It was a typically beautiful Friday afternoon on the eastern shore of the Dominican Republic, humid and bright. Throughout the resort-filled region of Punta Cana, scores of pasty, obnoxious tourists were dipping their toes in the shimmering, turquoise ocean water, being hustled at a local market into buying bottles full of wood chips and spices, or simply relaxing and enjoying una fria by the pool.
But at one of those resorts, one of those pasty, obnoxious tourists was bellying up to the bar in an indoor lounge, noticing a Bundesliga game flickering on the television screen and asking the bartender a rather unexpected question.
"¡Hola! Do you have the Dominican Republic game on TV?"
Oscar, the bartender, was incredulous.
"We play soccer in the Dominican?!"
[PRBREAK][/PRBREAK]
Sorry to break the journalistic fourth wall, but the pasty, obnoxious tourist in question was me. And sure, I'm aware that staff are essentially paid to pretend that the world outside the resort walls doesn't exist (lest they start making troublesome inquiries). So I didn't think the country was going to shut down for a game being played on home soil against El Salvador.
But Oscar seemed genuinely surprised to learn that his country had a national soccer team at all.
"Where do they play?" he asked.
"In San Cristóbal," I said -- specifically, the Estadio Panamericano (capacity 2,800), where all three of the nation's home games are being played in this round of World Cup qualifying.
"Ohhhh, San Cristóbal," he said, both correcting my pronunciation and implying (through his tone) that this was some out-of-the-way venue where weirdos with unpopular pursuits gathered to cheer for whatever silly sport it is that they watched.
"What game is it?" he asked. "What competition?"
What competition? It's the World Cup, man! The biggest sporting tournament in the world! A whole extra round was created so little countries like this would have the chance to indulge in a bit more participation in this global behemoth of athletic glory! Are you kidding?!
"It's World Cup qualifying. Against El Salvador. It will be a difficult game for the Dominican Republic."
No kidding. Not only that, but a loss would eliminate the country from the competition. You'd all have to wait another four long years for another chance, however minute, at making the big dance. Doesn't that worry you?!
"Oh yeah, the World Cup," he said, pausing. "Yeah, nobody really watches soccer here, you know. Baseball, basketball, maybe some auto racing too."
It's worth noting that Oscar was eminently polite and not dismissive of my words or the sport. For all I know, maybe I just happened to stumble upon the one and only Dominican fellow who couldn't give two whiffs about the beautiful game. I was planning to ask some of the vendors at the local market, but was strongly advised not to talk to, shake hands with or look at any of them, lest I end up voluntarily separated from large quantities of cash in exchange for gaudy trinkets.
The evidence, though, seems weighted toward Oscar representing the majority. For instance, while the Estadio Olímpico Félix Sánchez (capacity 35,000) in Santo Domingo (the capital) is listed as the Dominican Republic's national stadium, it isn't hosting any of these World Cup qualifiers. The games have instead been shuffled off to the city of San Cristóbal, with a tenth of the population (albeit a really cool mayor).
Maybe the idea is to put all three games in one place and let the crowd grow organically -- which is a rather ham-fisted and grossly inaccurate way of comparing the Estadio Panamericano to BMO Field. However, though I'm willing to be proven wrong, I'm fairly certain there's no Dominican equivalent of the Voyageurs or a "support local soccer" movement down there.
In fact, most other comparisons between Canada and the Dominican Republic would likely be way off the mark. There is, though, one that sticks: It's a nation that loves its successful athletes, but appears to have a very singular focus when it comes to sport. Dominicans love baseball. And when you look at the list of players they've produced in the last 30 years, it's clear that they're very, very good at it.
As for us? We've got hockey. I don't need a link to a list of Canadian players; just read the roster of, well, any NHL team that's played in the last 100 years. As for soccer? I've encountered numerous Canadians who've reacted with the same shock as Oscar did at learning of the nation's footie endeavours -- though, up here, the shock is usually tinged with sardonic scorn.
But then, that's nothing new. It's also nothing unique. Even in a warm, sports-loving, Spanish-speaking CONCACAF nation, soccer fans are met with reactions ranging from intrigue to outrage.
For what it's worth, the Dominican Republic lost to El Salvador, 2-1, officially ending the country's World Cup 2014 dreams. I had to check this on the Internet later since, despite valiant channel-flipping by Oscar, the game was nowhere to be found on Dominican television. There was also no subsequent national malaise that I could discern.
Later that day, of course, Canada cakewalked over Saint Lucia and will be greeted by a raucous (and growing) crowd of supporters on Tuesday evening at BMO Field. Maybe that really is all it takes. Maybe it really is all about winning. Maybe, a few decades hence, a golden generation of Dominican footballers will lift the national team from obscurity and fill the Estadio Olímpico Félix Sánchez for a meaningful qualifying game.
First thing's first, though, from a Canadian perspective. We are still fighting hard to emerge from the global and domestic soccer wilderness. But at least we aren't the only ones.
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