Baseball’s “Puppy Mill”?: ‘Pelotero’ and the Dominican Connection
by David J. Leonard | NewBlackMan (in Exile)
Sports films are a staple within American culture. From the Hollywood imagination to documentaries, there has been a longstanding interest in sporting cultures. Offering a window into fundamental American tropes and ideologies – meritocracy; bootstraps; rages to riches; the American Dream – sports films fill the insatiable desire for stories of perseverance, redemption, and possibility. Pelotero, a new documentary narrated by John Leguizamo, enters into this larger cultural landscape, highlighting the dreams and nightmares of global baseball.
Pelotero sets out to answer a simple yet immensely complex question: how can a country the size of the Dominican Republic, with only 2% of the population of the United States, produce so many professional baseball players? In 2010, 86 of MLB’s 833 players come from the Dominican Republic; almost 25% of the 7,000 minor league players hailed from this nation of 9.7 million people. The film’s directors, Ross Finkel, Jon Paley, and Trevor Martin describe their goal as follows:
The central question behind Pelotero was a simple one: Why are Dominicans so good at baseball? The tiny island nation is consistently overrepresented in the Major Leagues, and as America’s pastime continues to globalize, every year brings a fresh crop of young Dominican Peloteros to the top levels of the game. We had a romantic image of these players’ humble beginnings etched in our minds; poor kids chasing rolled up socks through dusty streets as motorbikes whizzed by. However, that vision of street ball felt disconnected to another romantic idea of Dominican baseball; Big Papi, Sammy Sosa, or Robinson Cano slowly trotting around the bases under the bright lights and cheering fans of a big league ballpark. How does one lead to the other? And what is the story in between the two?
Eschewing cultural arguments, those that emphasize role models and “the single-minded pursuit of baseball” and theories that harken Social Darwinism, Pelotero highlights the social, political and economic contexts that funnel Dominican youth into the professional ranks.
With only two offices throughout the world, one in New York City and the other in Dominican Republic, it is clear that Major League Baseball has focused its efforts on developing future players. The desperation and poverty facing those in the Dominican Republic and throughout the Caribbean and Latin America has produced conditions ripe for American corporations taking advantage of this potential labor force, ultimately exploiting workers (players) inside and outside the United States. The establishment of “schools” – baseball’s sweatshops that produce its raw materials – has exacerbated this process.
Beyond filling the League with talented ball players, Major League Baseball teams use the “third world” because the “raw materials” (the players) are cheap. Dick Balderson, a vice-president of the Colorado Rockies, called this process a “boatload mentality.” The idea behind this approach is to sign a "boatload" of Latin players for less money, knowing that if only a couple make it to the big leagues, teams will still profit from the relationship. “Instead of signing four [American] guys at $25,000 each, you sign 20 [Dominican] guys for $5,000 each.” The desperation and poverty facing those in Latin America is facilitating this “single-minded” pursuit of sports, creating a situation where professional baseball teams are able exploit this labor force.
Charles S. Farrell, who is the former director of Jesse Jackson’s Rainbow Sports, described the dangerous predicament facing youth in the Dominican Republic:
Baseball is mainly the sport of the poor in the Dominican Republic, and viewed by so many as a way to escape poverty. Mothers and fathers put a glove on boys as soon as they can walk in order to pursue the dream of la vida buena.
But with every dream there are dream merchants, those who promise to pave a path to glory and riches for a price. The buscónes, as they are known, latch onto prospects at an early age, giving them advice and consul on how best to pursue the dream. Some are genuine in their mission; others simply hook into a potential meal ticket. Either way, good or bad, the buscónes have become a part of the Dominican baseball scene.
Pelotero highlights the consequences of the overdevelopment of the institutions of baseball alongside the underdevelopment of society at large (thanks in part to the polices of the IMF and World Bank). It elucidates how everyone from scouts to the teams themselves take advantage of the limited economic opportunities, the manipulated (unfree) marketplace, and the imported American Dream to get young 13 and 14 year olds to work hard so that maybe their parents can have a better life. Reduced to commodity, the efforts to sell a dream, a future, and most powerfully freedom/independence (signing day is July 2) to the players and their families are crucial in maintaining this exploitative system. One respondent in the film describes the ways that baseball views these young men: “It’s like when you harvest the land, you put seed on the land, you water it, you clear, and then when it grows, you sell it.”
Sean Gregory aptly described the exploitative approach of professional baseball teams, which take advantage of poverty, inequality, and the dreams of riches in the Dominican Republic and elsewhere.
The D.R. is baseball's puppy mill. The buscónes develop and sometimes feed and house these teenage players, with the intent of selling them to the highest bidder, a major league team willing to fork over thousands, if not millions, of dollars to secure a prospect. As a reward for their work, buscones typically pocket 25% to 50% of the prospect's signing bonus. Many folks in the Dominican Republic resent being labeled a buscón because of the term's other connotation: swindler.
A dead cockroach the size of a catcher's mitt rests on the side of the stairway. Papiro ushers me into an apartment that is a comfortable fit for no one yet lodges five of his pupils, all from 15 to 18 years old. In the "living room," there's not a single furnishing other than a few plastic chairs. The light doesn't work in one bedroom, and in another, a crater in the floor could swallow you whole. Only air drips from the kitchen sink. Papiro shows off the "terrace": it's a crunched, pitch-black walkway that houses a heap of trash. (See the top 10 worst MLB all-stars.)
In a country as poor as the Dominican Republic, these quarters are an upgrade for many impoverished teenage boys. Still, even Papiro knows the place isn't pretty. That's by design. First and foremost, Papiro is an investor. And if these hopefuls don't work hard and sign a contract, he'll lose money. "If you make things too comfortable, in the morning they'll never wake up," says Papiro, through an interpreter. "I'll give them vitamins and food. But no comfort."
While in many ways replicating the appeal of the “rags to riches narrative,” Pelotero puts the practices of Major League Baseball and its partners under a microscope illustrating that while some Dominicans do make it, they do so in spite of abuses, mistreatment, and exploitation. The film, in fact, follows two individuals who suffer greatly because of baseball quest to get the best talent for the least amount of money.
In recent years the signing bonuses commanded by Dominican players has increased tremendously; whereas Miguel Tejada, Vladamir and David Ortiz each signed for less than $4,000 dollars, Michael Inoa commanded a 4.25 million dollar bonus in 2008, setting a benchmark for future players. This is where Pelotero enters into the story of baseball in the Dominican Republic. With a changing economic landscape, baseball teams have sought to minimize their costs.
For example, Miguel Angel Sano, a once-in-a-generation talent, sought a bonus beyond that of Inoa. As signing day approached, Sano’s path to the American Dream turned into a nightmare as rumors of age fraud led to an investigation. He is forced to provide urine and fecal samples; he provides doctors with his blood and is subjected to a bone scan. In an effort to prove his age, he even undergoes a DNA a test; yet as the system is working against him, as rumors are spread, as he is unable to freely negotiate with every team, his potential bonuses declines precipitously. He is treated like a criminal and has to prove his innocence to MLB, even as teams have an incentive to spread rumors because ultimately rumors of steroid use or false age lessens the cost to teams.
We can also see this with the film’s second storyline, that of Jean Carlos Batista. A very good player, Batista searches for the best possible deal. Unwilling to sign a contract that he feels is beneath him, he ultimately confronts a future without any contract offer. He too faces an investigation from MLB about his age. Although MLB baseball perpetuates a culture of steroids and encourages Dominican kids to lie about their ages – they want guys who are young but who play like men – it is the players who suffer the consequences. We learn that Batista’s age was not accurately represented leaving him with a one-year suspension. Yet again, this works in favor of the organization because he is signed for cheaper.
What Pelotero highlights is the vast ways that baseball not only preys on the conditions of the Dominican Republic for future all-stars, but also manipulates the rules of the game to the benefit of the teams rather than the players. A powerful examination of globalization and the exploitation, criminalization, and power-differentials at work, Pelotero also replicates the hegemonic narrative of sports as economic opportunity, as escalator out of poverty and despair.
While Miguel Angel and Juan Carlos each face unfair conditions, unscrupulous individuals, and a rocky road, Pelotero ultimately chronicles the story of two young men who find riches (Miguel signs for a 3.15 million bonus; Juan Carlos gets six figure bonus), who convert their hard work and talent into economic freedom. Only 2% of Dominican players make it to “The Show,” a fact that is masked in Pelotero. Yes, there is exploitation, yes there is abuse, yes the market isn’t free, all of which is visible with the storiesMiguel Angel and Juan Carlos, but they ultimately get paid. Too many Dominicans live under these same exploitative and abuse conditions, enduring untreated injuries, and never “make it.” This too is the story of the Dominican Republic.
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David J. Leonard is Associate Professor in the Department of Critical Culture, Gender and Race Studies at Washington State University, Pullman. He has written on sport, video games, film, and social movements, appearing in both popular and academic mediums. His work explores the political economy of popular culture, examining the interplay between racism, state violence, and popular representations through contextual, textual, and subtextual analysis. Leonard’s latest book After Artest: Race and the Assault on Blackness was just published by SUNY Press in May of 2012.
