Silverio drives past clapboard houses in pastel colors that offer no cheer. As Silverio and fellow scout Carlos Pascual approach Haiti, rice fields give way to desolate landscapes of brush and cacti. The baseball field in Villa Vasquez is no more inviting. Youngsters in mismatched uniforms wait to try out. The field is full of stones, holes and sticks.
First base is an empty cement bag.
Trash is piled near the dugout. Every field, however, carries the promise of a great discovery. But you never know where you'll find that special player. Soon, dozens are enjoying the event. They peek over the scouts' shoulders to read the radar gun that measures the speed of pitches.