Book Review: Bat Boy, by Matthew McGough

Bat Boy: My True Life Adventures Coming of Age With the New York Yankees
by Matt McGough
c. 2005, Doubleday, $22.95

The world of baseball has always been rich enough to accomodate both young boys' dreams and grown mens' nostalgia.
- Matt McGough, from Bat Boy

I have only two criticisms of Matt McGough's new book, "Bat Boy": It's too short, and it didn't happen to me.

Most young boys who grow up watching, playing and following baseball dream of someday occupying the position of their favorite ballplayer, nay, perhaps even to become that player, if such a thing were possible. For Matt McGough, a teenage Yankee fan in the 1980's (like me) that player was Don Mattingly. As it turns out for most of us, McGough did not have the magic to turn himself into Donnie Baseball, nor did he have the talent to become a professional ballplayer, but he had the determination to attempt what is likely the next best thing: being the Yankees' Bat Boy.

In 1992 McGough became the first Yankees Bat Boy, at least as far as anyone could remember, to attain the position as a result of something other than blatant nepotism. His two-year stint in that role provided him an ample supply of memories from which to draw material for his book, which he wisely chose not to write until ten years (and some writing classes at Williams College) had passed. McGough's tome recounts his many experiencess, from that of an innocent child, an awe-struck observer at the infamous "Pine-Tar Game", to that of a law-school student with the good fortune to be recalled for service during the Yankees' historic 1998 playoff run, but sadly recognizing that this phase of his life was clearly over.

Along the way, McGough relates his inauspicious start as an unsure-of-himself 17-year old trying to find his way in the Yankees' clubhouse, to an all-too-sure-of-himself 18-year old, shirking his stated duties as Bat Boy to do favors for the players and make shady memorabilia deals. The pages between are filled with practical jokes and blind dates, late night card games, batting practice and fist fights, paltry paychecks and generous tips, road trips (both with and without the team), fatherly advice, friendships gained and lost, and financial decisions he'd later regret. These are just a few of the authors many experiences, and with almost every one, there is some lesson that the author, now ten years wiser, imparts to his audience.

McGough is refreshingly honest about his feelings, as he rcalls them, from this time of his life. He does not mind sharing his vices along with his more noble motives and prouder exploits. His persistence and tenacity served him well in getting the job, as well as keeping it, once his love of the game and of his boyhood idols gave way to typical teenage apathy and overconfidence, taking his enthusiasm for shining cleats and folding jockstraps with them.

At first glance it might seem like Matt McGough was, for a time, the luckiest kid in the world. But let us not forget the words of that great old sage, Branch Rickey, "Luck is the residue of design." One of the quotes on the back of the book compares the author to Holden Caulfield, but I see this comparison doing a disservice to McGough. The problem with Caulfield, the "hero" of the Catcher in the Rye, was that he never really chose into anything, preferring instead to allow his environment to act on him, and never really experiencing life. McGough's "luck" stemmed not from confluences of circumstances beyond his control, but from his persistence at pursuing his dreams and from his willingness to do things, to try things, to make choices, even if they may turn out badly, if only so he could say that he had the experience.

Bat Boy is a wonderful, witty, well-written book. McGough's accounts are funny at times, as he relates stories that show both himself and others in a humorous light. Other stories are melancholy or even suspenseful, but in the end, almost all are touching and meaningful. McGough's ability to maintain the tension of a story in his prose serves him well, as you'll feel compelled to keep reading long after you should have gone to bed, or to work, or to get up from your comfortable chair, put down this remarkably engrossing book, and go do something productive for a while. For the record, I'm betting that you won't be able to put it down either. Maybe it's a good thing the book's not any longer than it is after all.