In Gay League, Myths Strike Out

Michael Schneider sits in the dugout at Van Nuys Sherman Oaks Park with his buddies, recalling the times he played Little League baseball as a kid in Detroit.

As an adult, Schneider both missed the competition and was looking for a way to stay fit. He was determined to play sports again, but didn’t see any teams or leagues he liked--until he came across the Los Angeles Batboys, a softball team of gay men.

“I love the sport, and I needed to get some exercise back in my life,” said Schneider, 43. “Playing in this team has really helped me appreciate the sport and who I am.”

It’s Schneider’s turn to step up to the plate during a recent Sunday afternoon game. The first pitch is swung on and missed. Strike one.

The second pitch is also swung on and missed. Strike two.

The pitcher pauses for a moment, then throws the ball. Schneider swings and slams the ball to right field. It’s a triple.

The next batter hits a single, sending Schneider home. Fellow Batboys congratulate Schneider with high fives. Some hug him, and one bestows a kiss.

The Batboys are one of 31 teams in the Greater Los Angeles Softball Assn., a gay league established 21 years ago.

Some see the ballclub largely as a place to meet other gay men and socialize. Others see it as a welcome alternative to the gay bar scene.

For Jose Garcia of North Hollywood, it was a matter of finding out what it was like to play a sport for the first time. As a youth, he was considered antisocial. But after watching a few games with his partner, Freddie Mendoza, the couple decided to join the Batboys.

“It was weird seeing all those gay men playing ball the first time I watched,” said Garcia, 31. “People assume that if you’re gay, you don’t play sports. We throw a curveball into that stereotype.”

The L.A. softball association is part of a national alliance of gay softball teams that was founded in 1977 with teams in San Francisco and New York.

Gay tournaments are held throughout the country. There’s even an annual Gay World Series, in which the nation’s top teams battle for bragging rights. Last year, the Los Angeles Stray Cats won their fifth straight title in the national league’s top division.

“It’s important for members of the gay community to get involved in sports for a sense of self-worth,” said Mark Springer, the L.A. league’s coordinator.

For veterans of the league, like Mario Valdez of East Los Angeles, softball games sometimes evoke painful memories of teammates who lost their battles against AIDS.

“These guys are like brothers to me, so it hurts here to remember them,” said Valdez, 39. “But you realize life goes on.”

Fans sitting in the stands root with loud--and sometimes crude--cheers. The atmosphere usually is friendly, as families picnic and children chase each other just yards from where the gay teams play ball. Curious passersby stroll past the action, glance at the game and keep walking.

Across the park, the Los Angeles Bandits remain winless nine weeks into the season. Despite their 0-9 record, the players take the field with smiles.

For Charles Quintana, a Bandit, catching his first fly ball means more than clinching the team’s first win.

“It would be nice to win a game, but playing out here is more about having fun,” said Quintana, 37, of Los Angeles.

Softball player Steven Guzman isn’t gay, but he’s often referred to as the “honorary homosexual” on the Mayan Warriors team.

Guzman, 23, says he joined the gay team simply to meet others who enjoy sports, and he drives a couple of hours from his home near Palm Springs to play ball in the San Fernando Valley.

“Gay or straight, it doesn’t matter to me, as long as people have a love for the game,” he said. “These are some of the toughest guys I’ve ever played ball with.”

Some of the gay players, like Martin Alatorre of Hollywood, used to play for straight leagues but said they prefer the relaxed atmosphere of a gay league.

“When heterosexual men think of baseball, they get very macho. But in a gay league you simply play to your ability and nobody ridicules you,” said Alatorre, 21.

When Martin Madrigal told his family that he joined the Mayan Warriors last year, one older brother suggested that he play with dolls instead.

“Unfortunately, because we’re gay, people don’t expect us to play sports,” said Madrigal, 32, of West Covina. “I’m glad I proved that myth wrong . . . because playing softball has played such a large role in finding out who I am.”