The Bronx Bummer

By Robert Sullivan With Reporting by Amanda Bower and Roy B. White/The Bronx

Friday afternoon was warm and muggy in the Bronx, and the mood on the street was desultory, depressed. Hours earlier, Dominican officials had declared local hero Danny Almonte to be 14 years old, and in a few more hours, Little League officials would declare that, therefore, all games played by Danny's Rolando Paulino All-Star team--known as the Baby Bombers after their Big League neighbors at Yankee Stadium--were forfeit. The team's founder, Rolando Paulino, and Danny's father Felipe de Jesus Almonte were barred from Little League for life. "We were so proud these kids were on the front pages," said Julio Heredia as he stood outside a league practice field on Webster Avenue. "Now this."

Inside the Yankee Tavern, owner Joe Bastone cradled his cup of coffee and spoke for many: "It's all the adults' fault. Danny's father. Team management. They've disappointed a lot of people in this neighborhood. We took a personal interest in these kids."

It was hard to find a silver lining to the events and revelations that engulfed young Almonte last week--unless it's useful to have another cautionary parable on the books. "Clearly, adults have used Danny Almonte in a most contemptible and despicable way," said Stephen D. Keener, CEO and president of Little League Baseball, in rhetoric that fits the crime. "Their actions are reprehensible."

Those actions were: Felipe Almonte reportedly brought Danny to the U.S. from the Dominican Republic in June 2000 on a 12-month tourist visa, which would mean that for most of this season of his greatest baseball success, Danny was in the country illegally. His father held a birth certificate indicating his boy was born on April 7, 1989, and was therefore eligible for 12-and-under Little League play. Danny pitched for the Paulino team in the summer of 2000, and his performance--he had a real curveball to go along with his nasty heater--as well as the play of some teammates raised suspicions. Backers of a Staten Island team spent $10,000 on a private eye this summer, hoping to prove Paulino had been importing ringers from the D.R. The gumshoe came up empty.

The lies unraveled last week, after Danny had retired 18 batters in a row in a first-round World Series win, the first perfect game in a series since 1957; won the other three games he pitched; and helped the All-Stars finish third out of 16 teams. A SPORTS ILLUSTRATED reporter unearthed a copy of Danny's real birth certificate in his hometown, and by the time politicians were embracing the team at a city hall rally, everyone who wasn't on the stage was talking about the controversy. Then the New York Daily News revealed that Danny did not go to P.S. 70, as his father had claimed. By Friday, Danny and his dad had gone into hiding--fugitives from baseball.

Age scams plague Little League competition in the Caribbean region, particularly in Venezuela, the Dominican Republic and Cuba, where it feeds into the local industry of developing major league players for the U.S. market. But in America, the land of opportunity, perhaps no institution tries to speak more eloquently of getting a chance than Little League Baseball. Girls and boys who won't be good enough for high school ball, never mind the pros, have their turn at bat and also the opportunity to build friendships, learn teamwork, grow. The Danny Almonte case is a contravention of opportunity. What Felipe wanted most, it seems, was a chance for his son to play big-league baseball, and to seize this opportunity, he deprived his son of his boyhood and education. Danny's wrongful place on the team deprived another of a spot. His presence on the mound deprived the teams he faced of a chance to bat against a boy their size. The scandal's wreckage robbed his teammates--and the Bronx--of a moment in the sun.

Finally, back to Danny. He will be deprived in the years to come. If he can recover from the tumult of this episode, he will still be first the kid who got caught back in '01 and only second a remarkable pitcher. "I feel so bad for these kids," Bastone said, stirring his coffee as thunder sounded outside the Yankee Tavern. "Including the kid who was too old."

--With reporting by Amanda Bower and Roy B. White/the Bronx