Llévame al Juego de Pelota

And it’s root, root, root for the home team,
If we don’t win it’s a shame.

-- “Take Me Out To The Ball Game” (Norworth & Tilzer, 1908)

OK, let’s take a well-earned break from the trials and tribulations of moving to a new country, and talk about something that really matters: baseball!

I vividly remember, from our first trip to Oaxaca, a taxi ride during which we passed by a large stadium. The driver said, “That is where they play beísbol.” Baseball in Oaxaca? At that moment I pledged to someday take in a Mexican baseball game.

Scouring the internet for more info, I learned that Oaxaca’s team, Los Guerreros (The Warriors), are part of the Mexican Independent Baseball League, which is comprised of AAA-level teams from major cities throughout the country. It is divided into two divisions (Norte y Sur), but unlike its American minor league counterparts its teams are not affiliated with any Major League franchises.

Just before our move to Oaxaca I checked out the MiLB standings and discovered that the Guerreros were by far the worst in the league—18 games back in their division. This news saddened me, but as a longtime Seattle Mariners fan I am accustomed to suffering the inadequacies of my hometown baseball team. So on a pleasant evening in July, Martha and I walked to the stadium—which turned out to be surprisingly close to Temporary Apartment #2.

The Mexican hot dog

Estadio Eduardo Vasconcelos is a handsome little ballpark in the center of the city, whose upper-level seats afford nice views not only of the well-kept field but of the surrounding mountains as well. Tickets for the good seats (all are unreserved) go for 60 pesos — about 3 bucks. A Mexican hot dog (wrapped in bacon, of course) costs about half that. There are tacos (10 for a dollar) and other local favorites available for purchase from passing waiters and waitresses, along with Bloody Marys and the ubiquitous Tecate beer.

The Oaxaca Guerreros have not one, but two mascots. The most visible throughout the game was Nelson the Warrior, a lantern-jawed, musclebound character in vaguely Roman battle attire. He wandered about, posing with fans (including me) and exhorting us to cheer the team on to victory. But there was also Tato, a tall, bird-like entity with a red body, yellow beak and fright wig of brilliantly frizzy yellow hair. (I later asked the young women in the Team Store, where I bought my Guerreros cap, exactly what kind of bird Tato might be; they laughed and said that no one had a clue.)

With Nelson, mascot of the Oaxaca Guerreros

I had been worried about learning an entirely new glossary of Spanish baseball terms in order to appreciate the Mexican game, but I was proved largely wrong: many of the terms are similar, if not identical.

For example: home plate, bullpen, slider, sinker and homerun are all used in both languages, with suitable Spanish accent applied (“jonron”). Others are slightly different: first base, second base, third base are primera, segunda, y tercera base (bah-say), and a single, double and triple are sencillo, doble and triple respectively. The outfield is el jardín (the garden) and outfielders are known, charmingly, as jardineros: gardeners. (I was warmed by the thought of them out there between innings, fastidiously tending to their immaculate patches of green, green grass.)

Perhaps my favorite term of all is that of a strikeout, known here as un ponche (pone-chay) — the word looming large in fiery, all-capital letters on the big board when a pitcher “punches out” a batter. (For more Spanish baseball terms, please visit: http://pedasispanishschool.com/baseball-words-spanish/)

On this evening the Guerreros were set to square off against the Aguascalientes Rieleros (Railroaders). I had rechecked the standings and, inexplicably, a second season had begun; the Guerreros were now actually doing pretty well (2nd place in the Southern Division). As with most public spaces in Mexico, the ballpark is a noisy place, with a big, flashing electronic screen and raucous pop music. We climbed a bit higher in the stands for a better view of the field and the surrounding environs as the game got underway.

Through the top of the first the Guerreros’ starter looked shaky, giving up a couple of early runs before settling down.

The infield play was equally inept, although few of the several obvious errors were scored that way by the officials. As the game wore on, the Guerreros buckled down to tie the game at 3 runs apiece. We were caught a bit by surprise when, in the mid-7th, we were suddenly urged to take to our feet. “They have the 7th-Inning Stretch in Mexico!” I realized. “Will they sing a Spanish version of ‘Take Me Out To The Ballgame’?” Alas, no. Like our familiar Stretch Song it was a waltz, but instead of the rousing, rollicking chanty we know and love, this was a slower, more balladic number suffused with accordions and tinged with melancholy, as if the crowd were sad that the game was drawing to a close, or were simultaneously moved to mourn a lost love. I hurriedly tried to Shazam the music but came up empty-handed. Did they sing this sad song at all Mexican games, or was this one a strictly Oaxacan tradition?*

The Guerreros scored a run in the bottom of the 8th to take the lead, which they held onto for the win. The game-winning RBI was struck by none other than Yuniesky Betancourt—the once-hot Cuban prospect (and former Seattle Mariner) whose spotty MLB career fizzled out earlier than expected, and who is now playing out the final years of his career in relative obscurity in southern Mexico. At least on this pleasantly mild Oaxacan evening in early July, he had one more small taste of glory.

First clothing purchase in Oaxaca.

* The Song in Question. I subsequently learned that the song played during the 7th-inning stretch at Guerreros games is Mi Lindo Oaxaca (“My Lovely Oaxaca”) by Jacobo Kendis, whose lyrics are translated below.

Mi Linda Oaxaca
I'm so far away from you, the corner of daydreams and flowers,
The land where I was born, where my love dwells.

Oaxaca you live in me, and I'd give my life for you,
Listen to the anguish in my voice, that cries and sings, wanting to return.

Lovely Oaxaca of my soul, I don't want to die without seeing you again. 
The love that I'll carry, guarded like a treasure,
I'll never forget you, I adore you so much.

If I never see you again, my beloved Oaxaca,
Tell my lover, whose kisses I forever long for and are all that I want.