Return of the Mack
The word intern is defined as a student or a recent graduate undergoing supervised practical training.\ An internship is defined as ""the state or position of being an intern."" Pretty simple. Pretty straight forward.
As the final days of April quickly trickle into May, students on campus are frantically applying for internships across Dane County—some paid, the majority just for the ""experience""—in order to stay on the Terrace in Madison for the summer, rather than return home to their parents and high school friends that now, after a few unsuccessful years at a tech-school, are professional laborers and/or oil change aficionados.
Anyone lucky enough to have had an internship (outside of engineers, pharmacists and accountants, of all whom actually majored in something legitimate), can share the horror stories of gathering coffee or transcribing quotes for hours on end. At the same time, in a few select cases, an internship is actually a beneficial and worthwhile experience (i.e.-The Capital Times, spring 2005, thanks Mr. Mertz).
But, as promised to a few co-interns, here is the ""behind the scenes exclusive"" of my three and a half weeks with the Madison Mallards, summer 2005.
I started on May 20, with my birthday just the day before. Not the ideal way to start a new job—freshly hungover at eight in the morning—but nothing I was unfamiliar with.
It was my first day as a marketing/communications intern. However, I quickly made my first and biggest mistake: I revealed I had painted the summer after my freshman year. From that day on I painted. I painted the bleachers, I painted the clubhouse, I painted big things and small things and everything in the middle.
But then, my big break had arrived. Organize a celebrity softball game scheduled to kick-off the start of the 2005 season. But there's one condition, no one affiliated with University of Wisconsin-Madison can play in the game. Mallard's owner Steve Schmitt also doubles as the ringleader for the notorious Shoe Box in Black Earth, Wis., which ""catered"" to UW athletes in the late 90s. The relationship between Schmitt and UW has never been quite the same after numerous scholarships and money were lost as a result of free shoes and apparel Schmitt provided Wisconsin athletes.
Organizing a celebrity game in Madison without a person from UW is like Alando Tucker declaring he will return for his senior year and not enter the NBA draft. It just doesn't make sense. Does anyone have Matt Lepay's cell number?
But I worked through my restraints and filled the roster with radio and TV personalities, and then graduated Bernd Bruckler and Adam Mania, who I promised free beer and food to in exchange for the only celebrity status at the Duck Pond.
Long story short, Bruckler made a diving kick save to drive in the winning run and the crowd appeared to have a decent time.
But back to reality. Over the next few weeks, the combination of 12-hour days in 90-degree heat and the man with disproportioned feet began to take a toll on me. I was beginning to wonder just how valuable this summer would turn out to be.
At the same time, this was one of the few ""paid"" internships. I would make a base salary of $1000 for the entire summer. Now, I purposely avoided doing the math (60-plus hours a week times six days a week times three months in the summer, I think 3.14 and the slope intercept form was somewhere in there) because I knew I was working for peanuts.
Keep in mind, I fully agree with the expression ""ignorance is bliss."" And when I learned one morning while getting ready to dawn the Mallards mascot costume and hit State Street that I was making roughly 33 cents an hour for manual labor and free brats, it hit me pretty hard. I mean, I knew all along my wage rivaled a Third World sweatshop, but when I realized my actual ballpark figure, somehow I felt even more depressed.
At this point, I began to strongly question my days at Warner Park.
Finally, the straw that broke the camel's back was quite an appropriate expression in my case. I was actually laying hay on the outskirts of the outfield fence when I realized it was all going to come to an end.
I took the long stroll back to the office, which actually is just a trailer with a few computers and a bathroom, stole one final Gatorade from the concession stand and quietly announced my resignation. It was all over, my dream summer at the ballpark had concluded prematurely. But, as I drove slowly back toward the Capitol, I felt the weight of the world had been lifted off my shoulders.
But now that I got that off my chest, here is the real story I need to get across. Plain and simple, I still love the Mallards and must admit they are an ideal fit for the city of Madison.
For an area that yearns for baseball and lacks a professional and Division 1 draw, the Mallards provide the perfect fix in the summer months. The Duck Pond is sold out on a nightly basis and it truly caters to an audience of all ages.
Drunk college students are quarantined in the Duck Blind, where all the beer and food you can consume costs a mere $25, and the right fielder on the opposing team gets to feel the banter from fans well versed in UW football, basketball and hockey cheers for nine innings. A play area was recently put for the children and fans that actually want to watch a quality baseball game are seated appropriately around the diamond.
But the front office is where the Mallards truly shine. The combination of Vern Stenman (general manager) and Schmitt has established the Mallards as the pinnacle organization in the Northwoods League on an annual basis. Madison had previously seen the Muskies, Hatters and the Black Wolf come and go with limited success, but when the Mallards were established in 2001, the team became an instant hit.
In any job I have had or witnessed, no one has been more dedicated or driven as Stenman was. He is the driving force behind the organization and should be credited for making baseball in Madison work. Additionally, their marketing tactics have been widely successful and the players they bring in to Madison are some of the top talent on in college baseball.
Most importantly, they have the ability to find a few select interns that are willing to devote their summer for little monetary gain.
All in all, it's good people and good baseball, regardless of how small my impact was there. Looking back, I enjoyed my three weeks with the Mallards almost as much as I did resigning, especially because of you Conor.
Jon is a senior without an internship, job or money this summer. E-mail him potential ideas other than drinking at the Terrace at jrmcnamara@wisc.edu.
\
