Hispanic Fanatic

I’m a big baseball fan, which I’ve mentioned before. As such, Mark McGwire’s admission this week that he was juicing is a depressing development, even if it’s the least surprising news since the observation that rain can get you wet.

McGwire will always be associated with his fellow power hitter (and probable steroid user) Sammy Sosa, who retired a few years ago. Like most pro athletes who hang it up, Sosa has more or less kept a low profile. Still, when he did pop up recently, it was in alarming fashion. Compare his complexion in the two photographs (try to ignore his wife’s cleavage):

Yes, the guy is several shades whiter. Sosa couldn’t just ignore the questions about his newfound albinism, so he claimed that he had undertaken a “skin-rejuvenation process” and exceeded the recommended dosage. Think of it as the movie “Soul Man” but in reverse.

However, many in the Hispanic and black communities don’t buy Sosa’s explanation, especially since he also started wearing green contact lenses. As such, the former Cubs great has been accused of trying to bleach his skin and make himself whiter, both figuratively and literally. He has, in essence, been labeled as a self-loathing Hispanic who has adopted the “colonizer mentality.”

Now, readers with naturally fair complexions may ask several questions. For example, what is a colonizer mentality? Also, why would a person want to appear whiter, especially if everyone knows that he’s actually dark-skinned? And finally, is the movie “Soul Man” available on Blu-Ray?

Well, I can answer some of these inquiries. First, the colonizer mentality refers to the fact that virtually all of Latin America, at some point in history, has been ruled by European or North American powers. These rulers – either by direct decree or social implication – told natives that fair-skinned people were better, smarter, hotter, and more respectable than the dark-skinned heathens. A person who has internalized this mentality will therefore do whatever he can to appear whiter, even if he comes out looking like a freak-show attraction.

Sosa is a native of the Dominican Republic, where people tend to be black (remember that Latinos can be of any race). According to the blogger Grio, “there is a profound and entrenched problem of racism and discrimination… against blacks within Dominican society.” This is the colonizer mentality in action.

So is Sosa guilty of caving in to this loathsome mindset? Or is he just a dumb jock who couldn’t follow medication instructions? Only Sosa knows, and he’s sticking to his original story.

Regardless, we can all be grateful that the colonizer mentality is just an issue in Latin America. In the United States, at least, we don’t judge people based on their skin color.

That could lead to problems.

In my previous post, I wrote about my love of baseball.

No sooner had a I written it than Manny Ramirez – that highly talented, hulking, crazy-eyed freak show on the LA Dodgers – got himself banned for fifty games for taking performance-enhancing drugs.

There’s a whole debate over why certain efforts to gain an edge – popping fistfuls of “vitamins” or sleeping in oxygen tents – are ok, but injecting a liquid is a punishable offense. We can look deeper and examine the themes of hypocrisy, American hyper-competitiveness, hero worship, and misguided priorities. But I’ll leave that to the sports bloggers.

What I found interesting is that when the news broke, it was “Manny” this and “Manny” that. It reinforced my observation that white sports stars tend to be referred to by their last names. Hispanic and black athletes, however, are often called by their first names.

If this is true (and the evidence is only anecdotal), is it a sign of disrespect or a display of affection? Does it mean anything at all?

I first noted this about a decade ago when Mark McGuire and Sammy Sosa were in their epic homerun race. The references to “Sammy” were ubiquitous, while I don’t recall anyone calling the St. Louis slugger “Mark.”

Similarly, in debates of greatest pitchers of recent history, there’s a lot of talk about Clemens, Johnson, Maddux… and Pedro (as in Martinez). Even when the white athlete has an uncommon moniker (I’m looking at you, Chipper Jones), he usually gets the last-name treatment. That’s not always the case with, say, the very troubled Ramirez (as we see here).

Perhaps this is all just overanalysis. But at the very least, maybe some sociology grad student out there can use my observation as the basis for a dissertation. Just give me credit for the idea.

Let me give a quick thanks to Macon D and Xey for their comments on my last post (“A Latino Rodney King”). They agreed with my conclusion, which is great. But let me also thank Turtle, who disagreed with me. It’s good to get a free flow of ideas going.

But because the last couple of posts have been so serious, I’d like to lighten up with his one.

Like millions of other American males, I love baseball. It is the only sport I follow religiously, and it is one of the few topics that I feel comfortable talking about at length without fear of coming across as ignorant (deluded and opinionated perhaps, but not wholly unknowledgeable).

So I’m thrilled that the season has started again. My team is above .500, and their efforts should be a cause for alternating bouts of joy, frustration, disbelief, and relief for the next five months or so.

Perhaps my fondness for this most pastoral of games has a cultural basis. As you may know, baseball is incredibly popular in Latin America, trailing only soccer. But I’m convinced that a lot of the enthusiasm for that foot-based sport is glee over the announcers yelling, “Gooooal!,” which is more entertaining than the games.

More likely, my appreciation for baseball is because of its inherent, tension-ratcheting drama (the very aspect that critics mislabel as “boring.”) And I’ve always been fascinated with its history, which has often served as a metaphor for America itself. For an obvious example, look no farther than the great Jackie Robinson for an instant analysis of racial relations.

As such, it’s disappointing that Hispanics are shut out when it comes to one aspect of the game. That’s right, the whole controversy over team nicknames has excluded us.

Native Americans can get up in arms over the Atlanta Braves or Cleveland Indians. But Latinos are unlikely to protest the San Diego Padres. It’s just not the same.

In fact, the whole issue of offensive names has a distinctly Native American flair to it. There have been arguments about various collegiate Fighting Sioux teams, and overt hostility toward the NFL’s Washington Redskins (a moniker so pejorative that I can’t see how it’s even open to debate).

But what do we Hispanics have? The UC-Santa Barbara Gauchos are unlikely to incur our wrath. Similarly, we just aren’t going to lose our minds if anybody decides to call themselves “The Amigos,” which would be the least terrifying team name ever.

On second thought, that honor probably rests with the UC-Santa Cruz Fighting Banana Slugs:

Yes, it can be difficult to be left out of a racial/ethnic controversy, but I guess we’re just going to have to let this one pass. So I say, good luck to those Native Americans who are fighting the good cultural fight. Latinos can offer you no more than moral support.

Let me add, however, that I’m part Irish. As such, I’m offended that Notre Dame has chosen some brawling, drunken leprechaun as its mascot…

No, I’m just trying too hard now. Forget it.