker had suffered two seizures over the weekend, one during batting practice. If not for the swift actions of trainer Herm Schneider, Walker might have died.
”I was in the field shagging balls when it happened,” Sassetti says.
”It was really scary. I had never seen anything like that happen before.”
Sassetti has an extra duty this day: passing get-well cards for Walker through the clubhouse. Everyone signed: players, coaches, batboys, trainers, members of the grounds crew.
Rizzi signed, too.
”Before I started working here, I never realized how much hard work the players and coaches put in,” he says. ”It`s sad when you see something bad happen to them or when they get sent down to the minors. You start to really pull for them after a while.”
