The Baseball Glove by Víctor Martínez

First published: 1993

Type of plot: Social realism

Time of work: The 1970's

Locale: Central California

Principal Characters:

  • The narrator, a Chicano teenager
  • Bernardo (Nardo), his brother

The Story

The narrator, remembering when he and his brother Bernardo, or Nardo as the family calls him, were both teenagers, recalls the various jobs that Nardo held one summer: busboy, dishwasher, parking attendant, and short-order cook. Nardo managed to get himself fired from all of them, either for not showing up or showing up too often for a boss that hated him. Nardo's favorite job was working as a busboy for a catering service at the Bonneville Lakes country club, touching elbows with the rich and enjoying free drinks and other perks. He lost this job when, on a dare, he took off his busboy's jacket and asked a girl to dance. Unfortunately, his boss saw him.

There is not much left that summer for Nardo and his brother except the fields, and Nardo does not relish the idea of sweating over clods of dirt in temperatures more than 100 degrees, during one of the hottest summers in the history of California's San Joaquin Valley. Everyone in the family works, however—Nardo's sister Magda sweats in a laundry and Nardo's brother sells fruit door to door—so the pressure is on Nardo to get a job. Naturally lazy by temperament, Nardo is scolded, shamed, and threatened by his parents, especially by his father, but nothing seems to work. After a while everybody gives up on Nardo, who stays home lifting weights, exercising, and primping in front of a mirror.

The narrator, who is not at all like his brother, wants to work. Uncle Louie, with whom he sold fruit door to door, hurt his leg tripping over tree roots in the front yard, and the boy now feels empty without something useful to do. Besides, he needs money for school clothes and supplies. Most of all, he wants a baseball glove that he saw in the window of Duran's Department Store. His fantasies are filled with baseball, and he sees himself making spectacular Willy Mays-like catches with such a glove. When he tries to convince Nardo to go into the field with him to pick chili peppers, Nardo—to everyone's amazement—agrees. Nardo is going to prove to them all that he is not lazy.

At the chili field the next day, the two brothers find that most of the rows have already been taken because most of the fieldworkers got up while it was still dark, but the foreman agrees to give them a scrawny row that nobody else wants—a row coated with pesticide and thick with exhaust fumes from traffic on the nearby road. Their job is to fill a can with chili peppers and carry it to a nearby weighing area, where they will receive immediate payment. The weighing area, however, is sheer hell. Older women and young girls, some with handkerchiefs tied around their faces, sift through the peppers, and the scent of freshly broken peppers makes it almost impossible to breathe. At the weighing area is a company-owned vending truck from which workers can purchase snacks and soft drinks. Nardo is angered that he must pay eighty-five cents for a cheap soft drink that has gone flat.

The brothers endure this work, amazed at the Mexican working next to them. With a can in each hand, the man efficiently moves up and down the rows, pouring the cans into sacks he has stationed every twenty feet or so. Suddenly a van approaches, and workers begin to scatter. The brothers quickly realize it is the immigration authorities, come to pick up illegal aliens. Soon the Mexicans are all rounded up and herded onto a bus. The twenty or so workers who are left search the rows for filled sacks, confiscating them for themselves. Nardo claims the sacks belonging to the Mexican who was working the rows next to them; they contain more than the brothers could have picked in two days. Now, Nardo tells his brother, he can buy that baseball mitt.

Looking down at the sacks, the narrator feels weary and wonders how long it would have taken him to pick this many peppers. Then he envisions the baseball glove, clean and smelling of leather, and sees himself standing in the cool, green grass of center field, like the Bonneville Lakes golf course Nardo has told him about. He imagines he is already on the school baseball team with people looking at him with respect and admiration—not the people who pick peppers or those who were rounded up in the vans, but people he has yet to know.