![]() ![]() And in Los Angeles he was likewise celebrated as the first player to enter the Hall wearing a California Angels cap. In Canada, there was excitement, because of Guerrero’s time in Montreal, because he will forever be remembered as the last great Expo. The town’s main intersection is a magnificent sensory-overload stew: Bachata music at deafening volume pumping out of a huge speakers set up outside a café diesel fumes left in the air by the trucks carrying loads of mangoes and plantains that roar by at breakneck speed heavy funk from a sidewalk fishmonger’s stand, where in the oppressive heat, with no means of refrigeration, small silver something-or-others are gutted and scaled and tossed into plastic bags for the waiting customers bands of tiny barefoot kids running in and out of the street, leaping over open sewers, cheating death. The baseball diamonds are exactly as one would imagine, with pebble-strewn infields that make a bad hop in a big-league park feel like nothing at all for the great Dominican shortstops of the future. The streets are narrow, the buildings squeezed close together. Drive an hour south and west of the country’s sweaty and frenetic capital, Santo Domingo, along a ridiculously dangerous highway, and you arrive in the town of Don Gregorio. This is not an all-inclusive resort with manicured white sand beaches and cocktails with umbrellas in them and tall fences topped with razor wire to keep out the local riffraff. ![]() This is not the tourist’s Dominican Republic. ![]()
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