Some days you're just not meant to play

I’m in the Dominican Republic where the main exports are sugar and baseball players, but until two weekends ago I had not even seen a game of catch, a serious problem that I had to remedy. My two host brothers Ali and Nata play on a softball team with Pedrito (interestingly enough, he’s the oldest of the Pedro sons) and I asked to tag along one Saturday. Honestly, I could care less about the actual sport, be it baseball or softball. In general, I seem to not be very good at watching a sporting event. Yes, I know that being a spectator requires no agility, speed, or coordination. However, I, more often then not, am not watching when something exciting actually goes down. I’m the girl who turns her head and zones in right the split second when something thrilling happens and when the crowd starts cheering or ranting.

Since I like sporting events for the social atmosphere and food, I’m not too bothered that I’m limited to rec games and am missing the profession season, though I hear it’s quite intense and thus would be loads of fun.

At the Saturday game, I sat with fellow friends and family members of both teams. Since it was pretty recreational and there was only one patch of shade, we all sat together. I struck up a conversation with a kid who’s studying psychology in university and his younger cousin who was visiting from New York for the entire summer. While the ambiance was one of diversion and fun, I took note of the fact that the ump had a gun and decided that it would probably be a good idea not to challenge any of his calls even in jest!

The following day, the same team had an away game that they called a compartir (share). Essentially, this is when one team travels to the other’s field, they play, and then they share food afterward that the wives/girl friends of the home team have prepared. (Nota bene: This was the same Sunday when Chucho went to church and little Isael decided not to!)

At 8 AM we piled into the truck. Dad Isael, little Isael, Pedrito, and I all sat in the front and the rest of team/fans cozied down in the back with their bottle of rum. For added flavor, someone had added a mixture of various leaves and spices including cinnamon and the rum concoction looked like something you would have fished out of a river with a bucket. Our destination was in the mountains and we passed through some gorgeous terrain during our two-hour trip, crossing rivers (with and without bridges), and stopping to pick and enjoy mangos.

When we finally arrived at the stadium, I was quite impressed. It was a beautiful complex of several different fields complete with clean, cement bleachers and an open field of horses to the side. We piled out of the truck and while the players were suiting up, little Isael and I both bought some skimices (essentially an otter pop that uses thug penguins and mostly naked women for advertisement rather than Alexander the Grape and Little Orphan Orange). Right as I was finishing my popsicle, Nata received a call from the opponents and figured out that they were at the wrong field! So, we all piled back into the truck and drove another forty minutes to find the correct place, asking for directions all along the way. In general, Dominicans like to help and it’s not uncommon for someone to give you directions even if he has no idea where your actual destination is. Having been semi-lost a few times with my fellow gringos, it was a tad reassuring to know that Dominicans get lost too.

Our actual field was much smaller and less developed. While there was plenty of natural shade, there were no bleachers. Nonetheless, I was able to make myself a comfy seat using Nata’s bag and the sizable roots of a tree. Nestled in the mountains, the field provided a stunning view of the luscious, green terrain that continues to shock and amaze me.

About twenty minutes into our game, which was running several hours late, thunder cracked and it began to rain torrents, so we never finished the match. Instead, we all darted down the street to one of the large colmados where we played several hours of dominos and actualized the food sharing part of the compartir. With a full belly and an onset of drowsiness, Isael and I both conked out the long trip back. Though it did not go as planned, I was content with this summer Sunday.