Holiday in Mexicali

By David Marasco

The day after Christmas I was south of the border for a double header between the Mexicali Aguilas and the Navojoa Mayos of the Mexican Pacific League. La Liga Mexicana del Pacifico is a part of Caribbean Winter baseball along with leagues in Puerto Rico, Venezuela and the Dominican Republic. This trip involved a flight to San Diego and then a drive to Calexico on the American side of the fence. From the crossing point it was a medium-distance walk to the stadium.

When I arrived I discovered that I was late. I had assumed that the schedule I had read had the game times printed in the local time zone. This was not the case, stupid misunderstandings being a risk you take when you read a document not in your mother tongue. In the end this was probably a blessing. I decided that trying to keep a scorebook for this half-completed game was impossible, so I just sat back and watched. When you keep score to tend to be in a more analytical frame of mind, but when you sit back you get a different view. As Yogi once said, "You can observe a lot by watching."

I paid 60 pesos (a little less than $6.50) for a front row seat on the infield. The first thing I noticed was the poor condition of the grass. Then again, I can say the same thing about my first visit to Fenway Park, and Boston isn't in the middle of a desert. The stadium itself is double-decked on the infield, with bleachers extending down the lines. Before the current craze of dumping money into new-fangled minor league ballparks, this would have placed as a good high-minors yard. It seats roughly ten thousand. There is lots of advertising in the outfield. In fact, beyond the wall is another wall about a billboard in height extending from foul pole to foul pole. It is completely covered with commercials promoting goods and services. The only breaks are a scoreboard and a bigscreen television. The Aguilas' relationship with the San Diego Padres is noted by ads next to the bigscreen. A quick scan of the crowd revealed that San Diego was the major league team best represented by hats, jackets and jerseys.

It was hard for me to judge the level of play. Part of this was that my eye was "out of season," it's been out of practice for several months. There were a few familiar names in the lineups, the most prominent being Curtis Pride batting in the five slot for the Mayos. The crowd was impressed by any long drive to the outfield, but I'm unsure if this indicates a lack of power hitting in the league, or simply due to the fact that it was a deviation from the littleball tactics that the teams practiced. The bunting was well executed for the most part, and there were some real bang-bang plays on defense. While the double header featured seven inning contests, a signature of minor league baseball, four umpires were deployed, something not seen in the lower levels of the minors. I saw only one bush league play the entire night.

It was a very friendly crowd. I encountered the same problem I had in Japan. When I leave the United States I blend in well with the natives. In Chicago I usually blow off strangers who want to hassle me by waving my hands and claiming "No habla Ingles," but in this case it worked backwards. Everyone spoke Spanish to me and I had to explain that I only spoke English. Amazingly enough I was still able to talk ball with a mixture of pidgin Spanish, pidgin English and pantomime. In the second game I discovered the magic of the scorecard. Juan, who was sitting next to me, missed two innings in a hot dog line. Just by gesturing at a bunch of squiggles on a piece of paper I was able to catch him up on exactly what he missed. I've always been impressed that so much information could be stored in such a compact form. But I'd never realized that the notation should properly be recognized as an ideogrammatic writing in its own right, able to act as a Rosetta stone between different languages.

The Mayos took the first game by a final of 5-2. The second game was a real nail-biter. The Mayos got on the board in the first inning, powered by Mauricio Zazueta's dinger to right center. With only one out and a run already in, Mexicali's starter was rattled. He walked Morgan Burkhart and gave up a single to Virgil Chevalier. But he gobbled up a Pride comebacker and nailed the runner at third, and then got out of the inning with a foul out.

The Mayos ran themselves out of a good rally in the second . Ricardo Saenz drew a leadoff walk and ried to take third on Mario Santana's stroke to left. He was gunned down by Sergio Gastelum's throw from the outfield. Later Santana was caught stealing. Despite a hit and a walk it was a 1-2-3 inning. The Aguilas tossed around the leather again in the third. With two on and one out Chevalier lined one to J.C. Hernandez at third. Hernandez gloved the rocket and caught Ryan Christianson leaning off of second for a neat double play.

As it was a seven inning affair we had a sixth inning stretch. They played "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" but of course all the words were in Spanish. I have no idea how close the translation was, but it was neat to hear it in a different language. This brought me back to earlier this year when I was at Shea and Rey Ordonez butchered a play. In front of me, to my left and behind me guys turned to their friends and said words to the effect of "Rey sucks" in Chinese, Spanish and German.

It wasn't until the home half of the sixth that the Aguilas were able to put together a true rally. The Mayos pitcher was tiring and his last offering plunked Eduardo Jimenez. Navojoa went to its bullpen. The announcement of the "Call to the Bullpen" was sponsored on the bigscreen by TelMex, the phone company. A creeping Americanism. To the taunts of "Free Willie" a very large reliever strolled to the mound. The crowd was a little less jovial when they saw that he could bring the heat. His control was a bit off, he walked Dusty Allen in five pitches. But then the Mayos proved that they too could turn the sharp play on defense when first baseman Burkhart robbed Ryan Balfe of extra bases down the line.

Navojoa went down quietly in the top of the seventh, and it looked like Mexicali would not put up much of a fight in their final frame. The bottom of the order came to bat, and the first two men were retired. But then there was a slight glimmer of hope when Grimaldo Martinez laced a double to right. Gastelum walked to put the go-ahead runner on. Sadly the rally was quashed when Ray Martinez popped up to first. Burkhart never gloved the ball because Martinez ran through him, the bush play I had mentioned earlier. But the umpire made the correct call and the game was over.

The best part of the experience was the fans. It is nice to know that somewhere in the world there is a crowd that knows how and when to cheer without being prompted by a scoreboard. Perhaps it is only the maniacs who come out the day after Christmas, but if that is the case, then there are a lot of them. There were also many children, but instead of playing with Pokemon most were paying attention to the game. Looking at what people were wearing, most had old clothes that had been patched or otherwise repaired, but many sported very nice Aguilas jackets and caps, obviously very proud of their team.

Overall I had the feeling that this was what the minors must have been like in their glory days. No, the game did not feature play at its highest level. But it did incorporate all of the good things you come to associate with the minor league. The stands were close to the playing field. In between the games the players waited in food lines just like regular folks. No millionaire crybabies here. While you can find all of these things in the minors, this edition had something extra. In today's game the minors act as a developmental platform for the bigs. The win-loss record isn't as important as the number of blue-chippers that are cranked out. But not here. While some of the teams do get prospects on loan from major league franchises, the teams' goal is to win. Because of this you'll see a good mix of veterans with solid know-how, and major leaguers on their way back down. While I felt that the talent level wasn't particularly high, I was very impressed at how well-honed the skills were. This makes sense. A 30-year-old shortstop will be culled from the minors to make space for a younger fee-nom, even if the older player is a damn good AAA player and the kid is very raw. The big club doesn't care how good the veteran's talents are, they just know that it is a better investment for them to give the youngster his playing time. In this league the best shortstop gets the job. In the end this gives a minor league atmosphere with a pretty good caliber of play.

The final verdict? Baseball is baseball in every language and every land. Peace on Earth and Good Will to All.