In the eyes of Natalia Molina and longtime Mexican American, the crowning moment of the World Series did not happen during the tense final game last Saturday, when her team pulled off one dramatic escape feat after another and then winning in overtime over the Toronto Blue Jays.
It came in the previous game, when two supporting athletes, the Puerto Rican player and the Venezuelan infielder, executed a thrilling, decisive sequence that at the same time challenged many harmful misconceptions touted about Latinos in recent years.
The moment in itself was breathtaking: the outfielder charged in from the outfield to snag a ball he at first lost in the bright lights, then fired it to the infield to secure another, game-winning out. Rojas, positioned nearby, caught the ball moments before a runner collided with him, sending him to the ground.
This was not just a remarkable athletic achievement, perhaps the key shift in momentum in the team's favor after looking for much of the series like the underdog side. For Molina, it was exhilarating, politically and culturally, a badly needed morale boost for the community and for the city after a period of immigration raids, troops patrolling the neighborhoods, and a steady drumbeat of negativity from official sources.
"The players presented this alternative story," said the professor. "The world witnessed Latinos displaying an infectious pride and joy in what they do, acting as key figures on the team, having a different kind of masculinity. They're bombastic, they're yelling, they're removing their shirts."
"This represented such a juxtaposition with what we see on the news – raids, Latinos thrown to the ground and chased down. It's so easy to be demoralized these days."
However, it's exactly straightforward to be a team supporter these days – for her or for the many of other fans who attend regularly to matches and occupy as many as half of the venue's fifty thousand seats per game.
When aggressive enforcement operations began in the city in early June, and military troops were sent into the area to respond to resulting demonstrations, two of the city's soccer teams quickly released messages of support with immigrant families – while the baseball team.
Management has said the Dodgers want to stay away of politics – a stance colored, possibly, by the reality that a sizable minority of the fans, even Latinos, are followers of certain political figures. Under significant public pressure, the team subsequently committed $1m in aid for individuals personally affected by the raids but made no public condemnation of the government.
Three months earlier, the organization did not hesitate in agreeing to an offer to mark their previous championship victory at the official residence – a decision that sports writers labeled as "disappointing … weak … and contradictory", considering the Dodgers' pride in having been the first major league franchise to break the racial segregation in the 1940s and the frequent references of that history and the principles it represents by officials and present and past players. Several team members including the manager had expressed reluctance to go to the White House during the first term but then reconsidered or gave in to pressure from the organization.
An additional issue for fans is that the team are owned by a corporate behemoth, Guggenheim Partners, whose equity holdings, according to sources and its own published financial documents, involve a stake in a private prison company that operates enforcement facilities. Guggenheim's executives has stated repeatedly that it wants to stay out of political matters, but its detractors say the silence – and the financial stake – are their own form of compliance to current agendas.
These factors add up to considerable mixed feelings among Latino fans in particular – sentiments that surfaced even in the euphoria of this year's hard-fought World Series victory and the following outpouring of team support across the city.
"Is it okay to root for the team?" area columnist one observer reflected at the start of the playoffs in an elegant essay ruminating on "team loyalty in our veins, but uncertainty in our minds". Galindo couldn't ultimately bring himself to watch the championship, but he still felt strongly, to the point that he decided his personal boycott must have brought the squad the luck it needed to win.
Numerous fans who have Galindo's reservations appear to have decided that they can continue to back the team and its lineup of international players, featuring the Japanese superstar Shohei Ohtani, while pouring scorn on the team's business overlords. Nowhere was this more clear than at the victory celebration at the home venue on the following day, when the packed audience roared in approval of the manager and his players but booed the team president and the top official of the ownership group.
"The executives in formal attire do not get to take our boys in blue from us," the fan said. "We've been with the team longer than they have."
The problem, however, runs deeper than just the organization's present owners. The deal that moved the Brooklyn Dodgers to the city in the 1950s required the city demolishing three working-class Latino neighborhoods on a elevated area above the city center and then transferring the property to the team for a fraction of its actual worth. A track on a 2005 album that documents the events has an low-income worker at the venue stating that the house he lost to removal is now third base.
Gustavo Arellano, possibly southern California most widely followed Mexican American writer and broadcaster, sees a more troubling side to the lengthy, problematic dynamic between the franchise and its fanbase. He describes the Dodgers the Flamin' Hot Cheetos of baseball, "a business organization with an excessive, even unhealthy devotion by numerous Latinos" that has been exploiting its supporters for years.
"They've put one arm around Hispanic fans while picking their pockets with the other for so much time because they have been able to avoid consequences," the writer wrote over the warmer months, when demands to boycott the organization over its absence of reaction to the raids were contradicted by the awkward fact that turnout at home games remained steady, even at the peak of the protests when downtown LA was under to a evening curfew.
Separating the team from its business leadership is not a easy matter, {
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