Elara is a seasoned software engineer and tech writer, passionate about demystifying complex technologies and sharing actionable advice.
For a lifelong Dodgers fan and longtime Mexican American, the most memorable moment of the World Series did not occur during the nail-biting finale on Saturday, when her team executed multiple dramatic comeback feat after another and then winning in overtime over the Toronto Blue Jays.
It happened in the previous game, when two second-tier athletes, the Puerto Rican player and Miguel Rojas, pulled off a electrifying, decisive sequence that simultaneously upended many negative misconceptions touted about Latinos in the past decades.
The moment in itself was stunning: Hernández charged in from the outfield to catch a ball he initially lost in the bright lights, then threw it to second base to record another, game-winning play. the second baseman, at second base, caught the ball just a split second before a runner collided with him, sending him to the ground.
This wasn't merely a remarkable athletic moment, perhaps the key turn in momentum in the Dodgers' direction after appearing for most of the games like the weaker side. For Molina, it was exhilarating, politically and culturally, a badly needed morale boost for the community and for Los Angeles after months of immigration raids, security forces monitoring the streets, and a steady drumbeat of negativity from official sources.
"The players put forth this alternative story," said the professor. "Everyone saw Latinos showing an contagious enthusiasm in what they do, acting as key figures on the team, exhibiting a different kind of masculinity. They're energetic, they're yelling, they're removing their shirts."
"This represented such a juxtaposition with what we see on the news – raids, Latinos thrown to the ground and chased down. It is so simple to be disheartened these days."
Not that it's entirely straightforward to be a Dodgers fan these days – for Molina or for the many of other Latinos who show up faithfully to home games and occupy as many as half of the stadium's 50,000 seats each time.
After aggressive immigration raids started in the city in early June, and military troops were sent into the area to react to resulting protests, two of the city's soccer clubs quickly issued statements of solidarity with immigrant families – while the baseball team.
The team president stated the Dodgers want to steer clear of politics – a stance colored, possibly, by the reality that a significant portion of the fans, even Latinos, are followers of certain political figures. Under significant external demands, the team later pledged $one million in support for families personally impacted by the raids but issued no official condemnation of the government.
Three months before, the team did not delay in accepting an invitation to celebrate their previous championship victory at the official residence – a decision that local columnists described as "pathetic … weak … and hypocritical", given the Dodgers' boast in having been the first professional team to end the racial segregation in the mid-20th century and the frequent invocations of that history and the principles it embodies by executives and present and past players. Several team members including the coach had voiced unwillingness to travel to the event during the first term but then reconsidered or succumbed to pressure from the organization.
A further complication for fans is that the Dodgers are owned by a corporate behemoth, Guggenheim Partners, whose investments, as per media reports and its own published balance sheets, involve a share in a private prison company that runs enforcement centers. Guggenheim's executives has said repeatedly that it wants to remain neutral of political matters, but its detractors say the inaction – and the investment – are their own form of acquiescence to current policies.
These factors add up to significant mixed feelings among Latino supporters in particular – feelings that emerged even in the euphoria of this year's hard-fought World Series victory and the ensuing explosion of team support across the city.
"Can one to support the Dodgers?" local writer Erick Galindo reflected at the start of the postseason in an elegant article pondering on "Dodger blue in our veins, but uncertainty in our hearts". Galindo couldn't ultimately bring himself to view the championship, but he still cared strongly, to the extent that he believed his personal boycott must have given the team the luck it needed to succeed.
Numerous supporters who have Galindo's reservations seem to have decided that they can keep to support the team and its lineup of global players, including the Asian superstar Shohei Ohtani, while pouring scorn on the team's corporate overlords. Nowhere was this more evident than at the victory celebration at Dodger Stadium on Monday, when the packed audience cheered in approval of the manager and his athletes but booed the team president and the chief executive 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 for more time than they have."
The issue, though, runs deeper than just the organization's present proprietors. The agreement that moved the Brooklyn Dodgers to Los Angeles in the 1950s required the municipality demolishing three low-income Hispanic communities on a hill above the city center and then transferring the property to the organization for a small part of its market value. A track on a 2005 album that documents the events has an impoverished parking attendant at the venue revealing that the house he lost to removal is now a part of the field.
A prominent commentator, possibly southern California most influential Latino writer and media personality, sees a darker side to the lengthy, problematic relationship between the team and its audience. He calls the team the Flamin' Hot Cheetos of baseball, "a corporate entity with an undue, even harmful following by numerous Latinos" that has been shortchanging its fans for decades.
"They have put one arm around Latino followers while profiting from them with the other hand for so long because they have been able to get away with it," Arellano wrote over the warmer months, when demands to boycott the organization over its absence of reaction to the enforcement actions were contradicted by the uncomfortable fact that turnout at home games did not dip, even at the peak of the demonstrations when the city center was subject to a nightly curfew.
Distinguishing the team from its corporate owners is not a simple matter, {
Elara is a seasoned software engineer and tech writer, passionate about demystifying complex technologies and sharing actionable advice.