DRSEA Board Members Charles Farrell, Alli Hale and Harold Mendez talking to the students and invited guests

The Dominican Republic Sports & Education Academy welcomed its inaugural students on January 14, 2013 in the city that has produced many of the Dominican Republic’s most famous baseball stars.

“The dream has become reality,” said Harold Mendez, one of the co-founders of the DRSEA, whose mission is to provide options and alternatives to just playing baseball by preparing young Dominican boys to position themselves to qualify for baseball scholarships at U.S. colleges and universities. “We want to improve lives through the DRSEA experience, and what those lives can ultimately do to improve their country.”

The DRSEA has 15 young men in its initial class of student athletes. “This day is one we have been looking forward to for a long time,” said Charles S. Farrell, the other co-founder of the DRSEA. “We are starting on a small scale, but it is a scale from which we hope to expand rapidly over the next few years.”

Board Member and baseball legend Cesar Geronimo speaking the the students

Classes will be taught at The Palms School in San Pedro, and initially offer a concentration in English; baseball instruction is also provided. Allison Hale, director of the school and an Advisory Board member of the DRSEA, said the opportunity offered the first class of students will prove beneficial to them, regardless of success in baseball. “Education is something that will help them the rest of their lives,” she said.

Those educational benefits were underscored by Cesar Geronimo, a former Major League Baseball player with the Cincinnati Reds and a Dominican legend who serves on the Board of Trustees of the DRSEA. “Baseball is a great game,” he said, “and you should pursue it because it can be rewarding. But you should pursue education in the same way, because its rewards will continue to give.”

Board Member Harold Mendez introduces DRSEA student

Baseball players who hail from San Pedro include Sammy Sosa, Alfonso Soriano, George Bell, Robinson Canó, Rico Carty, Joaquín Andújar, Mariano Duncan, Pedro Guerrero, and Rafael Ramírez, to name just a few.

To support the DRSEA, go to www.drsea.org, or send donations to DRSEA, 600 Anita Street #16, Chula Vista, CA, 91911. To donate school supplies: Charles S. Farrell/DRSEA, EPS X-25801, 8260 NW 14th Street, Doral, FL 33126.

The need has been evident much longer, dating back to 2000 when I led a delegation at Major League Baseball’s behest to take a look at its teams’ academies in the Dominican Republic and finding so many of them lacking, particularly in educational opportunities. Some of the academies were fantastic and reminded me of some of the camps where I spent summers when I was young, but many – most – were decrepit beyond belief, including one that had a dormitory that looked more like a jail. After my report was filed, MLB opened an office in the Dominican Republic for the first time.

In 2004, I was part of a group that held a conference in the Dominican Republic on Latino participation in the sports industry. We invited prospects from MLB teams to sessions on financial planning, on picking a sports agent, on acculturation. I will never forget that the first question asked by one of these prospects was, “How do I open a bank account?”

2010 DRSEA retreat in Dominican Republic

I think it was that moment that convinced Harold and me that things needed to change. Here was an industry in one of the poorest countries in the world that puts over $125 million annually into the economy of the Dominican Republic to mine the country for baseball talent. Here is an industry where only two in 100 prospects succeeds. Here is an industry dependent on the talents of 16-year-olds, many who cannot point on map where they live. It is as if baseball is willing to plant 100 apples trees, yet let the fruit rot on 98, harvesting from just two.

I grew up in a family where education had been the salvation, had been the vehicle to escape poverty, had been the commodity that once obtained cannot be taken away.

The main goal of the DRSEA was, and remains, to position young Dominican baseball players academically and athletically to receive scholarships to U.S. colleges and universities, but along the way we have also become an advocate for reform in baseball in the Dominican Republic. Much of what we advocated – addressing age and identity fraud, eliminating steroid usage, and education for prospects in MLB academies – has been embraced by MLB and its academies, but much is left to be done, and the DRSEA intends to remain a key voice for baseball players in the Dominican Republic.

I remember when I first arrived in the Dominican Republic and a colleague at the time basically said that some people were not embracing the DRSEA, didn’t believe in the project, because they perceived me a dreamer. I told her it was a label that I not only embrace, but covet.

Where are we without dreams? I wonder what would have happened if, 35 or so years ago, someone had pulled young Barack Obama aside and told him not to dream of being president of the United States?

What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the hot Dominican sun, withering and disappearing? Maybe it stinks like rotten meat, becoming a sickening reminder of what will never be? Perhaps the dream will crust and sugar over, like a sweet pineapple left in the night air? Or does the deferred dream explode, the obvious severity of a postponed dream.

The DRSEA is a dream I refuse to defer, and now we stand on the brink of reality. I think my dad would be proud.

“I watched the announcement of Obama going over the top alone at home, knowing I was going to be emotional. Not going to lie; the tears flowed, mostly with joy at the historic nature of what had just taken place, but a profound sadness that my parents, particularly my dad who was a poll watcher for years, were not around to witness what had transpired. I know that somewhere he was smiling, saying, “That’s my man. Obama, that’s my man!” My brother, who just happens to be a Republican, put it into perspective, saying that even though my parents weren’t around, they raised us to appreciate the moment. True that.”

I was more nervous than emotional this time around as I again sat alone at home watching the returns. Living in the Dominican Republic, I was relatively immune from the avalanche of political ads that bombarded the United States, but as an American citizen and voter, I had a vested interest in the process. I had done my part – voted by absentee ballot – so all I could do was watch and hope that my guy would again prevail. He did of course, and my tears flowed again. A black man re-elected president of the United States! And again I know my dad is smiling.

God bless America!

I recently returned to the U.S. for one of my periodic visits, and concluded some unfinished business that left me both complete and subdued – the interment of my father’s ashes and the placing of markers on his grave and that of my mother.

It is not that my brother and I had forgotten; we had talked about it many times since my father passed away in 2005 (my mother died in 2002), but with me in the Dominican Republic, scheduling the task had not been easy. But I needed a trip to the U.S. to take care of some business and some personal matters, so we were able to coordinate.

It was a modest affair, just as I imagine my father would have wanted; no pomp and circumstances, just a few friends and family gathered in the cemetery at Hosanna A.U.M.P Church adjacent to the gate of my father’s beloved Lincoln University. The church was once a station on the Underground Railroad and as fitting a final resting place as my parents could possibly have. Some of the earliest graves date back to 1853, a year before the founding of Lincoln; its many visitors included Frederick Douglass and Sojourner Truth.

Hosanna A.U.M.P Church

Even with the passage of time, the process was still emotional. I miss my dad every single day. Oh, I miss my mother too, but my father and I had a special bond that got stronger over the years and was cemented eternally in the last few months of his life. I had gone from him taking care of me as a child unable to take care of myself, to taking care of him when he needed me to take care of him. But we had also developed a friendship in the last few years of his life that became special; I was finally able to put so much into perspective, so many of the things he used to tell me in my youth that I would one day understand. How wise he was.

As I pass my four year anniversary of living in the Dominican Republic, his wisdom continues to help steer my ship. He was always one to advise me to follow my dreams; that I could accomplish anything I put my mind to, and I remind myself of that when I have doubts. It often gets frustrating living alone in a foreign country, often unsure of who believes in you, unsure if the next step is the right one, unsure of the promise of tomorrow.

And then I think of my dad as a young, gifted and black 16-year-old entering the gate at Lincoln University in 1930, in an America I can only imagine. Of being the oldest child of a domestic who had been abandoned by her husband, who wanted her son to be educated no matter that it was a strictly segregated America where the intelligence of black people was suspect.

I think about how he prevailed, graduating second in his class, an English major who loved the language that he manipulated with such skill. I think about a young black man drafted into a segregated Army during World War II, going “kicking and screaming” all the way, he would later joke, and serving in the secretarial pool to make white officers seem intelligent on paper.

A young H. Alfred Farrell

I think about him returning to segregated America to reunite with his wife and go on to become the first African American to receive a PhD in English from Ohio State University. He was a graduate assistant, a post reluctantly provided him by skeptics who felt that white students would not take his direction. Of course they did, and if you knew my father, it is easy to understand why.

But as gifted as he was, in a segregated America he returned to Lincoln University where he spent the remainder of his life teaching, guiding, nurturing and mentoring students. He later had offers to go elsewhere; he stayed, because his dream was to teach people who could benefit most from what he had to offer. Even after retiring after 32 years of teaching, he continued to help students; he created a student emergency fund with his own money, then continued to fund it by running a small canteen where he sold sodas and candy.

As if that was not enough, in his 80’s he got a part-time job editing the local newspaper. He had taken to correcting the paper and sending the corrections to the editors who were wise enough to recognize his expertise and hire him. He also stayed active as an officer in the local senior center.

My father was an extraordinary man; he was and is my hero. He once told me that all he wanted to do is leave this Earth a little better than he entered it.

His grave, and that of my mother, are marked with simple stone tablets, engraved with their names; the dates of their birth and death separated by a simple dash. In the end, that is a simplification we are all reduced to; what makes us individually remarkable is what we accomplish during that dash.

H. Alfred Farrell, Feb. 14, 1914 – Sept. 29, 2005, put an amazing amount into that dash, and left the world a far better place than when he entered. I take a lesson from that every day and hope I can say the same one day.

Major League Baseball signed an agreement to create and support an educational program for Dominican players in partnership with the government of the Dominican Republic. The agreement, which applies to signed players and recently released players who have played for at least one of the 30 club academies after January 2009, is the latest step taken by MLB to expand educational and vocational opportunities for Dominican players.

Rafael Perez, head of MLB’s office in the Dominican Republic, called the education initiative, “one of the most important projects of MLB in the DR. We are totally committed to provide opportunities not only to released players to further their education, but we are also working closely with each club to improve their education programs at the academies. We strongly believe a better educated baseball player will have a better opportunity to reach the big leagues.”

Rafael Perez

The programs, which range from technical, vocational and entrepreneurial opportunities, to elementary and high school equivalency courses, job-seeking workshops and career-counseling services, are designed to provide players with occupational alternatives after their playing careers are over.

Players released between January 2009 and August 2012 are eligible to participate. The league is currently accepting players into the program, said Josefine Carrion, coordinator of the initiative for Major League Baseball, adding that is already a success. “Our initiative for released players has been well received,” she said, “and we are working to make a positive difference in the lives of those young men.”

As someone who first documented that world a dozen years ago, and presented a report to Major League Baseball that resulted in MLB opening an office in the Dominican Republic, I would like to think I have a pretty fair understanding of the industry, particularly as it has evolved over the years.

While “Pelotero” is provocative and entertaining, I do not think is presents a fair and accurate view of baseball in the Dominican Republic, in part because it focuses on the negatives and doesn’t fully take into account the measures Major League Baseball has taken to address those negatives.

Scene from “Pelotero”

Astin Jacobo and me

Many of the cast of characters in the film are people I know, and I think the film goes out of its way to portray some as villains. In particular, I felt for Astin Jacobo, who develops young players in the Dominican Republic and barters them to MLB teams. Some would call him a buscone, a term Jacobo considers derogatory to someone like himself who understands that baseball is a business, and that he performs a necessary service. My dealings with Astin have always been professional and courteous; he was one of the first trainers I know who embraced the need for reform in baseball in the Dominican Republic, asking only that decisions be inclusive of all vested interests, not just Major League Baseball’s.

Another flaw of the film is that MLB’s input is not included, though a disclaimer says MLB declined to participate. I have heard opposing reports, but I can’t help but believe that MLB, given the slant of the film, would have taken the opportunity to defend itself in what is certainly an unflattering portrayal of baseball in the Dominican Republic.

The film was shot over nine months in 2009, right when the movement to reform baseball was just beginning, and while “Pelotero” does acknowledge steps taken by MLB to address some of the corruption, much of the film’s central issues of age and identity fraud are different today than three years ago. I don’t think the same documentary could be filmed today, though issues of identity and age fraud remain, as does steroid usage and unethical practices in the procurement of players.

To date, I can reflect on only two films that I think give honest portrayals of baseball in Latin America. One is “Sugar,” which, while fictional, gives an accurate rendition of the life of a Dominican baseball player. The other is “BUSCON”, a documentary by award-winning director Anthony Alcalde, that examines the world of buscones with fairness and veracity, a world I have frequently referred to as a “necessary evil” whose evil components need to be weeded out.

I think my biggest problem right now is the media’s fixation on what is wrong with Dominican baseball without at least taking into account what is being done to make it right. As an advocate for reform, I have seen much change in the 12 years since I first documented for Major League Baseball many of the issues that have since come under scrutiny, and a lot of that change has come in the four years I have lived in this country. But the media still tends to focus on the negative, on the sensational.

A couple of months ago, I was contacted by a British television station interested in doing a documentary on Dominican baseball, including how the Dominican Republic Sports & Education Academy fits into the equation; we have always advocated that education of Dominican baseball players must be incorporated into the industry.

While I was originally given assurances that the documentary would be a “fair and balanced” portrayal of baseball in the Dominican Republic, on the eve of the film crew’s trip to the country I was told that the documentary would focus solely on buscones, which alone is only one small aspect of the big picture. I never heard from the Brits again, leaving me to suspect that soon there will be one more aggrandized “true account” of Dominican baseball that may draw viewers through its salaciousness, but will do nothing to accurately and fairly depict the business of baseball in this country.

I have yet to see the media at large document the positives the reform movement has brought, the measures Major League Baseball has undertaken to make things better.

I have yet to read or see anything substantive about MLB’s newest educational initiative (see below) to help prospects who have transitioned out of baseball.

Josefine Carrion

I have yet to read or see anything substantive about Josefine Carrion, the new education coordinator Major League Baseball hired to oversee and review education programs that each MLB team has been mandated to develop.

Kim Ng

I have yet to read or see anything substantive about programs and activities initiated by Kim Ng, senior vice president of baseball operations for Major League Baseball, to better showcase Dominican talent, particularly older players, which will help to minimize abuses. Ng is a visionary I think will one day be given serious consideration to be the commissioner of baseball.

I have yet to read or see anything substantive about Rafael Perez, who heads MLB’s Dominican Republic office, and is quietly, but effectively working to change the landscape of Dominican baseball for the better. As someone who has come up through the system, gone to college on a baseball scholarship, played professional baseball, worked in international player development, there are few others as knowledgeable and capable as Perez to make the decisions necessary to improve conditions for everyone in Dominican baseball, but most importantly the young prospects on whose skills the future of baseball depends.

When the media takes notice and reports on some of these positives in the Dominican Republic, the plethora of negatives that continue to be a focus of Dominican baseball can at least be put into perspective.

Understand, it is not my job or intention to defend Major League Baseball and its activities, but many of the initiatives the league has undertaken have long been advocated by the DRSEA, and I would like to believe that MLB takes seriously what we are about, as reflected in its actions.

MLB has taken some positive and dramatic steps to address the welfare of prospects, including creating educational opportunities, but, unfortunately, if the media continues to focus on the negative, those opportunities, as well as the activities of the DRSEA, will continue to be ignored and the focus will remain on a one-sided and distorted image of Dominican baseball.

Both sports and music provide universal languages of communication, uniting people and cultures with common bonds. Jazz is its own form of artistic expression; Dominicans have taken baseball to a new art form through improvisation and unique style – they are the jazz artists of the baseball diamond.

The Dominican Jazz Initiative (DJI) is a collaboration between Jazz en Dominicana and the Dominican Republic Sports & Education Academy to promote the advancement, creativity, and appreciation of jazz through education and performance activities that harness the talents of jazz musicians to educate and inspire the next generation of performers and listeners.

The DJI recognizes the educational values inherent in jazz; by understanding this unique art form, the next generation comes to understand not only the music’s legacy, but also understand the values it represents.

Fernando Rodriguez

Jazz en Dominicana, created in 2006, is the brainchild of Fernando Rodriguez, a Dominican who was raised in Long Island, NY, and educated at the University of Houston before returning to his native country after 22 years.

He blames the Milt Jackson Quintet’s rendition of “Sunflower” for giving rise to his passion for jazz. “This production was the ‘culprit’ that sent me into the depths of the genre that I love and am so passionate about,” Rodriguez said. “The first time I heard it, its impact was so great that I repeated it 17 consecutive times and to this day not a week goes by without listening to it – I never tire of diving into the music of this quintet: Milt Jackson, Freddie Hubbard, Billy Cobham, Herbie Hancock and Ron Carter.”

Rodriguez calls jazz “a unique musical style that originated in the United States, but has its roots in Africa and merges both African and European music traditions. Years before the integration of social structures such as the work place, education systems, and professional sports teams, the jazz bandstand was an example of tolerance, cooperation, improvisation, and mutual understanding. In addition, jazz provided one of the first forums for freedom of expression and gender empowerment, and is an example of the transformable power of this fundamental human right.

“Today jazz is a universal language spreading over the continents, influencing and being influenced by other kinds of music, evolving as a merging cultural element for supporters all around the world, with no distinction of race, religion, or national origin.”

My own love affair with jazz started with the gift of two albums on my 13th birthday; one by Oscar Peterson and the other by Ramsey Lewis. I wore the grooves off the albums as they expanded my horizons, pressing me to listen to Coltrane, Miles, Dizzy, Billy Holiday, Count Basie, the Duke, and other pioneers of the genre.

I love the innovation of jazz, how it stirs my soul; it is music you feel as much as you hear, and can’t wait to share with others who understand its profound rapture. It is in that spirit that the Dominican Jazz Initiative is being developed.

The idea for the DJI actually came from the New York Jazz Initiative, which was formed in 2008 to advance the performance, education and creative spirit of jazz. Part of its mission is to develop outreach programs that bring jazz and jazz masters into all levels of music education, as well as to develop cross-curriculum and interdisciplinary programs incorporating jazz technique and history into subjects other than music, including history. It also fosters the application of jazz performance techniques and history to all levels of public and private education.

I have been pleasantly surprised by the existence and sophistication of the jazz community in the Dominican Republic; I was introduced to it by Fernando, who “hosts” jam sessions at various locations in Santo Domingo, including La Cantina del Agave, a local restaurant. The musicians he presents are talented in breadth and scope, with many of them educated at top music schools in the United States, yet they fuse their music with a Latin flair that makes it somehow uniquely Dominican.

Jazz has yet to reach the masses in the Dominican Republic who tend to be caught up in salsa, merengue and bachata. I ask friends if they like jazz and far too often the answer is no. But more baffling is that they admit they never listen to it. “How do you know you don’t like it if you have never listened to it,” I ask?

Through the DJI, I see jazz as an instrument to bring its history, innovation and, of course, its Latin roots to promote the educational values of music, if nothing else the skill of learning to listen, and the critical thinking skills inherent in the creative process.

We are hoping to launch the DJI in early 2013, and are currently recruiting musicians, jazz historians and aficionados of the genre to the cause. If you are interested in supporting the program, please go to our website, www.drsea.org, to find out how you can make a donation today. The art form of baseball is well developed in the Dominican Republic; the art form of jazz deserves a little attention as well.

Enjoying some jazz with friends at La Cantina

But the top of the class, in my opinion, is Thomas “Satch” Sanders, a standout with the Boston Celtics who entered the Hall in recognition for “significant contributions to the game of basketball.”

I was privileged to get to know Satch when we both worked at the Center for the Study of Sport in Society at Northeastern University.  I, of course, knew of his fame on the basketball court, but I got to know the man, for which I am truly fortunate.

Satch was always the voice of reason at the Center, able to see both sides of any argument.  He never raised his voice or lost his demeanor; he was always cool, calm and collected.  Satch favored bow ties, which loaned him both sartorial and professorial splendor.

He never bragged about his playing days, but did give us insights to the environment he and others endured.  He told us how he was initially offered a $5,000 contract to play with the Celtics; he was able to negotiate it up to $8,000, a regal sum in those days, but necessitating the need to work in the off season.

Satch Sanders during his playing days

Satch told us how teammate Bob Cousy, “Mr. Basketball” of the Celtics, was once offered $5,000 for a personal appearance.  When The Cooz turned down the offer, Bill Russell, who went on to become the first African American coach in the National Basketball Association, was offered the same opportunity – for $500.  Russell rejected the offer like he rejected opponents’ jump shots.

Satch also told us about the entire team rebelling when black players were provided inferior accommodations to those of their white counterparts, leading to improved uniformity in those conditions.

Satch spent his entire 13 year career with the Celtics and was part of eight championship teams in 1961-66, 1968 and 1969. In NBA history, only teammates Russell and Sam Jones won more championship rings during their playing careers. He ended his career in 1973.

Despite playing in an era when black players were at best under appreciated, Satch bore no ill will.  He coached the Celtics briefly and also had a stint as the basketball coach at Harvard.  After his coaching career, Satch helped create the NBA’s Rookie Transition Program, aimed at helping players adjust to life in professional basketball, and established the league’s player programs division.

As I watched the Basketball Hall of Fame inductions, my eyes welled with tears when Satch strode to the podium, humble in his thanks for the honor bestowed him.  No one deserved it more.

Henry Louis Gates

About a year ago, I was pleasantly surprised to see Harvard professor Henry Louis Gates Jr., one of the United States’ pre-eminent African American scholars, strolling in Columbus Park near my home.  He told me he was working on a documentary on blacks and Latinos; he has written about the uneasy relationship between the two, so I was very interested in what the documentary would reveal, particularly given my circumstances in the Dominican Republic.

I got to watch parts of his documentary series, Black in Latin America, where he looked at race and black culture in the Caribbean and South America, including the Dominican Republic, and he is now writing a book of the same name to expand on the series.  But recently an excerpt from the book appeared and gave me great pause as Gates declared that Dominicans are in denial with claims that they are anything but black.

He begins with this premise – “The most important question that this book attempts to explore is this: what does it mean to be “black” in these countries? Who is considered “black,” and under what circumstances, and by whom in these societies, the answers to which vary widely across Latin America in ways that will surprise most people in the United States.

“Few people (in the Dominican Republic) self-identify as black or Negro; rather, a wide majority of Dominicans –  most recently 82 percent in a federal census – designate their race as indio, while only 4.13 percent designate themselves as black. And I wanted to understand why.”

What surprised me is Gates would try to force-feed a racial ID on a country with a history older than the United States; people sometimes forget that Christopher Columbus landed here, and never set foot in any part of what is now the USA.

Columbus Park in Santo Domingo

I do agree with him that the “African American Experience” is shared by the Dominican Republic and the United States,  including the history of slavery in which both became melting pots of Europeans, Africans and native people. Santo Domingo can actually claim the dubious distinction of being the first city in the New World to bring slaves from Africa, in 1502.  Between then and 1866, 11.2 million Africans were “imported” to the Americas.  Of those, only 450,000 were destined for what would become the United States of America.

Black slaves left their indelible mark on the Dominican Republic, staging the first slave rebellion in 1522, and today the faces of so many Dominicans bare evidence of that African ancestry.   In fact, 90 percent of Dominicans have some level of African bloodlines.

But the Dominicans I know do not consider themselves as black – at least not as I define myself, and others in the United States characterize themselves.  As Gates indicates, they call themselves indio, referring more to the color of their skin as being reflective of a total ancestry and not a single one, as being the indigenous people of the country.

I have personally seen Dominican siblings with the same mother and father; one sister fair-skinned with blond hair and blue eyes, the other dark complexion with curly, black hair.  In the U.S., one would be identified as white; the other black, with no familial connection.  Here, the genetic makeup of the nation produces so many such exotic combinations that they are commonplace.

In the United States, Barack Obama is identified as our black president; in reality, his mother is white, his father African. He is tabbed with a racial identity that is born of centuries of labeling people with even a drop of African blood as black, whether the person accepts it or not.

Gates would have Dominicans accept the same pigeonhole, and when you look at so many of the people here  –  they do look like him and me –   you understand his perspective.  It just doesn’t fit in this case.

César Gerónimo in his playing days

My friend, César Gerónimo, a former big leaguer, has described to me his early days in America, playing baseball in the rural South, and being identified as “black,” and enduring the racial epithets that went with that. But he also had the double identity of being “Latino,” he said, further marginalizing him in a country that loves to marginalize along racial and cultural lines.

There have been numerous occasions in my time here that people have insisted that I must be Dominican, or at least my lineage somehow connected to the country.  I know now that they base their assumption on my complexion and the freckles that run in my family, concluding, quite correctly, that there are some people of non-African ancestry who climbed my family tree.

I think that rather than Dominicans being in denial that they are black, they refuse to classify themselves by just one race, to ignore the genetic sancocho that makes them uniquely Dominican, further united by culture, language and geographical proximity.

“Yo soy Dominicano,” is what they proudly declare. And that is as it should be.

Lou Melendez at tribute

Lou Melendez, who has held the position of Senior Advisor to the International Baseball Operations Department in the Office of the Commissioner for Major League Baseball since January, is planning on retiring at the end of the year after 29 years with MLB. The DRSEA paid tribute to him at the 809 Lounge, a landmark in the Dominican community; the event was co-hosted by the Juan Pablo Duarte Foundation and the New York Dominican Officers Organization. Chivas Regal was the official sponsor.

Prior to assuming his current role, Melendez was Vice President of International Operations, responsible for oversight of Major League Baseball’s satellite office in the Dominican Republic that he established in December of 2000.

He also administered the Winter League Agreement between Major League Baseball and four countries that make up the professional winter baseball leagues, regulated Major League Baseball teams’ activities outside the United States, and assisted in assembling teams of Major League Baseball players that participate in international events including the Olympics.

Throughout his career, Melendez has demonstrated an unwavering commitment to player education and community outreach programs, and was the first person at Major League Baseball to publicly support and advocate for the DRSEA. “This is a good idea,” he told the media who inquired, and from good ideas grow good reality.

Melendez receives commemorative plaque from DRSEA Board Vice Chair Samuel Brooks

The tribute to Melendez was an intimate affair, with several members of his immediate family and his MLB family in attendance, including Kim Ng, Senior Vice-President for Baseball Operations with Major League Baseball, who spoke of her admiration for Melendez.

Kim Ng offers her take on Lou Melendez’ contributions

The event included a panel discussion on baseball and education in the Dominican Republic and Melendez commented on the positive changes he has seen over the years, many of which he has been directly involved in. I was also on the panel, along with Julio Pabon, founder of the Latino Sports Writers & Broadcasters Association (LSWBA) and also founder of Latino Sports Ventures, Inc., one of the nation’s fastest growing Latino sports marketing firms, who also paid tribute to Melendez.

Left to right, Charles Farrell, Lou Melendez and Julio Pabon

In addition, Melendez received a special presentation from Howard Krupa from his photo exhibit “Where Baseball Is Born.”

Howard Krupa makes presentation to Lou Melendez

Melendez continues to encourage the development of the DRSEA, and has always taken the time to give advice and feedback, to foster introductions to key people, even though his busy schedule had him sending e-mails from Venezuela, from Panama, Mexico, from virtually all over Latin America and the world, responding to questions and providing sound advice, never sugarcoating.

I can recall early on he would say that he couldn’t recommend something, but if we insisted on a certain path, here were the people we should talk to, the direction to follow. I learned very quickly that when he didn’t recommend something there was a reason behind it and I now tend to quickly heed his advice, which continues today. Not long ago, I asked him something in passing, and as usual I got an e-mail back the same day with an answer that included he would also look into the issue further. That is the kind of person Melendez is.

But he has never been flashy, never one to pat himself on the back. Indeed, there have been more than a few instances where I discovered Melendez has been hard at work on issues that the DRSEA had pointed out as needing to be addressed. When I opined that fingerprinting was one method of curbing age and identity fraud, I got messages from several people explaining that Melendez had quietly, behind the scenes, been advocating such measures.

Melendez has been in the forefront, again quietly, on the need for educating young Dominican baseball players. When the DRSEA called for a mandate on education a couple of years ago, a mandate that has since been adopted, it was by no small measure due to the efforts of Melendez. He has also helped me, personally and professionally, to develop and fine-tune my own education about and understanding of Dominican baseball. It has made all the difference in the development of the Dominican Republic Sports & Education Academy.

All in all, Melendez has made a difference in the Dominican Republic with his efforts for almost 30 years. There is certainly still more to do, but the foundation for a positive future is in great part due to his contributions. And while he is retiring, I have a feeling his efforts on behalf of Dominican baseball players will not end. I just hope that we at the DRSEA can still count on him for advice and direction.

DRSEA Board members Tim Halloran, Harold Mendez, Charles Farrell, Sam Brooks and Peter Cohen

Roberto Hernandez, formally known as Fausto Carmona, recently rejoined the Cleveland Indians and apologized to the fans and his teammates for the deception that endured for 12 years.
“I want to say I’m sorry,” Hernandez said through an interpreter. “I thank God I am here and have been given a new chance.” Hernandez threw a bullpen session at Progressive Field, then started a minor league rehab assignment — while serving a three-week suspension by Major League Baseball.

Juan Carlos Oviedo

Miami Marlins pitcher Juan Carlos Oviedo, aka Leo Nuñez., was suspended eight weeks for similar fraud charges and has since been activated. “I was happy to hear my name,” Oviedo said in an interview. “No more Leo Nuñez. My name is Juan Carlos Oviedo, and I’m happy to be back.” Now 30, a year older than previously listed, he played as Nuñez for seven seasons.

Roberto Hernandez

Hernandez said he was grateful to the Indians for standing by him after he was arrested in the Dominican Republic in January outside the U.S. consulate as he tried to renew his visa. That’s when his real identity was discovered, revealing that he is 31 years old, three years older than originally listed.

The former All-Star revealed that the real Carmona is actually a “distant cousin,” but that it was Hernandez who hatched the plan to take his name and claim he was only 17 when he signed with the Indians in 2000. He declined to discuss details.

Hernandez was given his old locker in the Indians’ clubhouse and laughed when he looked up and saw, “No Name,” which is the designation given new players before a nameplate can be made. “I want to forget the past,” he said. “I want to work hard and help my team on the field.”
Hernandez said he was “very sad all the time,” throughout his time in limbo and felt he had let down his teammates. He said the toughest part was being rejected repeatedly when he went to the U.S. consulate to get his case resolved.

Indians Manager Manny Acta took Hernandez in with open arms. “It was great to see him and I was very impressed with his physical shape,” Acta said. “I know he was antsy and probably discouraged through all this, but he never stopped working.”

Acta explained that players from the Dominican Republic, eager to come to America and play professionally, have changed their birthdates to enhance their chances. He said he did not condone the practice and that it is good Major League Baseball is working to eliminate it.

I think Major League Baseball has taken the correct approach with regards to punishing players caught lying about their age and identity. Acta is correct in his assertion that the pressure to make it in baseball leads to the fraud, and while punishment is necessary to curb the practice, understanding its roots is also important. Letting Hernandez and Oviedo back into the game they have spent their lives pursuing is the right course of action.