In the eyes of a lifelong Dodgers fan and third-generation Mexican American, the crowning moment of the World Series did not occur during the nail-biting finale last Saturday, when her squad executed one dramatic comeback act after another before winning in extra innings over the opposing team.
It happened a game earlier, when two supporting athletes, Kike Hernández and the Venezuelan infielder, executed a thrilling, decisive sequence that at the same time upended numerous negative stereotypes touted about Hispanic people in recent decades.
The moment in itself was breathtaking: Hernández raced in from left field to catch a ball he at first misjudged in the bright lights, then fired it to second base to record another, game-winning out. Rojas, at second base, caught the ball moments before a runner barreled into him, knocking him to the ground.
This was not merely a great sporting achievement, perhaps the decisive turn in momentum in the team's favor after appearing for most of the series like the underdog team. For Molina, it was exhilarating, politically and culturally, a badly needed uplift for Latinos and for Los Angeles after a period of enforcement actions, security forces monitoring the streets, and a constant drumbeat of negativity from national leaders.
"The players put forth this counter-narrative," explained Molina. "Everyone saw Latinos showing an contagious pride and joy in what they do, being key figures on the team, exhibiting a distinct kind of masculinity. They're energetic, they're yelling, they're taking off their shirts."
"It was such a juxtaposition with what we observe on the news – raids, Latinos detained and pursued. It is so easy to be demoralized right now."
However, it's entirely straightforward to be a Dodgers supporter these days – for her or for the many of other Latinos who attend regularly to home games and fill up as many as 50% of the venue's fifty thousand spots each time.
After intensified enforcement operations began in Los Angeles in early June, and national guard troops were sent into the area to respond to ensuing protests, two of the local sports clubs promptly released statements of solidarity with affected communities – but not the baseball team.
The team president stated the organization want to steer clear of politics – a stance colored, perhaps, by the reality that a significant minority of the supporters, including Latinos, are supporters of current leaders. After considerable external demands, the team later pledged $one million in support for individuals directly impacted by the raids but made no official condemnation of the administration.
Three months before, the organization did not hesitate in accepting an invitation to mark their 2024 championship victory at the White House – a decision that local columnists described as "pathetic … weak … and contradictory", considering the team's pride in having been the pioneering professional team to end the color barrier in the mid-20th century and the frequent references of that legacy and the values it represents by officials and present and former players. Several team members such as the coach had expressed unwillingness to go to the White House during the initial period but then reconsidered or succumbed to demands from the organization.
An additional complication for fans is that the team are controlled by a corporate behemoth, Guggenheim Partners, whose equity holdings, as per media reports and its own published financial documents, include a share in a private prison company that operates detention centers. The group's executives has stated many times that it wants to remain neutral of politics, but its critics say the silence – and the financial stake – are their own form of compliance to certain policies.
These factors contribute to considerable conflicted emotions among Latino supporters in especial – feelings that surfaced even in the euphoria of this season's hard-won championship victory and the ensuing outpouring of team support across the city.
"Is it okay to root for the team?" area writer Erick Galindo reflected at the beginning of the postseason in an thoughtful essay pondering on "Dodger blue in our veins, but uncertainty in our hearts". Galindo was unable to finally bring himself to view the championship, but he still cared deeply, to the point that he believed his one-man boycott must have brought the team the luck it needed to succeed.
Many fans who share Galindo's misgivings seem to have decided that they can keep to support the team and its roster of international players, including 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 Dodger Stadium on the following day, when the packed audience cheered in support of the coach and his players but jeered the team president and the top official of the ownership group.
"These men in suits don't get to claim our players from us," Molina said. "We've been with the team longer than they have."
The problem, however, runs deeper than just the organization's current owners. The agreement that brought the Brooklyn Dodgers to Los Angeles in the 1950s required the city razing three low-income Latino communities on a hill above the city center and then selling the land to the team for a small part of its actual worth. A track on a mid-2000s record that chronicles the story has an impoverished parking attendant at the venue stating that the house he lost to removal is now a part of the field.
A prominent commentator, possibly southern California most widely followed Latino columnist and media personality, sees a darker side to the long, problematic relationship between the franchise and its audience. He describes the Dodgers the Flamin' Hot Cheetos of baseball, "a business organization with an undue, even harmful following by too many Latinos" that has been shortchanging its fans for years.
"They've acted around Latino followers while picking their pockets with the other hand for so much time because they have been able to avoid consequences," the writer noted over the summer, when calls to boycott the team over its absence of reaction to the enforcement actions were upended by the awkward fact that attendance at home games did not dip, even at the height of the protests when the city center was under to a evening curfew.
Separating the team from its corporate owners is not a simple matter, {
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