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VII.
The first time I ever visited Centenera was on Saturday 1st December 1945. Opening Day. Of the season, and for the Rio Hondo Rojos. I remember it like it was yesterday.
I guess you’ve never been to Centenera. You really should. It’s a wonderful city. Even back when I was small, it was a sight to behold – so modern and new compared to the shambling towns in the tropical south and the compact little settlements among the hills back home in the east. It’s set at the very end of the big bay we call la Boca del Cielo, looking out towards Santa Madrona island, and the Caribbean beyond.
At the centre of town is La Casa Grande – the home of El Presidente. I can’t really describe the scale of it – it’s bigger than my house. It’s bigger than any house. I swear as a boy when I first saw it, it seemed bigger than the whole of Cazorla! And it sure is grand. It’s surrounded by huge grounds, and then they in turn are surrounded by a huge park – Parque Centrale. That’s where Los Metros had built their stadium – many people took that to mean that Los Metros were El Presidente’s team.
Now Rio Hondo had a population of about 7,000 people as I said. The Parque Centrale stadium had a capacity of over 10,000. And it was full to bursting that lunchtime when the teams came out to get the season started.
Not only was this the first professional baseball game I’d ever been to, it was the first game I’d watched where there had been any kind of crowd. And what a crowd! More people than I had ever seen. I sat up in the stand behind home plate with my father and my brother, and tried to take it all in. It was a bit scary, actually. I was sat there, nine years old, with my little red cap on, surrounded by thousands of shouting Centerera fanatics. Not that they caused any trouble of course – us Escondidans are passionate about our baseball, but we’re not crazy!
I think I’ve told you already that Los Metros finished last in 1942. But they were third in ’43 and second in ’44, so they were a good team, and we were a new squad playing our first game. The Metropolitanos faithful were expecting a walkover.
They started well, too – they were 5-0 up by the fourth inning. But we’d been getting a few hits, and we finally scored our first ever run in the seventh. Then we got one in the eighth as well. And in the ninth, something amazing happened.
Ánibal Tamargo led off by poking a single through into right. Then Esparza sent Armando Segura up to hit in place of the pitcher. He belted the ball all the way to the centerfield wall, and he flew round the bases. When he stopped, he’d ended up on third, and the score was 5-3. Next up was our lead-off hitter, Tony Correa. He worked the count all the way full I think, then knocked one into opposite field for a double. 5-4.
Roger Downey singled, and Dani Pacheco popped out. Then it was Javier Galván’s turn. Strike. Ball. Ball. Then he made contact. It flew out towards left, way over the fielder’s head. Over the fence and out of sight. I’d never seen a hit like it. 3 runs! 7-5! My brother and I were jumping around shouting and dancing. We were getting some looks I can tell you! Two small happy boys in red, amidst a sea of green. My father kept his cool of course, but he must have been beaming inside.
Everything after that was just a blur. I was too excited to focus on the last half inning. But I sure do remember that we won. Los Rojos had beaten Los Metros. We had beaten them!
Looking back, I can see it was just one game. One game in a season of dozens and a history of thousands. But at the time, it was so much more than that…
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