7:05 p.m.—Tonight Pete works balls for the home plate umpire. Another guy works the rightfield line, snagging foul balls, and another works bats in the dugout. (The rest are stuck in the clubhouse.) Problem is, sometimes a kid will be so tired from lack of sleep that he'll be out there nodding off in front of 50,000 people. "I've done it," says Lee. "I'm just glad a line drive didn't wake me up."
10:30 p.m.—Game's over. The real, nasty work starts. "Everybody thinks this is when we go home," says Pete. "But we've still got two hours of work to do." They pick up dirty uniforms, vacuum, straighten lockers, make food runs, empty trash, clean and polish 40 pairs of shoes. And they've got to do it all while dodging flying jocks, socks and towels thrown at their heads by millionaires. Fwomp!
12:30 a.m.—O.K., everything's done. Pete's spent, but he'll be in bed before 2 a.m. for once. At least he saw some baseball. The boys who worked the clubhouse have to watch the highlights later. So there it is, Kid. And remember, don't ask for tickets, autographs or a raise. With the Yankees, you get the minimum, $5.15 an hour, even if you've been on the job 10 years. Hey, don't forget your boss is George Steinbrenner!
So, you want the job? Kid? Kid?