This is it. The last chance the Rayados will have to score. Their impressive early lead all but vanished, all eyes are on Raymond Figueroa now. They know a one run lead is barely a lead, a fraction of a lead. With men on first and second, Figueroa attempts to do what he hasn’t done all game long; get a hit. Here’s the pitch…
I’ve heard of League City’s Big League Dreams before. It’s kind of easy to miss it; chances are you’ve driven right past it on I-45 without so much as batting an eye. Maybe that in and of itself isn’t surprising; I pass by softball fields all the time. Some look nice, most seem forgotten. Wasted. Given its relative popularity, I at least figured that Big League Dreams was gonna fall on the “nice” side of of that particular spectrum.
To say that’s an understatement would be an understatement.
The complex is wonderfully well kept, and I do mean complex. This ballpark actually houses six ballparks, all modeled after real iconic MLB stadiums. You can find fake old Yankee stadium, false Wrigley field, and faux Fenway among others. It’s a great idea, and nothing prevents you from watching all the softball your heart or calendar will allow.
The game is about to begin. The Rayados, who only minutes before were chatting and laughing loudly, now take to the dugout in a more quiet tone. They still have smiles on their faces, but it’s evident that they have a goal tonight, this first game of the new season. They’re here to have fun – but they have fun by winning.
Calm before the storm.
I head to Yankee stadium, the park where I’ve arranged to meet Rayados team captain Cesar Madrigal. Wearing an old work t-shirt, Madrigal welcomes me to the club and gets to tossing a ball around with some of his teammates. The majority of the team follows suit, warming up in whatever ways they see fit. I find a seat next to outfielders Raymond Figueroa and Ivan Gonzalez while they talk shop. Both men, like all the players in this ball club, have a full-time day job. That’s something I have to remind myself to stop and consider, given the way these guys approach the game before them.
Their dedicated exercises and workouts all geared towards improving field performance, it’s easy to forget that none of these guys are paid for this. Hell, they pay to play. It’s a hobby, an escape from the real world, but not in the way you and I go to happy hours or play video games or get to writing. These gentlemen have taken to a grueling timetable of leagues and standings and scouting not because it’s fun, but because it’s in their blood. This isn’t so much a pass time as it is a passion.
Gonzalez and Figueroa break down the game for me, drawing the differences between your standard baseball game and this particular brand of softball. For example, the games are reduced to seven innings, down from the normal nine. Also, home runs have a vital weight to them – your team is only allowed one per game. This makes those critical feats all the more important; it’s almost wasteful to hit one out of the park with nobody on base.
The Rayados get to a fast start, getting up 4 runs to Team Winning’s 1. By the 2nd inning, the stern, focused faces have faded, eased by the comfort of the lead. The club begins blaring some music, much to the chagrin of Team Winning.
All equipment is player property.
Softballs whizzing by behind us as the team does some catch exercises, I continue learning from Gonzalez and Figueroa. Gonzalez proudly boasts about his prowess, retelling tales of conquests and performances, while the quieter Figueroa tells me about his coming up in a baseball family. He tells me about his father’s career broadcasting games, how he’s attended and played in games across the world.
“I lived in France for 7 months”, Figueroa details to me, “for a professional team. I traveled between France and Italy, trying to make a name for myself before I got homesick.”
It’s hearing about his homesickness that brings me right back to the thought that these guys have families, spouses, friends, homes to come to, all without multiyear, multibillion dollar contracts. Regular Joes, some of them no larger or smaller or faster or stronger than your co-workers.
It’s something you can do, I can do.
The comfortable lead encroaches on full blow-out mode in the 5th, the Rayados now up 10 runs to 1 for this next Team Winning at-bat. The guys have loosened up now, cracking jokes and hollering taunts – usually to their own teammates. Despite the lights, the fans, the cheers and jeers, it all almost feels like a day at the local park rather than an organized, recorded game.
This wouldn’t last.
Finally, the game on the field before the Rayados/Team Winning match wraps up. Their night over, I can’t help but notice how all the players gravitate to the Stadium Club, a concession stand/central hub for the complex itself. Out of the field, the players revert back to their pre-game selves, friends and acquaintances talking about the game they just finished the same way they’d talk about a Texans game the Monday afterwards. Aside from some references to their own actions, they almost magically detach themselves from the very game that brought them here. If it was their game that brought them here, I think to myself.
Maybe the overall world of Softball is greater than the games played.
Team Winning won’t stay down. Coming into the 5th inning down 9 runs, the team pulls and scratches every base they can. With bases loaded, Team Winning’s next ball goes up. It goes far. The seconds lasting an eternity, the ball finally descends to the ground just shy of the fence between the ballpark and glory. The Rayados have avoided the Grand Slam, but at a heavy cost – three runs would score off of one hit, and once the inning is spoken for, Team Winning has rallied for 4 runs. Rayados lead 10 to 5.
Rayados batting lineup
“You can’t bring your beer in here,” Madrigal warns me as I start following the team into the dugout, cup in hand. “The ump will call the game if there’s any alcohol.”
Stern and decisive, the Team Captain in Madrigal has sprung to life. Drawing up a batting line-up and directing dugout traffic, Madrigal takes the mantle of player and manager, efficient and callous. He doesn’t have to tell me twice, as I leave my beverage outside of the restricted game area. The dugout changes all of them, some obviously, some more subtle, but this isn’t the same team I introduced myself to just half an hour before. Bats laid at the ready, gloves in hand, the umpire calls for the teams. Beckoned by the stadium lights and the roar of the crowd comes the rush of Rayados from the dugout to the diamond.
It’s game time.
And it’s glorious.
The Rayados are visibly rattled and on edge now. Gonzalez hits a fly ball with two outs and runners at first and third base, only to see it land in the hands of a Team Winning outfielder. Inning over. Frustrated, Gonzalez walks back into the dugout mumbling expletives to himself as he yanks his glove off the dugout fence. A fielding error by third baseman Albert Suazo in the 6th inning proves costly for the Rayados, as Team Winning takes advantage to bring a total of 4 more runs home by their third out of the inning. Rayados just barely hold onto their lead, going into their final at bat up 10 to 9.
I don’t know how to explain it, but there’s something magical about Big League Dreams. Maybe it’s my natural affinity for baseball, or my growing respect and admiration for the team, but something has me at the edge of my seat. One thing that baseball and softball have in common, I’ve quickly learned, is that sense of simultaneous hope and dread. Of wonder and fear.
Victory or failure.
For the last time, the Rayados grab their batting gear. Gloves are put on, bats are picked up for practice swings. They’re ready.
At least they hope so.
Physicality will only get you so far here. These men, with their careers and their bills and their obligations, don’t just have the raw power needed to succeed on this field or in this society. They have the will power. The have the focus. They have the tenacity. They have heart.
Pitcher Albert Landoys needs his will power for his job at Houston Plating.
Second baseman and outfielder Alex Reyes needs his focus for his continuing education.
Cesar Madrigal and Raymond Figueroa need their tenacity for their retail careers.
Ivan Gonzalez needs his heart for his two kids.
The first two Rayados batters hit safely, two singles. Nobody out. Team Winning is on the ropes.
Nobody, including this writer, is sitting down. Figueroa walks slowly towards the batter’s box, calm, unassuming.
This is it. The last chance the Rayados will have to score. Their impressive early lead all but vanished, all eyes are on Raymond Figueroa now. They know a one run lead is barely a lead, a fraction of a lead. With men on first and second, Figueroa attempts to do what he hasn’t done all game long; get a hit. Here’s the pitch…
When Raymond Figueroa, Assistant Store Manager, gets to work tomorrow, he won’t be there as an outfielder.
CRACK! The ball goes sailing. Line drive, to left field. Everybody is running. Everybody is watching. Team Winning’s left fielder reaches up, high, trying to collide glove and ball. It looks catchable…
He won’t walk out of his office tomorrow to stadium lights. No fans. No cheers…
The ball sails past the outfielder’s outstretched arm. Time returns to normal, and the Rayados’ dugout bursts with yells. Two runs score.
…but tonight, Raymond Figueroa goes home a hero.
This is the first part of a series chronicling the people and play of The Rayados during their current season. Follow @MyHoustonLife on Twitter and “Like” MyHoustonLife on Facebook to know when new articles from this series and others are posted!
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