The Intern: Searching for the key
Part 1 of 5 Serial Short Fiction
This is the first part of a five-part serial “The Intern,” a prequel of sorts leading up to the April 2 release of my next novel Lose Yourself. On the first Friday of every month until April, follow Javier as he navigates his dream job as an intern with his childhood team throughout the season. Along the way, you’ll meet characters from Lose Yourself.
By Vince Wetzel
Copyright 2023 by Vince Wetzel and OT Press
“I can’t believe I’m here,” Javier Santos said, standing on the freshly cut grass inside the Oakland Coliseum. Taking it all in, he looked up before sweeping his eyes across the vast expanse of the stands and scoreboards.
A lifelong Oakland A’s fan, Javier had never stepped onto the field before, even during fireworks night or after Sunday day games when kids could make a run around the bases. It was hallowed ground. But when an academic advisor at Cal State East Bay pushed an internship notice for the A’s press operation in front of him, Javier took it as fate and applied.
Three interviews and a month later, Javier was standing on his own field of dreams, beginning a new season without the cloud of a pandemic lingering like the cool Bay Area fog. The A’s were in their final preseason tune-up against the cross-bay rivals San Francisco Giants before tomorrow’s Opening Day.
“Hey kid,” A’s manager Frank Garza said. Javier felt like such a cliché looking behind him and making sure the skipper was talking to him. The white-haired scruffy manager nodded in the affirmative and Javier tentatively approached the batting cage.
“Yes, sir?” Javier had the most respect for the skipper. Garza, in turn, sized up the lanky kid.
“You’re one of the new interns, right?” Garza asked. He had a muted smirk that raised one side of his bushy white mustache. “What’s your name?”
Javier nodded. “Javier, sir.”
“Great. Then you can go up and tell your boss, Henderson, that he took the keys to the batter's box. I need them back so we can get this game started,” Garza said. “Can you handle that on your first game?”
“Definitely,” Javier said. Javier glanced at the batter’s box where hitters dug their spikes and readied themselves for the pitch. But there were no keys to the batter’s box. Was it some slang that referred to the batting cage where players had batting practice?
“Great,” Garza said, before Javier could ask for clarity. “I know you can do this, son.”
Garza turned back toward the plate and watched his All-Star Brett Austen take more batting practice swings. Javier turned around. He pulled out his phone and texted his supervisor Melissa about where his big boss, Director of Public Relations Pete Henderson could be.
“Do you know where Pete is” he typed as he walked toward the tunnel to take the elevator back to the offices.
“Why?” Melissa texted back.
“Garza needs the keys to the batter’s box. Says Pete has ‘em.”
Javier was in the elevator as he watched the three-dot bubble start, stop, start, stop, and then finally say, “He’s up here with me.”
Javier shook his head. Why did it take that much time to say that Pete was right next to her? Javier started up to the offices where he could get the keys. and bring them back down to Garza in no time. Javier felt important. First game on the field and he was already coming through for a big-league manager.
By the end of the season, I might be Garza’s right-hand intern, Javier thought, letting his mind spin toward a future where he was in Henderson’s seat. He just needed to get these keys.
When he arrived, Pete and Melissa were standing at the threshold of Pete’s office, preparing materials for the pre-game press conference. As Javier entered, Pete looked up from the piles of papers.
“You need the keys to the batter’s box, right?” he asked. “Come on in. I think I’ve got them right over here.”
Well, Pete confirmed it, Javier thought. There was another batter’s box and keys for it too. Javier followed Pete into his office, where Javier sat during his second interview. It was also where Melissa provided an orientation to him, Justine, and Hamad, the other interns. Javier was still intimidated by the office adorned with memorabilia from the A’s, Dodgers and Orioles. There were pictures of Pete with Cal Ripken, Mike Piazza and Derek Jeter.
Pete opened up his desk and rifled through the drawers. Not finding the keys, he began to look through the papers on his desk, his face becoming increasingly irritated the more he searched.
“I swear I had these,” he said to himself. He stopped, put his hands on the desk and dropped his head. “Crap, I’m sorry. I gave them to Jason, the clubhouse guy. Have you met him before?”
Javier shook his head. How was he supposed to know the clubhouse guy? This was the first time he’d been around the team.
“Well, he’s your best bet to get those keys,” Henderson said. He looked at his watch. “Yeah, you better get down there. We’re closing in on the time when everything needs to be locked up and Garza is going to need those keys.”
Javier turned and left, his heart in a slight panic. Everything came down to these keys. It all depended on him to get them. He hoped Jason, the clubhouse guy, had them. As he waited for the elevator, an usher stood next to him. Decked out in his black polo shirt with green accents, he looked over at Javier, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
“Son, it’s only preseason. Don’t get too tense now. You won’t last the whole year,” the old man said. “I’ve lasted twenty-two years in this job and it does no one no good taking the game too seriously.”
“It’s not that, it’s… nevermind,” Javier said. He looked at the usher’s nametag, which said “Fred.”
“Well, you’ve got your reasons,” Fred said.
Javier nodded and stepped in, followed by Fred. The elevator operator couldn’t move fast enough to close the door. Javier tried to keep his heart rate down, his impatience bubbling. It was all depending on him to get the keys. Fred got off at Field Level, which cost him precious seconds. As Fred exited, he turned back to Javier.
“Good luck son,” he said, smiling. “Take it all in. It’s the best game in the world for a reason.”
Javier smirked. He knew that. But this was his chance to make an impression on Garza, Henderson, Melissa and the team. A chance to make his mark.
As the doors opened to the clubhouse level, Javier rushed into the clubhouse to find Jason, who was prepping the water and Gatorade jugs for the dugout.
“Jason?” Javier asked.
“Yeah, what’s up?” Jason was focused on mixing the sports drink.
“Garza needs the keys to the batter’s box. Mr. Henderson said he gave them to you. Do you have them?”
“Nope,” Jason said quickly, focused more on the cooler.
Javier ran his hands through his black hair, waiting for Jason to explain further where they may be.
“Henderson said he gave them to you.”
“Yep.”
Jason couldn’t care less about Javier’s predicament, focusing more on his job. Javier wanted to turn him around and ask where he could find the keys. Where were they?
“So, did you give them to someone?”
“Yeah. Um,” Jason was searching for a thought. “I gave it over to Dr. Fit, the trainer. He was heading onto the field. He said he’d get them to Garza.”
Javier felt relieved. At least the keys were getting to Garza, even if he wasn’t the one to deliver. Still, he was disappointed he wasn’t the one to come through.
“I should probably check in with Dr. Fit and Garza to make sure Garza got them,” Javier said. “Thanks.”
“No problem.”
Javier was less frantic as he left the clubhouse down the steps through the tunnel and onto the field. Along the way, he passed JT Berman and Brett Austen, the two A’s stars whose seasons would determine the team’s success in the coming year. He was hopeful. He smiled. They passed Javier like anyone who was supposed to be there. He belonged.
Javier walked onto the field. Dr. Fit was standing next to Garza leaning on the cage. Dr. Fit’s real name was Chuck Miller, but he went by the moniker because of his line of fitness regimen, products and supplements. He was bigger in person than on television, his branded A’s polo and track pants molded onto his body. Javier felt relief. Surely, the keys were delivered. He had to make sure.
“Um, Mr. Garza?” Javier said when he was about five feet away from the cage.
Garza and Dr. Fit both turned. Garza was a bit annoyed by the disruption but turned to a smile when he saw Javier. “There he is, got my keys?”
Javier’s eyes went wide. He looked at Dr. Fit, who had no reaction.
“Um, Jason, the clubhouse guy, said he gave them to you?” Javier looked at Dr. Fit.
“Gave me what?” Dr. Fit looked confused.
“The keys to the batter’s box,” Javier said. He was in full panic.
Realization filled Dr. Fit’s face. He looked at Garza, who returned a knowing stare.
“Oh, yeah, right,” Dr. Fit said. He pressed his hands on his pockets and then his shirt. “I had them a bit ago. Crap. Maybe I dropped them when I was leading some stretches. Check the grass over by the dugout.”
“Hurry up kid and find those keys,” Garza said. “I need them in two minutes.”
Javier turned and jogged toward the dugout. Oh no, he thought. They could be anywhere, and it was all on him to find these keys. And why wasn’t Dr. Fit helping? He was the one who lost them. As he got to the dugout. He looked down and paced up and down, creating a grid search of the grass in front of him. He thought a search would be relatively easy with the manicured field. But he didn’t see anything.
Oh God, I’m going to get fired, Javier convinced himself.
He put his hands on his hips and continued to look down and pace around the grass.
“What are you doing,” a voice said.
Javier looked up. It was Brett Austen, the team’s perennial All-Star right fielder. Austen, the man who was one of the best hitters in baseball, was talking to him.
“Um,” Javier searched for the words. “Mr. Garza needs the keys to the batter’s box. I’ve been talking to everyone, and no one has them and Dr. Fit said he may have dropped them over here, so I’m looking for them.”
“The keys to the batter’s box.”
“Yeah.”
“The batter’s box.”
Austen looked at Javier and Javier stared back. Austen shook his head, like Javier was an idiot.
“Kid, you know where the batter’s box is?” Austen asked.
“Well, no. I mean, there’s the box at the plate where you hit,” Javier said.
“That’s the only batter’s box there is,” Austen said. “They've been messin’ with you.”
Javier looked over at Garza and Dr. Fit, who were staring back at him, laughing. Henderson and Melissa were also on the field and grinning. Javier hung his head and shook it.
“Don’t worry about it,” Austen said, putting a hand on Javier’s shoulder. “They do it to one of the interns every year. They get the most earnest one and give them a run. Be honored.”
Javier smiled and gave a wave over to Garza. Garza and Dr. Fit waved back, a note of good will and gesture. If this was his first day on the field, who knew how the other 80 were going to go.
As a teacher, a few colleagues and I would do something similar to a student who was disruptive in class: "Go to Mr. Smith's class and see if he has my ruler ..." (upon arrival): "Mr. Haner is looking for his ruler, do you have it?" "No, Mrs. Williams borrowed it; maybe check with her" ... that kid would run around campus for 20-30 min looking for the ruler that was in my desk the whole time, but we would have a much smoother class period 🤣