New Heights in Mexico City

A small market club looks at going big.

– Samson Barnes, CBA Prospectus

“My jaw dropped. Literally. I couldn’t believe what I was reading. I checked the tweet dozens of times to make sure it wasn’t some kind of prank.”  Eugenio Ector relates this story with a beatific smile. Eugenio has been a supporter and season ticket holder of the Mexico City Chupacabras for ten years. Born and raised just inside the shadow of the Estadio Azteca, Ector’s relationship with the Chupacabras feels more familial than fanboy. When I point this out to him he nods enthusiastically.

“Exactly. That is exactly it. These guys, they aren’t like big time baseball stars. They’re MY guys.”

When faced with the prospect of rooting for a small market team, smart fans tend to figure out pretty quickly that dreaming about trophies and championships is only going to leave you unsatisfied. It makes more sense to think of these players as something more akin to a distant cousin or interesting neighbor. You love the team, and you cheer for them, but your hopes lie with the players. That’s the way it has been for Eugenio and for the thousands of other fans who repeatedly show up day after day to the Estadio Azteca. The Chupacabras weren’t ever going to make their mark on the premier league, but a guy like Cesar Velazquez just might.

“Cesar was the best to ever wear the Chupa shirt.” Ector, who has struck me as someone who rarely seems to find great value in being serious, is stone faced about this take. Disagreeing with him would be fighting words. I’m not going to test that.

Cesar plies his trade in Toronto now. Toronto are the kind of perennial contenders that the Chupacabras aren’t. The Mythics boast a comparably astronomical payroll and some of the best players the sport has to offer. For Mexico City fans, it’s important to cheer for guys like Cesar. They want to see them win even if, especially if in fact, it’s with a bigger ballclub.

“You see some fans, you know, of other teams they act like a player moving onto bigger and better things is a betrayal. Call them traitors. Boo them if they see them. I never understood that. Maybe it’s stupid, but a guy like Cesar, when he’s up there in the Premier League, to me, it feels like I’m there with him.” Eugenio blushes a bit. We’re sitting at a cafe just across the street from the stadium. Behind the register there’s a signed Cesar Velasquez jersey pinned to the wall a bit haphazardly. Ector follows my eyes to it and smiles.

“I’ve got one of those too. Hell, most fans do. Cesar must have signed ten thousand shirts over the years. I know they won’t be worth much money, but they mean a lot to all of us.”

I smile politely and ask him the question I’m here to ask him and other Mexico City fans.

So what now?

It’s an interesting question. Things are certainly about to change for the Chupacabras. That small club charm may not be there for much longer.  Dustyn Richardson, the most successful General Manager in CBA history, shocked the baseball world when he suddenly announced that he was departing his beloved Galveston Gremlins, and taking over the Mexico City Chupacabras.  It’s the kind of move that makes sense on a narrative level. It feels like something that would happen in a Disney film. This isn’t the kind of thing that actually happens in real life, but it did this time.

“It’s probably not going to be great for business in the short-term.” Illeana Callejo points at a couple of racks of shirts that are marked 70% off. I spot a lot of Keegan Shaheens, and a Dustyn Buckley or two. There’s a pile of Phil Wheelers and Lincoln Gravers on a small card table in front. The jerseys clearly aren’t official CBA merchandise, but they look considerably better than the usual counterfeits you see on the sidewalks outside of most stadiums. I point this out to Illeana and she winks. I ask her why her jerseys look so good, and she just shakes her head playfully. I can tell follow-up questions won’t be answered.

“I can’t really sell shirts that say “First round draft pick 2061” on them”, her slight frown bends seamlessly into a rueful smile. “Actually, that might be kind of funny. I might try to do that.”

Illeana knows what the rest of Mexico City fans are about to come to terms with. It probably isn’t going to be a super fun season to cheer for the Chupacabras. Most of their favorites have been shipped out in exchange for future considerations. It’s the right thing for a new GM to do with a team that needs a complete overhaul, but some of those relationships with players that are so important to the supporters have been unceremoniously severed and replaced with promises of a better future.

“It’s a good thing though.” Illeana says this with conviction. “It’s different. It’s new. Thinking about the Chupacabras getting promoted, it’s something I’ve never thought to be that realistic, but now… What if it is? That can only be a good thing. I love this team and I want more people to love this team.”

Eugenio echoes this sentiment. “I think it’s going to change everything. I know it may reshape the way the team feels, but who doesn’t want to win a Tournament of Champions? Who doesn’t want to be in the Premier League? Can you imagine what these streets are going to look like when we get promoted?”

I can’t help but join him in this daydream. We stare at the empty stadium hearing horns blaring and crowds roaring. It sounds great.

Eugenio realizes what we’re both doing and laughs. He pounds me on the back. “Still a few years away though huh?” I nod. I could talk about the draft picks and the players that may come from them. There’s a huge list we keep at the office ranking young ball players according to their stats and their projected talents. There are some good names on that list and a lot of those names are going to be Chupacabras someday. But that’s someday. There’s a lot of work to do between now and then. I say this to Eugenio. He nods knowingly, but that wry smile doesn’t leave his face. It doesn’t leave mine either.

“Maybe this is the best part” I say and he nods. “It’s probably not going to be a good year, but…” he trails off for a few moments, but that season a few years down the line… That year is going to be good enough for all of the ones it takes to get there. I try to flag down an employee to pay the check. Eugenio laughs and pushes my hand down. He waves to a guy wearing a faded Chupacabra hat behind the counter. The guy waves back. We leave without any money exchanging hands. I’m not sure what happened, but everybody seems okay with it.

The sun has gotten brighter while we were inside talking, so we have to shade our eyes to take a last long look at the Azteca. “Just imagine it.” he says, and I do. I can’t help it.

Samson is a lifelong CBA fan and former high-school JV player. In addition to his regular contributions to CBA Prospectus, he also hosts the weekly podcast “Heading Home”, which you can find on your podcast app of choice.