In La Loma, the small town of quiet farms in a southeast sliver of the Dominican Republic, just far enough away from a big city to be nearly forgotten, the neighbors know Raimel Tapia as the little boy with a bat in his hands.
“They watched me grow up,” Tapia said.
If there was daylight, he was playing baseball in the yard on his family’s farm. If there was a ball to hit, he would hit. Tapia was barely bigger than a bat back then. He was just 16 years old when the Rockies signed him to a professional contract in 2010. He has since circled the United States on his way to a starting spot in left field in Colorado.
Advertisement
When he returned home to La Loma last month, forced into isolation like the rest of baseball, sheltering from a global pandemic, Tapia got right back to hitting in the yard.
“I am at the farm practicing,” he said, “and yes, next to my animals.”
Neighbors still knew him as the kid from back when. They looked out for him. Now he is a 26-year-old big-leaguer and Tapia figured it was time to look out for them in return.
As of Monday night, the Dominican Republic had counted nearly 3,000 cases of coronavirus infections within their borders, with 173 deaths, according to the World Health Organization. That would account for fewer numbers of infections but a far higher fatality rate than Colorado, for example. A cluster of confirmed cases broke out in San Pedro, the biggest, nearest city to Tapia’s hometown, including a local senator.
Much like the United States, testing is not widespread, so official counts are likely inaccurate and underreported. And the medical center in La Loma is not equipped to handle virus infections. The nearest available hospital is in San Pedro.
“The situation of the virus here is stronger and worse each day,” Tapia said through a translator. “I don’t know how many people are sick, but it’s worse each day. We are all worried about the situation.”
So Tapia found a store that sells masks and gloves and he bought enough to cover La Loma for a year. He put on a mask and bagged the supplies and some food in plastic sacks and delivered them door-to-door, like reverse trick-or-treating. He was the masked man, el hombre enmascarado.
“I couldn’t stay in my house eating and watching them be hungry without hope of eating for a few days,” Tapia said. “The reaction of my neighbors made me want to cry. They looked at my face like saying, ‘Thank you God for sending this child to give me food.’”
Just more than a month ago, the Rockies broke Cactus League camp in Arizona when Major League Baseball halted its operations to shelter in place. Players scattered to return home. They were given a vague directive to keep in shape to start back into spring at any moment. Be ready for anything, as Colorado manager Bud Black told them. And be safe.
Advertisement
Tapia flew back La Loma to be with his family, including three brothers who all played professional baseball. It was a difficult trip, Tapia said, knowing he would be away from the game for weeks or months. He is removed from his team, one of seven players on Colorado’s major-league roster who live outside the United States. But Tapia settled into something like an offseason routine, training with his brothers on the farm.
He did the same over the winter when a roster spot was waiting for his arrival. Now out of minor-league options, Tapia had nowhere to go but into Colorado’s starting lineup. Late last year, the Rockies and Black, their manager, decided to phase out Ian Desmond for a starting spot in left, part of a move that put David Dahl into a full-time role in center field. Tapia, then, was their No. 1 left fielder in waiting.
“I think Tap is what you’d refer to as a natural hitter,” Black said last month. “He’s worked hard on his swing. His essence of hitting is bat-to-ball skills. From the time he was hitting in the backfields of the Dominican, he was able to put the bat to the ball.”
Tapia’s season of ascension will wait, along with the rest of baseball, while he shelters from a pandemic, swinging through a routine of practices in his backyard, saying hello to neighbors through a mask or from a short distance.
“It’s hard not playing right now, but the most important thing is being healthy,” Tapia said. “And when we can play again, we will be hungry to start playing. What I miss the most are the fans and my teammates and going to hit with mucho swagger.”
(Photo: Russell Lansford / USA Today)