A German, A Spaniard, and A Hot Dominican Summer: European Baseball and the DSL [Part II]

By Jason Daniels.

It is rare that our staff has the opportunity to visit the heart of the Caribbean to cover European baseball, despite the fact that dozens of teenagers from Europe first experience pro ball in the Dominican Republic. In this case, two of Europe’s brightest talents are developing their trade in the D.R.. Intrigued to learn more about this baseball-mad culture and how its European prospects are faring, I took a trip this past June to find out more. Read Part I here.

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As for what he can control, Jesús Negrette, the Dodgers’ Facility Manager for Campo las Palmas, takes pride in preparing his players to be men, through a comprehensive approach centered on schooling and skill-building at the academy. The vast majority of players will not make the big leagues, so the Dodgers are preparing them for a life beyond the academy – baseball or not. Negrette runs the complex like a college campus, and it is easy to pick up on the university vibes. He likes to play chess with the players, a diversion that blends his mental and practical approaches to player development.

Once the game begins, we shift to the first-base side, where staff are taking real-time measurements of play. Cameras are set up along both sides of the fence. After the game, players view their performance through the club’s handy app. Behind home plate are a handful of scouts scribbling down notes after each pitch. The woman next to us gives us a peek at several numbers on her iPad in between pitches, to which Negrette nods in approval.

While the Dodgers and MLB own the academy, it is Dominicans like Negrette who are running the academy and connecting with personnel and community at the ground level. Negrette interacts with staff throughout the game, checking on live stats and taking a temperature on how his people – by now encircling the backstop –  are doing. He is immersed in the academy life, and it is apparent that he relishes it.

The academy, however, has a strong international presence. Negrette often finds people are surprised to know that it is more than just Dominican kids here. He says 16 nationalities in total are represented.

After Dominicans, Venezuelans are the second most common group. Nicaragua, Colombia, Panama, and others show up on the Dodger rosters. Negrette mentions that, in the last year, Russian and Ugandan players also trained at the academy, the latter of whom — Allen Ajoti [see the latest edition of our Africans in the Minors] — just got sent up to the U.S. The former, Moscow’s Enrike Sevilya, was released last September after two seasons with the Dodgers.

Regardless of background, a common teaching point is that these teenagers must learn to speak up during their time here. Negrette finds that by the time many move on to the U.S., they are still afraid to ask questions, especially in non-native English. As a result, they often end up saying yes to everything because they do not know exactly what is being asked or they do not want to be rude. Players are tasked to grow up quickly at Campo Las Palmas – to be more accountable, self-sufficient, and to mature as developing men.

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“It’s like everyone tries to sign [in the Dominican Republic] to be a big leaguer.” 

Tim Fischer is immersed in all of this, with the added twist of the unique transition from German to Latin culture. Fischer is in his second year in the DSL after signing with the Dodgers as an international free agent in 2022. Originally from Regensburg, he grew up a short toss from Germany’s – and one of Europe’s – best baseball academy, headquartered in his hometown. As in the Dominican Republic, the Regensburg Baseball Academy develops young players to achieve elite ability. MLB alumni Max Kepler and Donald Lutz once called Regensburg home. “How do the two academies compare?”, I wonder.

A few innings in, I intercept Fischer as he walks out of the training room, a cut-off gym shirt and protein shaker suggesting he will not be pitching today. His work out complete, we pause to chat, the 19-year-old replying in one of the three languages at his disposal.

“You feel a different spirit here,” he remarks, trying to put into perspective the cultural shift. “It’s the main sport [in the Dominican Republic] and it’s like everyone tries to sign here to be a big leaguer.”  

Compared to German baseball, he notes the aggressiveness, speed, and natural arm talent of his Dodgers teammates. This comes with a Caribbean mix of loose, casual vibes and alternating moments of high energy and emotional expression. It’s a slight departure from the more reserved and direct German style of play. He’s embracing the opportunity in stride. “It’s a really good experience. I’m happy to be here,” he says.

For the sturdily-built right-hander who will soon turn 20, it’s not all baseball. Four days a week, players have class. They enjoy a social room where they watch television, play ping pong and billiards, and wind down with one another after playing.

Away from the academy, he says players visit shops to load up on snacks or venture to the large mall in Santo Domingo for a greater sense of teenage normalcy. During the weekends, some Dominican players go home to their families or invite girlfriends over. Not so different from college life.

As for his role at the academy, the Dodgers want to develop Fischer as a starting pitcher. It is somewhat new territory for him, though he is enjoying that transition as well. “It’s nice to be a starting pitcher [in terms of preparation] every day. You got your routine and almost every week, [you know] when it’s your day to pitch, you can do your routine, bullpens once a week, and then a game.” He is slated to start in a few days on Tuesday.

He talks about the Dodgers rookie team in Arizona, his next destination should he be promoted. For some players, it is as simple as performing well to earn a promotion. For others, it takes a lucky – or unlucky – break. “It’s hard to get there if no one’s injured or no one is getting released,” he says candidly. “But if they need pitchers, maybe I can go. That’s one of the next steps. And I work every day to go to Arizona.”

In Arizona, Fischer would be one step closer to an MLB future. The move would also make it easier to spend time with loved ones visiting from Germany. Undergoing his second year abroad and a world away, his family is firmly in mind.

He says there are just a few players who speak English at the academy. “It’s a little hard if you want to have a conversation or talk about a game. That’s for sure hard,” he says. Fischer mentions his Spanish is getting better. “I go two times per week to class. Most of the Spanish I learn with the guys here.”  Today – perhaps a small consolation – we are able to connect however briefly in a shared language.

An hour into our chat, as we look onto the field under a shaded patch of grass, Fischer tosses out the water in his protein shaker that has by now turned lukewarm. He resigns that this is what happens in this heat.

By the middle of the game, a local junior team has gathered on the first-base bleachers. Several other fans and significant others are now in attendance. Meanwhile, a handful of balks have now been called in the game. A once tidy match has devolved into a slightly sloppy affair, the heat getting to more than Fischer’s bottle.

By a final score of 16-3, Fischer’s team, Mega, beats DSL Bautista. The teams are now 1-2 and 0-3, respectively, on the young season. While there is work to be done, it is wild to think just how hard these kids already throw the ball, and quite startling to think what they might do with a metal bat were they in college, or heaven help us, high school. They are still teenagers, after all.

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Fischer can rest a bit easier at night with people like Leo Ruiz nearby. Carrying the title of StrongMind Cultural Development Director for L.A., Ruiz specializes in the mental side of the game as a roving member of the Dodgers organization. He is equal parts sports psychologist, therapist, teacher, mentor, and big brother.

Ruiz hails from New Jersey as the son of Dominican parents, also from the Santiago region. He is an instrumental resource as players prepare for life today, and – with a bit of fortune – a long career in the U.S.

“‘Academy’ is really a misnomer,” he explains, his uncanny relatability becoming readily apparent. “It’s more like a performance facility,” noting that the players are already professionals. They need to be ready to adapt to what life may throw at them.

I’m still curious about the Dominican signing process, so Ruiz indulges me. He says it is more complex than the negative press about trainers and exploitation. It is blown out of proportion, he says, but admits that the challenges are real. For example, he shares that in the Dominican Republic if you do not have family in politics, the right last name, or the right connections, then your job options are limited.

So, when kids are told someone (i.e., a buscon) will train, house, and look after them free of charge, what do they realistically have to lose? Many will drop out of school anyway, so it makes sense to pursue their baseball dream. And if trainers end up taking half of their bonus, it is still good business.

As Ruiz says, “guys are betting on themselves,” likening the current baseball system to the U.S. relationship with education. Just as big loans are taken out to study in college, baseball is the Dominican way of taking a chance at a better future.

Ruiz emphasizes that the Dodgers and other academies on the island ultimately help the country. He says they create thousands of jobs on the island, as all security, groundskeepers, support staff, and more are local. He says the Dodgers partner with nearby schools and provide water access at the academy front gate where locals can gather water to drink or wash their clothes.

Ruiz works on all things mental with the players, such as breathing through stress, visualization, and preparing guys to play on gameday. He speaks of a previous player from Europe who struggled with the language barrier. The player grew astounded when he realized Ruiz spoke English. He would simply talk and talk to Ruiz. He just needed someone to listen.

While Ruiz is based in the U.S., he is always grateful when he comes to the D.R. as it puts things into perspective for him, knowing this is where so many players come from. And even when players move on to the States, he is still ready to lend an ear. As he points out, just because players get promoted does not mean they do not need help and someone to talk to.

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The second article in this three-part series will appear tomorrow. For more on how the two have been performing since our visit, check out the Europeans in the Majors & Minors: Mid-July Update.

All photos courtesy Jason Daniels.