"We've had kids that have left their key at the ballpark," says Pauline McDowell of Sunnyvale, laughing. "They're a little embarrassed, especially if they're new to the house. One kid slept on the lounge chair. Another kid was out there throwing pebbles at our son's window to get him up."

Pauline and Chuck McDowell are among two dozen local "hostie" families, who take in San Jose Giants players who come from all over the United States, sometimes even from other countries to play.

"I think it's fun for them," says pitcher Garrett Broshuis who's in his second season with the Poole family of Almaden. "It's an interesting experience. I think it benefits both parties. They get to experience us, and we get to experience being around a family."

The Pooles have been hosting San Jose Giants players for five seasons. In fact, baseball is a family tradition. Denise Poole grew up a San Jose Giants fan like her father, and the Pooles' sons Justin and Ryan work concessions, barbecue and the cotton candy booth at the ballpark. So, having a ballplayer in the house isn't much trouble, Denise says.

The only adjustment the family had to make was asking Ryan to give his room to a player one season. At first Ryan didn't mind, because he was much younger then, Denise explains. Today, the Pooles have an extra room for the players.

The Giants' host family program began in 1980 and is rooted in the ball club's belief that young players far from home are better off living with families than on their own. They benefit from an environment that fosters family life, such as getting home-cooked meals and having someone to talk to, says Linda Pereira, Giants sales manager and coordinator of the host program.

It's Pereira's job to match players with families. She's become so successful at convincing families to share their homes for free that this year she has a waiting list. "There's so many player changes that everybody will still get somebody," Pereira says.

One woman, who doesn't host a player right now, is looking for a Spanish-speaking player because her children go to bilingual school, and she would like them to practice their Spanish.

Some players have special needs. For instance, Pat Dobson, a 24-year-old outfielder and first baseman from Santa Barbara, is allergic to cats. "Five seconds after I walked in the door, my face swelled up," Dobson remembers of one of the first families he was matched with. This season, Dobson boards with the Varteressian family in Saratoga, a feline-free household.

Armen and Laura Varteressian have hosted more than 20 players since 1991, including major leaguers Joe Nathan, an all-star with the Minnesota Twins, and San Francisco Giants player Noah Lowry. They began hosting players when their daughter was 11 and their son was 8. "For [our kids], it was like having a big brother," Armen says.

Pereira admits that while she has a knack for placing players with the right families, not all her matches are made in heaven. A few years ago, she placed a player with the team's matron saint, Nettie Rappe, who hosted 48 players before her death a few years ago. When Rappe informed Pereira that the player had been rude, Pereira dismissed him from the house. And when he returned to San Jose as a visiting player the following year, the Giants made him the designated 'beer batter.'

At every home game, the team chooses an opposing player to be the beer batter. If that player strikes out, the park sells beer half-price for 15 minutes. The ex-Giant was the beer batter for three straight days and struck out nine times, to the delight of the jeering crowd.

Regardless of the smaller details involved in matching families with players, Pereira's overriding goal is to find hosts that will treat players like family members and not tenants.

"These guys are hungry for a little attention and affection," Pereira says. "Even though they're big baseball players, the home environment is pretty much where it's at."

At times it can be awkward for the players to live with new people, especially during the first few days. "The first week that you're in someone else's home, it's kind of weird," Broshuis says. Players aren't sure if there are house rules, such as whether it's okay for them to help themselves to stuff in the refrigerator or watch certain shows on television.

The only hard and fast rule is that single players are not allowed to have women spend the night--this rule is strongly enforced by the host program.

While Broshuis admits both parties are, on a certain level, strangers at first, he says players have to trust that if someone is comfortable with you coming into your family, they're going to be nice, genuine people.

Having "goodness in your heart" is one of the main reasons local families participate in the program, Pereira says.

This goodness goes a long way, particularly during awkward moments. Dobson recalls spilling syrup all over the Varteressians' kitchen floor the first day of his stay. The family made light of the situation, and as a joke, Armen posted 'E3' on the door of Dobson's room. E3 is baseball code for 'error by first baseman.'

The pets are always interesting, said Broshuis. "My host family has three dogs and a couple of cats. Whenever I come in late at all, the dogs bark like crazy, so I'm always caught. A week or two ago, I came downstairs after I woke up, and a little rat terrier was barking and biting at my ankle. I don't know where it came from."

Mishaps do happen, but host families and players seem to like the arrangement.

"It's awesome if you're lucky enough to get a host family that treats you like an extended family," Dobson says.

Acting as surrogate parents to their guest players is a role Kelly and Roger Carter, of Santa Clara, take seriously. Like good parents, the Carters attend every game. "You want to see them succeed and make it to 'the show', " Kelly says. She and Roger currently host Giants catcher Brian Munhall, of Spokane, Wash. "We do worry about them, we do fret over them, and we do celebrate with them when they're doing well," Kelly says.

Sharing in the players' triumphs doesn't go without sharing in their disappointments. Few minor leaguers ever reach the majors, and teams demote or release Class A players all the time. For host families, counseling the heartbroken goes with the territory.

The McDowells know this scene all too well. They once hosted a player who was demoted after only six weeks.

"We were heartbroken," Pauline says. The demotion sent him packing, and after one month, the Giants brought him back. "It's like having a member of the family go away for awhile [and then return]," Pauline says.

Host families are used to seeing their guest players come and go during and between the season. They also understand that being on the road does get lonely and is often the cause for romantic breakups.

Over the course of hosting players for 16 years, the McDowells have seen two players through broken wedding engagements and have listened to many others threaten to leave baseball to win back the women who left them over the game.

Aside from creating a family-like atmosphere, host families also make it possible for players to live on the cheap--for free in fact. Minor-leaguers only make about $1,250 a month and are unable to buy homes or rent apartments in the Bay Area. In return for providing a safe haven, host families receive free season passes.

When baseball season ends, each host family says their good-byes and waits until the following year for their guest to return or to host a new player. And in many cases the bond between the families and players continues long after the season. The Varteressians keep in touch with a former guest player who, after he reached the majors, returned to attend their daughter's wedding.

Most host families agree that with very few exceptions, the young men they've hosted have made fine housemates

"It is total joy," says Ned Lee, a host and a Superior Court judge in Santa Clara County. "You get to see these guys who are so committed to the game and so committed to their futures ... it's all on the line for each of them, every day. They are living the dream. How many of us really do that?"