As Toro looks on disapprovingly, Chango the monkey monkeys with the cheerleaders.

Except for the World Series, I never cared much for baseball besides the World Series. That is, until September 15, 2016, when I discovered béisbol in Tijuana. I was with writer Justin O’Connell, Tijuana pseudo-celebrity Tony Tee, DJ Chucuchu, and a guy people called “Peter el Dealer.” We had carne asada tacos outside the stadium, cooked by Tony on a tire hub modified to be a grill. Since then, I’ve gone to at least a dozen games every year.

I often go with Tony Tee, but I’ve also taken tourists from all over the world. Besides the stereotypical baseball shenanigans, I’ve seen the Joker fight Batman, a Star Wars show gala, male strippers, countless cheerleaders/models parading around, odd mascots like Fat Sonic or the aggressive monkey Chango, and much more. It’s a big party, and everyone wants to be on the Jumbotron. (Once, I showed up on the big screen and got compared to The Simpons’ Cletus the Slack-Jawed Yokel — though I feel I bear no resemblance.)

Last week, Tony sent me a message. “Toros this Sunday? We are meeting at Norte at 2 pm.” I obliged, and made plans to join the crew at the brewery. Tony had invited ten of his friends: mostly from San Diego, and none of whom had been to a Toros de Tijuana game before. They were standing on the streets of Tijuana outside the brewery, nonchalantly smoking marijuana vape pens as if they were still in San Diego. I’m a paranoid person by nature; I warned them all that vaping was not allowed in the stadium or its perimeters, and to keep it hidden.

From Norte Brewery, we took different Ubers to Chevron Stadium on the other side of Tijuana. As we neared the stadium, the guys got Tecate 0.0 for free (non-alcoholic beer). Disney princesses danced at a Carls Jr. stand. Next to them, people stood in line to throw a pitch to win a prize. We proceeded to eat pork tacos and cheek chicharrón by a stand that displayed a whole pig on the grill. Once inside, we found our seats, twelve rows behind home plate, just left of center. Each ticket cost 250 pesos (around $15 with the current exchange).

A spectacle with a side dish of baseball.

Despite being on a nine-game winning streak and having destroyed their opponent Leones de Yucatan 8-1 the previous night, the Toros found themselves losing 2-1 in the third inning. That’s when one of Tony’s friends pulled out a bar of weed-infused chocolate and passed it around. I took a small piece. Then another of Tony’s friends produced a Ziploc bag filled with gummies. As I grabbed three pieces, I asked if they were strong. “Bro, these are mushroom gummies,” came the reply. “I grew them myself; you will feel the difference. They hit faster than regular mushrooms. Each gummy is around 100 milligrams, so you should be good.” He said all this with a confident smile as he ate the rest of the gummies in the bag. I usually do psychedelics at home or while camping, not in a packed stadium while drinking beer, but YOLO.

Shortly after I ate the gummies, Tony Tee got on the Jumbotron. Tony got compared to what looked like Tony Soprano. This made no sense, but Tony was excited anyway, and started dancing. By the next inning, I felt the effects of a mild psychedelic ride, enhanced by the absurdity of the stadium scene. There was a mascot of The Mask, parading around with a giant bobblehead. In the fifth inning, the game got interrupted to honor Vicente “Huevo” Romo, a legendary Mexican pitcher and pitching coach. A ceremony with fireworks ensued — for what seemed too long. Torin, the team’s main bull mascot, came over to our seats to take selfies and dance. Then he went down to the stadium to pretend to paint La Torina — the team’s female bull mascot — naked as a French girl. By the sixth inning, the Toros were losing 7-2. But neither the crowd nor Tony’s friends cared; we continued to indulge in the spectacle with a side dish of baseball.

Tony Tee’s tire-rim grill from that fabled first visit to the stadium.

“That guy crosses the border to work for USPS!” shouted Tony when Marco “el Raton” Astorga showed up. Astorga is an entertainer and producer for Toros. He plays several characters in the stadium. His most popular is “La ChikisTrikis,” a poor attempt at drag with a purple wig, colorful leggings, a tank top, and tiny jean shorts. He gets near audience members, espeically men, and shakes his ass. If one attempts to dance with him or make a move, he angrily rejects them in a dramatic way, only to tease them again seconds later. “You would never see this in the Padres stadium! You would get sued.” commented Tony when Raton danced up close to us and pretended to slap a man.

During the bottom of the seventh, when the traditional “Chuchuwa” song and dance takes place. Torina started dancing next to us. Perhaps the team got inspired: they managed to bring the score to 7-4 by the bottom of the ninth. But that’s when Fernando “La Flecha” Rodney came to relieve for Leones de Yucatán. Previously a Major League pitcher for a handful of teams (including the Padres), Rodney helped Toros de Tijuana win the championship in 2021. But this time, he was back as the closer against us, and allowed just one run before ending the game.

Despite the loss, everyone in the stadium was in high spirits as a live banda played loudly outside the stadium. Clarinets, tuba, a couple of trumpets, and more wind instruments blasted as a multitude of drunk Toros fans danced to banda music. In my drunken and psychedelic trance, I tried dancing some quebradita as a cute Latina looked my way, but it was to no avail. After we finished our beers, a third of the party went back to their homes. The rest ended up in a bar where you could smoke marijuana without people bothering you. The guys rolled massive blunts as they ordered more caguamas (beer). After that, we went to eat some of the best late-night birria and suadero tacos in downtown at an unnamed taco stand in front of Sanborns on 8th Street and Avenida Revolución.