In the eyes of Natalia Molina and longtime Mexican American, the most memorable moment of the World Series did not occur during the nail-biting final game on Saturday, when her team pulled off multiple death-defying comeback feat after another and then prevailing in overtime against the opposing team.
It happened in the previous game, when two supporting players, the Puerto Rican player and Miguel Rojas, executed a electrifying, decisive sequence that simultaneously challenged many negative stereotypes promoted about Hispanic people in recent decades.
The moment itself was breathtaking: the outfielder raced in from the outfield to snag a ball he initially misjudged in the stadium lights, then fired it to second base to secure another, game-winning play. Rojas, at second base, received the ball just a split second before a runner collided with him, knocking him backwards.
This was not merely a remarkable athletic achievement, perhaps the decisive turn in momentum in the team's direction after looking for most of the series like the underdog team. For Molina, it was thrilling, politically and culturally, a badly needed uplift for the community and for the city after months of enforcement actions, troops monitoring the neighborhoods, and a constant stream of negativity from national leaders.
"The players put forth this counter-narrative," said Molina. "Everyone witnessed Latinos displaying an infectious pride and joy in what they do, being key figures on the team, exhibiting a distinct kind of masculinity. They're energetic, they're yelling, they're taking off their shirts."
"It was such a juxtaposition with what we observe on the news β enforcement actions, Latinos detained and chased down. It is so easy to be demoralized right now."
Not that it's exactly straightforward to be a team fan these days β for her or for the legions of other Latinos who attend faithfully to home games and fill up as many as half of the stadium's fifty thousand seats per game.
When aggressive immigration raids started in Los Angeles in June, and national guard units were deployed into the city to respond to ensuing demonstrations, two of the city's sports clubs promptly released messages of solidarity with affected communities β but not the Dodgers.
Management has said the Dodgers prefer to stay away of political issues β a view colored, perhaps, by the reality that a significant portion of the fans, including some Hispanic fans, are followers of current political figures. After considerable public pressure, the team subsequently committed $1m in support for individuals personally impacted by the raids but issued no official condemnation of the government.
Months earlier, the team did not hesitate in agreeing to an invitation to celebrate their 2024 World Series victory at the official residence β a move that sports writers described as "disappointing β¦ spineless β¦ and contradictory", considering the Dodgers' pride in having been the pioneering major league team to break the color barrier in the mid-20th century and the regular invocations of that history and the values it embodies by officials and current and former players. A number of players including the coach had voiced unwillingness to go to the White House during the initial period but either changed their minds or gave in to pressure from team management.
A further complication for fans is that the team are controlled by a corporate behemoth, Guggenheim Partners, whose equity holdings, as per media reports and its own released balance sheets, involve a stake in a detention corporation that runs enforcement centers. Guggenheim's leadership has said repeatedly that it wants to stay out of political matters, but its critics say the inaction β and the financial stake β are their own type of compliance to current agendas.
These factors contribute to considerable mixed feelings among Latino supporters in especial β sentiments that surfaced even in the excitement of this season's hard-fought World Series victory and the ensuing explosion of Dodgers support across Los Angeles.
"Can one to root for the team?" local columnist one observer agonized at the start of the postseason in an thoughtful essay ruminating on "Dodger blue in our veins, but doubt in our hearts". He was unable to finally bring himself to watch the championship, but he still cared strongly, to the point that he decided his personal boycott must have given the squad the fortune it required to win.
Numerous supporters who share similar misgivings appear to have concluded that they can keep to support the team and its roster of global stars, including the Japanese superstar a key player, while expressing disdain on the team's corporate overlords. Nowhere was this more evident than at the championship parade at the home venue on Monday, when the capacity crowd cheered in approval of the manager and his players but booed the executive and the top official of the investors.
"The executives in formal attire do not get to claim our boys in blue from us," the fan said. "We have been with the Dodgers for more time than they have."
The problem, however, runs deeper than only the team's current proprietors. The deal that brought the Brooklyn Dodgers to the city in the late 1950s involved the city demolishing three low-income Latino communities on a hill above downtown and then selling the land to the team for a small part of its market value. A song on a 2005 album that documents the events has an low-income worker at the stadium stating that the house he lost to removal is now third base.
Gustavo Arellano, possibly the region's most widely followed Mexican American columnist and broadcaster, sees a darker side to the lengthy, problematic relationship between the franchise and its fanbase. He describes the Dodgers the Flamin' Hot Cheetos of baseball, "a corporate entity with an undue, even harmful devotion by too many Latinos" that has been shortchanging its supporters for decades.
"They have put one arm around Latino fans while profiting from them with the other for so much time because they have been able to avoid consequences," Arellano wrote over the warmer months, when calls to avoid the team over its absence of reaction to the raids were upended by the awkward fact that turnout at home games did not dip, even at the peak of the protests when downtown LA was subject to a evening curfew.
Distinguishing the team from its business leadership is not a easy matter, {