Corruption, Abuse, and Steroid Use:
Is There a Better Path to MLB?
If you’re a teenage boy in the Dominican Republic with a talent for baseball, there’s about a one percent chance you’ll someday sign with a Major League Baseball team. Which means there’s a 99 percent chance you won’t. And if you don’t, you’ll likely end up without a high school diploma, your body damaged from improper nutrition and steroid use.
It’s a high price to pay. But it doesn’t feel like a risk when the buscón — a guy who works as a trainer and talent scout — approaches you after practice. He looks successful. Smells like money. He’s confident and smart. He says you have real talent, the kind that gets attention from MLB scouts. The buscón promises to build you up and get you in front of the scouts. He says he has the connections.
All you have to do is sign his contract, leave home, quit school, and work hard in his program. You’ll have to rely on him to supply your room and board. He’ll provide coaches for you. It’s a risk. You have no way of knowing if he’s reputable, but he says you’ll be the next big thing.
If you get signed by a major league team, it means you can save your family. They won’t have to struggle to put food on the table. And you’ll be the envy of every man in the Dominican Republic. Baseball is the national pastime and obsession.
For many boys, especially those who come from poor families, a buscón’s promises are too good to resist. You and your family agree, this is your shot.
The MLB organization has strict rules against drug use and bribes, but it’s nearly impossible to regulate the booming buscón industry that feeds talent into MLB teams. Whistleblowers often pay a high price for little result.
Real change in the buscón industry won’t come as a result of more MLB rules. It’s the players and their families who must say “no” to corrupt buscones. And they won’t do that unless they have another option.
One alternative option that has emerged is the I Love Baseball (ILB) program. ILB began in 2008, through the nonprofit organization Children of the Nations (COTN). The program is based in the heart of Barahona, one of the poorest districts in the Dominican Republic. Here, players can pursue their dream of playing professional baseball while still attending school. Good education and mentorship are things every player will need whether they plan to go to college or navigate the nuances of an MLB contract.
ILB players are held to high standards on and off the field if they want to stay on the team. The coaches feel strongly that they aren’t just training players, they’re developing leaders.
A program like this could revolutionize the baseball industry in the Dominican Republic. But it’s no small task. Stepping out onto ILB’s field, it quickly becomes apparent what these coaches are up against.
As the players head onto the field to warm up, there’s a horse taking a nap in the outfield. Local kids have another foal surrounded and are taking turns riding it. Another child is running by, flying a kite made of old garbage bags.
ILB doesn’t own a field yet, so they share it with the community. They’ve painted their logo in the dugout and every so often they clean up the old bottles, wrappers, and trash that accumulate on the field.
But if you can look past the patchy grass, the litter, and the activity in the background, the team looks like any other. They boys are tall, strong, and healthy. They smile easily, tease each other like old friends, and perform drills like a well-oiled machine. These players know they’re a part of something good.
“ILB is more honest than the other programs,” says team member Danilo. “ILB makes the best players.” He knows this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. He’s seen how dishonest buscones ruined the lives of some of his friends.
“I know three kids who have trouble with their kidney and liver,” says Ruddy Suero, ILB’s director. They got sick from the steroids a buscón gave them. One of the kids Ruddy knows has been bedridden for two months now.
There are about 5,000 buscones working in the Dominican Republic. In the area where ILB works, Ruddy says he knows of more than 70. But corrupt trainers and poor facilities aren’t the only problems the players face.
“They say nothing good comes from Barahona,” says Damien, a local translator and baseball enthusiast. Scouts don’t bother visiting this poor district. To be seen, talented players seek their fame and fortune in the big cities like Santo Domingo or San Pedro. But too often they come home to Barahona defeated.
Ruddy has a vision for ILB and it has real potential. To be taken seriously, ILB needs an upgrade. COTN has approved their plan to purchase eight acres of land to build a baseball field, training facilities, and dormitories for out-of-town players. The budget is $258,000. They’ve already raised $52,000.
There aren’t any programs or facilities like this in Barahona. But this is exactly the kind of thing that will draw scouts in and make it possible for ILB to help the most vulnerable boys.
In the end, ILB’s goal isn’t to make a name for the program as the best in the country. “It’s a game,” says Maximo Ortiz, ILB’s assistant coach. He tells his players this all the time. “Love what you do, do your best, and have fun. In everything you do, just do it for the glory of God.”
By Heather Ostalkiewicz, COTN–USA Staff Writer
