We weren’t the first picks — in fact, all of us weren’t picked at all. We were the leftovers, the last ones standing; they told us to come back next year. Too slow, too small, too inexperienced those were the labels we wore. But instead of giving up, we built our own team thanks to the resiliency and support of our founder and manager, Fraser (rhymes with Lazer).
At first, people saw a bunch of misfits trying to play a game we supposedly weren’t good enough for. But we had something the other teams didn't have, something to prove and everything to fight for. Every practice, even through those dog days of summer in LA, we would get together and play with heart. We hustled and supported each other. We didn’t have the best stats, but we had the best chemistry.
It's not about scoreboards, or trophies. For me, sandlot baseball represents a time when the game was simple and joyful, when every hit felt like a home run and every catch felt like a highlight. What started as a team of “leftovers” and became a family. We didn’t just grow as players, we grew as people. We learned how to believe in ourselves when others didn’t, how to turn rejection into fuel, and how to rise above every expectation set against us.
By the end of the season, we weren’t just a team. We were a reminder that “Hard work beats talent when talent doesn't work hard” and that sometimes, the best teams are made from the ones no one saw coming. Sandlot baseball is a memory and a mindset. It's where I reignited my passion for the game, built friendships, and felt the magic that made me fall in love with baseball in the first place.
-Raul Contreras
Los Angeles Dingoes
