The Phillies: Venezuela's team
The Phils lead the majors in Venezuelans, with seven this season, but Freddy Galvis warns the pipeline is drying up.
ATLANTA - When Elvis Araujo jogged in from the visiting bullpen to the mound at Turner Field on Tuesday night, he was able to shake off some of the big-league butterflies that are natural for anyone in his major league debut.
All Araujo had to do was look behind him to see the defense he had up the middle: shortstop Freddy Galvis, second baseman Cesar Hernandez and centerfielder Odubel Herrera.
The same Venezuelan trio was back in those positions when Araujo, also Venezuelan, pitched out of the 'pen again on Wednesday. Araujo replaced fellow Venezuelan reliever Jeanmar Gomez to begin the seventh inning against the Braves, and, when it was time for a pinch-hitter the next half-inning, Araujo was replaced with veteran utility infielder Andres Blanco, another Venezuelan.
"It's great," said Araujo, who has been a big-leaguer for less than a week. "It feels like home."
Add fellow lefthander Cesar Jimenez to the mix - he was on the roster in April - and the Phillies have had seven Venezuelan-born players on their roster after a little more than a month of play in 2015. It's the most in the major leagues and more than twice as many as all but three other teams - Kansas City and Detroit both have five Venezuelan-born players and San Francisco has four.
"It makes you feel comfortable, you know?" said Galvis, whose team-high .330 batting average ranks 10th in the National League. "You always have someone around."
Galvis is going to enjoy the home cooking in the Phillies' clubhouse for as long as it lasts. He's been troubled for some time by the political and economical issues that plague his home country - and he's aware of the effect it is having on baseball.
According to a recent Wall Street Journal story, only four major league teams will have affiliates play in Major League Baseball's Venezuelan Summer League: the Detroit Tigers, Chicago Cubs, Tampa Bay Rays, and, you guessed it, the Phillies.
"Seattle does," Blanco said, referring to the team whose best pitcher, Felix Hernandez, hails from Valencia.
No, according to the story; the Mariners - whose Venezuelan facilities were raided by gunmen who robbed staff and players about 10 years ago - recently moved out, too.
"Wow," Blanco said.
"Yeah, just four," Galvis said. "It used to be 16 or 17. It's really bad."
The shrinking number of big-league organizations with Venezuelan academies - where talented teenagers would be signed by clubs and then trained into budding pros in the comfort of their home country - means a shrinking number of Venezuelan kids who will get the opportunity to leave their country and earn a living for their families.
The Felix Hernandezes and Miguel Cabreras will still find work; scouts are still permitted in the country, although Galvis said it's no longer as easy as it used to be. But the younger players who aren't identified early as can't-miss, Cabrera-types will easily be overlooked. They won't have the same opportunities Galvis and many of the 68 current Venezuelan big-leaguers received.
"Like Cesar," Galvis said, referring to his doubleplay partner in Atlanta. "Cesar started in an academy. And now he's a big-leaguer. Now, there are only a few choices, only a few guys who get to play."
While the Phillies have been fortunate this season, the future of Venezuela's top export is in danger.
"The best athlete Venezuela has is baseball players," Galvis said. "That's what we do. That's what they make. Baseball players. So now you're kicking out academies from the [United States]? What that means is we're not going to have as many players. We'll have two or three [on teams]. Seven or eight years ago, you'd have 300 to 400 guys signing and they're making their families rich. Now? It's like 60. Or maybe 80. It's crazy."
"Rich" is a relative term. Given the current climate in Venezuela, the bolivar, the country's currency, has little value.
As Galvis explained it, if a person making an average salary in Venezuela wanted to buy an iPhone, for about 80,000 bolivars, it would take about 2 years' salary to afford it. A flight to America? Keep dreaming.
"Say the minimum you make in a month is 6,000 bolivars," Galvis said. "You go to a supermarket and you want to shop for a whole month, you have to spend, like, 10,000. So how are you going to buy food?"
And even if you have money to buy food . . .
"It's not like 10 years ago, when you can go and get whatever you want," Galvis said. "Now you have to get in line. And you get whatever they have. And sometimes you have to wait two or three days because they don't have food . . . If you want to buy three chickens, they said, no, you have to buy one. It's the same with toilet paper, toothpaste, everything."
Galvis went on to say that the government has silenced the media, and that the police force is corrupt, too. Although his own home is removed from the city, crime is rampant nearly everywhere because poor and hungry people are desperate.
"My brother has a music studio," Galvis said. "He was out front talking to a few friends and one car just came up, two guys come out with a gun and they stole cellphones, wallets, everything."
His brother is OK, Galvis said. His country, though, is not.
"I think we're going backward," Galvis said. "For real. I think - I don't have anything against Cuba, but that's the way we're going right now. The way it used to be in Cuba. That's how it's going for us right now."