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Visitors find beauty, baseball and bounty in the Dominican Republic Date published: 2/3/2007 By TODD JACOBSON BY TODD JACOBSON
"You're going to drive in the Dominican?" the man on the other end of my cell phone call asked. "Are you sure? You've got to be crazy." Maybe so. But a day later, Free Lance-Star photographer Mike Morones and I were on our way to the Dominican Republic. The assignment was a four-day pilgrimage to this Caribbean island, where we were to chronicle the country's treasure trove of baseball--its past and future as it relates to the Washington Nationals. And yes, we were going to drive, at least the first leg of our journey, from Santiago, a large city in the Cibao Valley on the northern coast of the island, to the capital city of Santo Domingo on the southern coast. It was about 100 kilometers, and when we arrived in Santo Domingo, we would hook up with a driver who would accompany us the rest of our trip. "Be careful," said Manny Acta. He's the new manager of the Washington Nationals, a native of the Dominican Republic and the main reason I was getting my passport stamped for the first time in my life. We came for baseball, and in that sense, the island is paradise. The sport we call America's National Pastime is a true obsession for Dominicans. It's played in the streets and alleys of Santo Domingo and San Pedro de Macoris, next to sugar cane fields in the countryside, in stadiums across the tiny island--and almost everywhere in between. "Baseball is all we have," said Jose Rijo, a former major league pitcher, native of San Cristobal and a member of the Washington Nationals' front office. The Dominican Republic shares the island of Hispaniola with Haiti, and baseball certainly helps give the country of 9 million people an identity, but it's certainly not all it has. We flew out on a cold December day and arrived in warm and slightly humid Santiago. After breezing through customs and buying a $10 tourist card, we corralled a rental car and started the 100-kilometer trek to Santo Domingo. Contrary to what I was led to believe, roads we traveled were paved. Only in Santo Domingo did I need to act like a NASCAR driver.
Read more stories about Fredericksburg Date published: 2/3/2007
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