Rebel to Rookie:

The Long, Strange Journey of Roberto García — An Oral History

The beginning: Sept. 19, 2008: García at age 15, taking part in a protest in San Salvador.  A photographer with the French wire service Agence France-Presse captured this shot of him throwing eggs at the Presidenial motorcade.  That strong throwing arm will prove useful in the LRS.

 

[Editor’s note: As the Ghosts begin the 2018 season, they have named their top Latin American prospect, Roberto García, as the team’s starting shortstop.  This comes after three years in the minors and, this past month, a tremendous spring training in which García hit .354 with 18 RBI.  Making his rise in the LRS unusual is that García was a revolutionary in his native El Salvador.  We asked him, and the scout who discovered him, to recount the journey.]

 

 

Roberto García:  I was born Roberto Miguel Hernandez García on May 6, 1993 on the outskirts of Quezaltepeque, about 15 kilometers from the capital San Salvador.  My father was Roberto Miguel Perez Hernandez.  He was a revolutionary.  His father was Roberto Miguel Sanchez Perez.  He was a revolutionary.  I am the oldest of six children.  For as long as I can remember, I have wanted to be a revolutionary.  And, I have wanted to play baseball.

 

I didn’t play organized ball until I was about 13.  It was a loosely-organized league that covered the countryside, mainly for older kids, but immediately I could kick ass.  I played at short, in centerfield, and wherever they put me, I kicked ass.  I even pitched.  No one could touch me.  Other kids, and a lot of adults who followed the games, started looking at me differently.  By 14, I was playing against adults.  We had lousy equipment.  The fields were a mess.  The balls had stitching that constantly frayed.  Didn’t matter.  And it didn’t matter who I played, I kicked ass.

 

A couple of years later, I hooked up with some other guys.  Their dads and brothers were in rebel factions that dotted the countryside, and I guess I found it easy.  My father was a rebel, after all.  The kids tried to follow the older guys, but we didn’t have guns.  At least at first.  So we did pranks and joined in protests.  One day we hooked a ride into the capital and threw stuff at a motorcade.  A French photographer caught me egging the cars.  It got in the paper.  (Laughs)  My first brush with fame.

 

By 2010 I’d joined the LNLF.  It was a great group of guys, but we didn’t have much funding.  Some Marxist groups in Russia and the States funelled cash to us on occasion, but usually we didn’t have much to get by on.  Still I was fully committed.

 

Indoctrinated:  Summer, 2010: García, then 17,  becomes a rising member of the Letona National Liberation Front, or LNLF, one of the most radical guerilla groups in El Salvador.

 

I remember the day I told my father I was joining up.  He gave me a stern look.  “Roberto,” he said, “the life of a freedom fighter is not a job.  It is not a career.  It is not glamorous and it is actually not very exciting.  Most of the time you are sitting around.  Sometimes you shoot at people and sometimes you and your friends will get shot and die.  Or, you end up in jail.  So only do this if you understand that this not a career.  It is a cause.”

 

Mitsuhide Komatsu, Ghosts Director of Scouting:  I have good contacts throughout Latin America.  For several months in 2012 and into 2013, I was hearing rumors about some phenomenal Salvadoran kid who lit up the ball field, but then had disappeared into the jungle as a revolutionary.  At first I ignored them, but the rumors persisted.  So I sent word to one of my Central American contacts to locate him.  It took him five months.  By spring of ‘14 we’d found him.  “You have to see this kid,” I was told.  So I booked the next flight to San Salvador, and then hired a guide.

 

García:  We’d play pick-up games, and some of the rebel groups even played one another.  The competition was horrible, worse than anything I’d experienced.  I missed even the mediocre competition of the organized leagues I’d been in.  But still, I played.  I love the game.  I couldn’t get enough of it.  Then one day this Japanese guy shows up and just sits down and watches us play.

 

We don’t normally like strangers wandering about our encampments, but we could all tell he was a baseball guy.  He watched and watched.  Didn’t say a word.

 

Komatsu:  I paid a lot of people a lot of bribes to locate him.  And it took many days.  It was worth it.  The kid was every bit as good as I’d been told, I could tell that immediately.  I felt nervous.  Why?  First of all, unlike all the other kids I scout, I wasn’t sure this one even wanted to play professional baseball.  The rest are dying to sign a contract.  This García kid, he was a rebel.  Maybe politics matter more than fame and riches.  Who knew?

 

And I was also nervous because I knew I’d found a gem.  For a scout, this was once-in-a-lifetime.  Everyone else I scout is already known to all the other scouting directors, to all the other organizations, not just in the LRS but also in PEBA.  There are no secrets, no surprises.  Except this kid.  He could be a bust, sure, but the raw talent was in abundance.

 

And no one else knew about him!

 

García:  Eventually the Japanese guy introduced himself.  We spoke in English, which was a second language for both of us.  He asked if I would come play in the League of the Rising Sun.  I’d heard of PEBA, of course.  I’d known of a few kids who had been drafted or signed minor league free agent deals in PEBA, but never went far.  But Japan?  Was baseball that big there?

 

I told him no, no, no.  I remembered my father’s words.  “This is not a career.  It is a cause.”  How could I just walk away from the cause?  I’d be a hypocritic.  The same kind of hypocritics who run our government, who claim to feel for the poor but actually just make themselves rich.  That, I couldn’t bear.  So I told him no.  No!  NO!

 

Komatsu:  I spent days there.  I took my time convincing him to sign.  I didn’t want to seem like I was pressuring him.  But I explained what kind of career he could have in the LRS.  What that could mean for him, for his family.  Eventually I left the contract for him, and went back to my hotel in San Salvador.  When I left, I wasn’t sure I’d ever see him again.

 

If I lost this signing, I was certain I would never scout again.  What would be the point?  I’d never discover such a talent in the middle of nowhere.  I couldn’t see how I could go on after losing Roberto.

 

García:  My father surprised me whe I told him about the offer.  I thought he would scold me for even considering walking away from the cause.  He would say this proved I was never really committed.  He would think poorly of me.

 

But instead he leaned back and rubbed his mustache and simply smiled.  “If you succeed in baseball,” he told me, “you will have a life beyond any of our dreams.  Leave this silly little war, Roberto.  Go play baseball.”

 

And so I signed.

 

Komatsu:  I came back to Japan and explained to the gaijin GM about the kid.  I told him he was the real thing, and he wasn’t going to show up in any draft pool.  Roberto was all ours.  The GM was skeptical.  But later, after seeing the kid play, he gave me a raise and an extension.

 

But the money didn’t matter.  What mattered most is what has happened now — Roberto has made the big league team!  As starting shortstop!  My discovery, my secret — and now everyone in Japan knows about him!

Fame in the East: April, 2018: During a torrid spring training, García is interviewed on the nationally-broadcast program “Good Morning Japan.”  The bubbly, perky hosts steer clear of discussing his controversial activities as a revolutionary..

 

García:  I miss home.  I miss my parents and my sisters.  I Skype them a lot.  All of my sisters are joining the Front.  They tell me to stay in Japan and make a lot of money.  That way I can fund the rebellion.  And they’re right.  If I stick in this league, I could make a lot of money a few years down the road.

 

Still, I miss home.  I miss my family.  And I miss the cause.

 

I am Roberto Miguel Hernandez García.  For as long as I can remember, I wanted to be a revolutionary.  But now, I play baseball.

His legacy: May, 2018: As García sends money home, his five youngers sisters have taken up the rebel cause.

RORBERTO García: A TIMELINE

05/06/1993    Born in Quezaltepequ, El Salvador

06/11/2006    Plays organized baseball for the first time at age 13.  Quickly becomes top player in this 12-16 year old league, playing every position including pitcher.

09/19/2008    Takes part in first organized anti-government protest.  Arrested for disorderly conduct, but later released as a juvenile.

2008-2010     Continues playing in weekend baseball while participating in occasional rebel activities.

04/19/2010    Formally joins Letona National Liberation Front, a radical guerilla organization named for the late revolutionary Lillian Mercedes Letona.

06/29/2012    Arrested with three others on charges of treason.  Later released for lack of evidence.  Prosecutor’s farm is later vandalized.

09/13/2014    Meets Niihama scouting director Mitsuhide Komatsu, who had travelled into Salvadoran jungle after hearing rumors of “the next Ozzie Smith.”  

01/28/2015    Signed a minor league contract with the Niihama-shi Ghosts organization.

03/15/2015    Leaves El Salvador for Japan to begin play with Single-A Gakidou Onryou

11/06/2015    Named Minor League Hitter of the Year by the Niihama-shi Ghosts organization.

05/02/2016    Named the #50 prospect in the LRS-JPN

08/06/2016    Injured (torn ankle ligaments), out for 3 months.

05/08/2017    Named the #34 prospect in the LRS-JPN

11/10/2017    Named Minor League Hitter of the Year by the Niihama-shi Ghosts organization.

05/07/2018    Named the #10 prospect in the LRS-JPN

05/07/2018    Named starting shortstop for the Ghosts