For Natalia Molina and longtime Mexican American, the most memorable highlight of the World Series didn't happen during the tense finale on Saturday, when her team executed one death-defying escape feat after another before winning in extra innings over the Toronto Blue Jays.
It happened in the previous game, when two supporting players, the Puerto Rican player and Miguel Rojas, executed a thrilling, decisive play that simultaneously challenged numerous negative stereotypes touted about Latinos in the past decades.
The play itself was breathtaking: Hernández raced in from the outfield to snag a ball he at first misjudged in the bright lights, then threw it to second base to record another, decisive out. the second baseman, positioned nearby, caught the ball just a split second before a runner collided with him, knocking him backwards.
This wasn't merely a great sporting moment, possibly the key shift in the series in the team's direction after appearing for much of the games like the underdog side. To her, it was exhilarating, politically and culturally, a badly needed morale boost for the community and for Los Angeles after a period of enforcement actions, troops patrolling the streets, and a steady stream of criticism from national leaders.
"The players put forth this alternative story," said the professor. "The world saw Latinos showing an infectious pride and joy in what they do, being leaders on the team, exhibiting a distinct kind of masculinity. They are energetic, they're cheering, they're taking off their shirts."
"It was such a juxtaposition with what we see on the news – raids, Latinos detained and pursued. It's so easy to be disheartened right now."
However, it's entirely simple to be a Dodgers fan these days – for her or for the many of other fans who show up regularly to home games and occupy as many as 50% of the stadium's fifty thousand spots each time.
After aggressive enforcement operations began in Los Angeles in June, and military troops were deployed into the city to respond to ensuing protests, two of the city's sports clubs quickly issued statements of support with immigrant families – but not the baseball team.
Management has said the organization want to steer clear of political issues – a view colored, possibly, by the reality that a sizable minority of the fans, even Latinos, are followers of current political figures. After significant public pressure, the organization subsequently pledged $1m in aid for families directly affected by the raids but issued no public condemnation of the government.
Months before, the team did not delay in accepting an offer to mark their 2024 championship victory at the White House – a move that local writers described as "disappointing … spineless … and contradictory", given the Dodgers' pride in having been the pioneering professional franchise to end the color barrier in the 1940s and the frequent references of that legacy and the values it embodies by officials and present and former players. A number of team members such as the coach had voiced unwillingness to go to the event during the initial period but either reconsidered or gave in to pressure from team management.
A further complication for fans is that the team are controlled by a corporate behemoth, Guggenheim Partners, whose equity holdings, according to media reports and its own released financial documents, include a share in a private prison corporation that runs enforcement facilities. Guggenheim's executives has stated repeatedly that it aims to remain neutral of politics, but its detractors say the silence – and the financial stake – are their own type of compliance to certain policies.
These factors add up to considerable mixed feelings among Hispanic supporters in particular – feelings that surfaced even in the excitement of this year's hard-won championship triumph and the ensuing outpouring of Dodgers pride across the city.
"Can one to support the Dodgers?" local writer Erick Galindo agonized at the start of the playoffs in an thoughtful essay pondering on "team loyalty in our veins, but uncertainty in our hearts". Galindo couldn't ultimately bring himself to watch the World Series, but he still cared strongly, to the extent that he believed his personal boycott must have brought the team the luck it required to succeed.
Numerous supporters who have similar reservations seem to have concluded that they can continue to back the players and its roster of international stars, including the Japanese megastar Shohei Ohtani, while pouring scorn on the team's business overlords. At no place was this more evident than at the victory celebration at the home venue on the following day, when the capacity crowd cheered in approval of the coach and his players but booed the executive and the top official of the investors.
"The executives in suits do not get to claim our players from us," the fan said. "We have been with the team longer than they have."
The issue, however, runs deeper than just the team's present owners. The agreement that moved the former franchise to the city in the 1950s required the municipality razing three working-class Latino neighborhoods on a elevated area overlooking downtown and then selling the property to the organization for a small part of its actual worth. A song on a 2005 record that chronicles the events has an impoverished parking attendant at the venue stating that the home he lost to removal is now third base.
Gustavo Arellano, possibly southern California most influential Latino columnist and broadcaster, sees a darker side to the long, dysfunctional dynamic between the franchise and its audience. He calls the team the Flamin' Hot Cheetos of baseball, "a corporate entity with an excessive, even unhealthy devotion by numerous Latinos" that has been shortchanging its fans for decades.
"They've acted around Hispanic followers while profiting from them with the other for so long because they have been able to avoid consequences," Arellano noted over the warmer months, when calls to boycott the team over its lack of reaction to the enforcement actions were upended by the uncomfortable fact that attendance at matches did not dip, even at the height of the protests when the city center was under to a nightly restriction.
Distinguishing the squad from its corporate owners is not a simple matter, {
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