The scene at City Line Park was more sandlot than major league: New York City yellow cabs rushed by on Atlantic Avenue beyond the outfield fence; the J train rumbled along in the distance, conjuring the image of the 4 train passing outside Yankee Stadium; fans leaned against the backstop surrounding the infield; Latin music pumped from the speakers next to the announcer’s booth between innings.
The game taking place on the field, however, was not so different from those played in professional baseball leagues.
In the seventh inning of the game on August 26th, needing a win in their final regular-season contest to secure a playoff spot, the Indians trailed the Cubs by a score of 6-3. As pinch hitter Jose Sanchez dug in at the plate, he had one thing on his mind: sparking a rally that would propel the Indians into the postseason. Sanchez wasted no time, launching the first pitch he saw for a home run. His teammates quickly followed suit, scoring three more runs in the inning and eventually winning the game 9-6.
These particular Indians and Cubs were not of the Major League Baseball variety; they compete in the Pedrin Zorrilla League – or simply Zorrilla, to the locals – an independent semi-pro Spanish baseball league located in the East New York neighborhood of Brooklyn. Founded in 1956 and named for the man who opened doors to professional baseball for men of African and Caribbean descent through his MLB connections, the league provides high-caliber competition for local players. Once one of more than 30 independent Spanish leagues in New York City during the 1950s, the Zorrilla League is the oldest and lone-surviving such league in Brooklyn today.
“Zorrilla is a dinosaur,” said Richie Ayala, 38, referring to the age of the league. “There will never be another league like Zorrilla because the top talent won’t want to leave the league to play somewhere else against inferior competition.”
Ayala should know; he is player-manager of the Indians, the league’s second-longest tenured team. He laughed when he admitted that he’s become more of a coach and less of a player as he’s gotten older, however. “The older you get, the more you know you’re getting close to the end and you don’t want to let go,” he said, explaining why he’s still involved with the sport he’s been playing since elementary school.
In Ayala’s view, the longevity of Zorrilla can be attributed to strong leadership by the league’s board members and the caliber of competition on the field. Similar leagues have long since faded away because they did not possess these qualities.
The baseball field at City Line Park plays host to three league games every Saturday and Sunday from May through September. Because it isn’t affiliated with MLB, as the minor leagues are, the Zorrilla League’s funding comes from a combination of donations, local business sponsorships and the $3,500 entry fee paid by each team. Some of the money is spent on a city permit that allows for use of the field; each team’s owner must pay out-of-pocket to provide equipment and uniforms for his players. The remaining money in the league’s fund is put toward the cost of the trip to the Dominican Republic for the team that wins the league title at season’s end.
The trip is a reward, but shouldn’t be confused with being a vacation. The championship team travels the island, playing against professional Dominican winter league teams, which are sometimes populated with current and former big-name MLB players like Albert Pujols, Rafael Soriano, Francisco Cordero, Vladimir Guerrero and Pedro Martinez.
Former big leaguers aren’t only found in the Dominican Republic winter leagues, however. Franklyn Gracesqui, 32, is a former MLB closer who spends his weekends pitching in Zorrilla League games while bantering with players, coaches, fans and umpires – anyone who will listen, really – in rapid-fire Spanish. Drafted in 1998 by the Toronto Blue Jays, he eventually made his major league debut with the Florida Marlins in 2004. Today, Gracesqui is out of professional baseball while he recovers from a groin injury. He chose not to make his rehab appearances in a professionally sanctioned baseball league, but rather by first playing for the Angels – los Ángeles – in the Zorrilla League.
“I don’t want to stop throwing. I want to face the best hitters and get better,” Gracesqui said, referring to the competition offered by the league. “If I need to face the best hitters in New York, this is the place to be.”
The Zorrilla League’s teams are a mix of up-and-coming high schoolers, professional minor-leaguers and ex-MLB players who are pursuing their collective dream of playing baseball at its highest level. Mostly of Dominican heritage, Zorrilla’s players personify the growing Latin American population of East New York. Local residents fill the park on the weekends to watch the games, engage in conversation with neighbors and share home-made food; without fail, a game of dominoes will break out between the older men, many of whom once played in the Zorrilla League themselves.
Elizabeth Bonilla, the league’s secretary, habitually greets players and fans arriving at the field by name, with calls of “¿Hola mi amor, como estas?” (“Hello my love, how are you?”). Greetings between players, coaches and spectators bring to mind a family reunion: hugs, kisses on the cheek, lingering handshakes where the left hand automatically goes to the other person’s right shoulder to show added affection.
Nowhere is the sense of community more apparent than when players and fans greet the president of the league, Louis N. “Sonny” Hodge. “They call him ‘viejo’ or ‘old man’ when they see him,” said Bonilla. “But it’s a term of endearment. Everybody knows him here; we’re a big family.”
Hodge, 73, has been president of the league for the past nine years but has been involved with Zorrilla since he was a young man: “I know this league,” he said. “I’ve been a player, a coach, a manager, the vice president and now president. I came from Class-A up.”
And while his primary duty today is to ensure that the league continues to run smoothly, he also serves as part of the maintenance crew, often arriving at the baseball diamond hours before the scheduled first pitch to prep the pitcher’s mound and batter’s boxes. Hodge even fills in as the scorekeeper or the play-by-play announcer during the games, calling the action in his characteristic gravelly Spanish.
Though there’s no guarantee that any of the players in the Zorrilla League will get the fabled “call up to the show,” the occasional presence of MLB scouts at the games lends credibility to Hodge’s claim that Zorrilla offers some of the best independent-league baseball competition in the city.
To Ayala though, Zorrilla serves another, more intrinsic purpose: the opportunity to pass down his love of baseball to the next generation of players. As a coach in Brooklyn’s most historic Spanish baseball league, Ayala appreciates how Zorrilla functions as a teaching tool. “You can come here and watch the games and teach your son about how the game should be played,” he said, with a quick nod toward the fans seated in the bleachers. “The league has been around forever, so it’s taught a lot of kids baseball.”
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