Some fans love baseball, others like my uncle Tony, my brother, or my friend Mauricio love it and live it with a passion that few understand. It is not just a sport; it is the space where he has deposited his memories, his time, and above all, his dreams.
Maua – as we affectionately call him – since he was a child, he found a passion in baseball, and since that distant 1981, the Dodgers became his team. It wasn’t just about going to the games or watching the broadcasts; for Mauricio, it was about learning every detail, every play, every statistic. His devotion was such that he could tell you about the brand of shoes Jose Canseco wore, Mark McGwire’s percentage, “the curse of the Bambino,” the lineup of a game from twenty years ago, each player’s batting average, or the number of double plays executed in a season.
Mauricio always played shortstop, which is a position that requires quick reflexes, field vision, and a mind that is always on the move, qualities that matched his character. He was on every play, attentive, and ready to make that catch or assist that makes the difference. In the local league, we shared games, and he, in particular, was known for his accuracy and ability to anticipate ball movement, a born instinct undoubtedly but developed by practice and watching every game with the attention that only a true fan can have. I remember very well when we played -which, by the way, I was pretty bad- it was funny that Maua, in every game, would replicate the style of his idol in turn, from how he wore his cap to his movements on the field to the ideal shoes or gloves to play with.
He was a great Dodgers fan. The years passed, and his team accumulated victories, defeats, joys, and frustrations. Mauricio was still there, steadfast, being the first to put on his cap and jersey every time an important game started, the first to cheer and yell, the last to give up. His family and friends knew that, during the season, there was no conversation in which baseball or the Dodgers were not present. That was Mauricio, a fan who didn’t need to be at the ballpark to feel the game in every fiber of his being.
That 1981 championship, in which Valenzuela led the Dodgers to victory over the Yankees, left such a deep impression on him that, ever since, he never stopped waiting for his team to be crowned again under the same circumstances. When the World Series ended in a Yankees vs. Dodgers, Maua was extraordinarily excited and repeated, “I waited 43 years to see this World Series again.”
Yesterday was his birthday, and baseball gave him the best gift he could receive. The Dodgers, HIS Dodgers, were crowned champions, and he, from his usual place, celebrated like that child who saw Fernando Valenzuela beat the Yankees and dreamed of seeing his team at the top again in identical circumstances. 43 years later, the miracle of 1981 happened to Mauricio.
Mauricio’s happiness today is something many of us can learn from. In the end, baseball, like dreams, is built on patience, loyalty, and, above all, hope. Mauricio, the lifelong fan, reminds me that the heart never stops believing because it knows that all the waiting will have been worth it when the time comes.
For Times Media Mexico / The Yucatan Times
José E. Urioste
Merida Yucatan, Mexico
October 31, 2024
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