On this night near the Dominican's southeastern shoreline, however, peace reigned. Tejada, the Baltimore Orioles' powerful shortstop, was slowly sipping a mix of scotch and an energy drink. He shared with two foreign visitors. Oddly, it went down easy with a couple of cubes of ice and a plate full of spaghetti, spicy marinara sauce and grilled red onions. A young woman in the kitchen, the companion of Tejada's elderly father, was dishing it up for the men playing dominoes. "Dominican food," Tejada said.
After a Dominican player strikes gold in the major leagues, he typically builds a small fiefdom in his hometown. If the player is generous, he becomes the local charity. Guerrero and Tejada tote back home bags stuffed with balls, bats and clothes each fall. Tejada and Bartolo Colon are building stadiums for their hometowns. According to some experts, players pump far too much money into baseball facilities and not enough into helping build up the country's faltering education system
. Tejada's stadium was due to open soon, and he was planning an all-star softball game. This night, Dec. 16, he was sending out invitations to most of the island's best players. The Boston Red Sox's David Ortiz and several others had already said they would be there. "They'll all be there, because it's Tejada," said Virgilio Rojo, a Dominican baseball official. "Everybody likes Miguel." Tejada, Colon and Guerrero are among the most popular major leaguers here. Dominicans say they are sencillo, simple, meaning that success hasn't made them forget their roots.
A NARROW PIPELINE Dominican talent continues to power the major leagues, even as teams seek new sources of cheap young players in nearby countries such as Venezuela, Mexico, Cuba and Panama. On the Angels' 2004 division title team, the best player, Guerrero, the best starting pitcher, Colon, and the No. 2 run producer, Guillen, all came from this island. So did spot starter Ramon Ortiz and several of the club's top prospects. Most teams mine the island's talent with shiny academies that dot the southern coast. The Angels' is in San Pedro de Macoris. The Dodgers were one of the first to tap this lode with their academy in Campo Las Palmas, near Santo Domingo. With all the scouts about, boys here grab at mirages, hoping they can be the next Sammy Sosa, Tejada or Guerrero. That mentality can be a dangerous trap, according to some who study breakdowns in the Dominican education system.
"Sometimes you wish there was more than just baseball here," said New York Mets general manager Omar Minaya, the game's first Dominican general manager.
Harvard public-policy professor Robert Jensen conducted a study financed by Dominican President Leonel Fernandez a few years ago. He found that baseball isn't just a pipe dream here, it's a dangerous illusion. While the Dominican Republic is essentially a middle-class country by Latin American standards, it has a terrible record of keeping kids in school. About 29 percent of Dominican children reach high school, according to the United Nations. Jensen and his colleagues interviewed thousands of Dominican children to find out why so many of them drop out. One in four boys said he wanted to be a baseball player.
"Baseball is just ruining these kids' lives," Jensen said. "It's the classic thing. They say, 'Look, if I stay home and do my homework, I'm not out there practicing baseball.' They see these baseball guys making so much money. It's like the U.S. The people who spend the most on lottery tickets are the poorest."
For kids who drop out of school intent on playing professional baseball, a more likely fate is the sugar-cane fields and a future built on $10 a day.
Where dreams are all people have, they die hard.
