Two Baseball Dreams. Two Very Different Roads.

In the United States, baseball and education grow together. A kid plays T-ball at age 5. He joins Little League at 8. He plays Pony League on weekends at 11. He plays high school baseball at 14 while maintaining his grades. If he's good enough, he plays college baseball at 22—and if he doesn't make it professionally, he has a diploma and a future.

In the Dominican Republic, the path is different.

Baseball is life. Dominican babies are born holding a baseball. They start playing street baseball as soon as they can walk—with broomsticks and bottle caps called vitilla. At 8, a buscón notices their talent and starts promising them an MLB future. At 11, they're training full-time. At 13, they drop out of school and typically move to a baseball academy. At 16, they're training 6 to 8 hours a day under a buscón's control—no education, little nutrition, no health care.

If he makes it, he signs a contract. If he doesn't—and 98% won't—he goes home at 16 to 20 with no diploma, no job skills, and no future.

The Hidden Cost of the System

The Dominican Republic produces nearly 10% of MLB players despite having only 11 million people. That's remarkable. That's a system that works on the surface.

But it also produces thousands of young men every year who are left behind.

The traditional system doesn't care about those kids. It cares about elite prospects. That is the bottom line.

The New Challenge: Social Media and False Promises

The traditional Dominican baseball system was already broken. But now it's getting worse.

Social media has amplified these false promises. Kids see videos of other Dominican players signing for millions. They see the signing bonuses. They see the high-profile success stories. What they don't see is the 98% who didn't make it.

• Aggressive Recruitment: Buscones use social media channels to scout and recruit younger players with heightened urgency.
• Amplified Highlight Reels: Flashy videos showcase signing moments while hiding long-term dropout rates.
• School Abandonment: Bigger promises convince more families to pull their kids out of school early.

The dream is more seductive than ever. And the system is more exploitative than ever.

Here's What We're Trying to Change

In Barahona, a small city in the Dominican Republic, we're taking a different approach.

ViasRD (formerly operating as Empower Baseball) operates on a simple principle: education and baseball development go together. Not one or the other. Both.

Here's how it works:

Kids come to us to play baseball for free. They sign a commitment to education—agreeing that school comes first, and that in order to play they have to stay enrolled until graduation. They train with coaches, play official games, and compete in organized leagues. We provide everything. But they also stay in school, maintain a 70% average, get tutoring, and receive structured mentorship.

It's the U.S. model. But in the Dominican Republic, it's radical—especially outside of Santo Domingo.

Why This Matters

The traditional Dominican baseball system is designed to produce baseball players. Period. It is a pipeline. ViasRD is designed to produce complete young men.

If a player makes it to professional baseball, great. But if he doesn't—and statistically, he won't—he'll have a diploma. He'll have job skills. He'll have options. He'll have a future and the chance to break generational poverty in his family.

The Proof

After just a few years, here is what ViasRD has accomplished in Barahona:

These numbers stand in stark contrast to the traditional system, where most kids drop out of school and never graduate.

A Case Study: Julio Zenón

Julio Zenón's story illustrates the profound difference between these two systems.

At age 12, Julio showed natural talent. A buscón noticed him and took him to Santo Domingo to train full-time. Julio stopped going to school. For years, he trained in the traditional system—exploited, undereducated, with almost no backup plan. The pressure was immense. The odds were impossible.

When his parents separated, his mom was desperate for a safer path. She brought Julio to ViasRD.

Today, Julio is on track to graduate high school this summer. He was selected for an elite all-star tournament representing Barahona—and has done so year after year. With an education and continued baseball development, Julio now has real options: U.S. college scholarships, Dominican universities, or professional leagues. Without ViasRD, he would have been another statistic—a kid who chased a dream and came home with nothing.

The Uphill Battle

We're not naive. We know what we're up against.

The traditional Dominican baseball system is deeply entrenched, profitable, and supported by powerful stakeholders with deep pockets. ViasRD is growing—with over 60 kids in Barahona—but we aren't going to replace the traditional system overnight.

But we are proving that a different approach is possible. Systemic change doesn't happen by accident—it requires a movement, resources, and leaders willing to bet on long-term solutions. We're building that movement in Barahona, proving it works, and showing that one kid at a time is how you disrupt a broken system.

The Long-Term Vision

ViasRD isn't trying to replace the traditional system—yet. It's trying to disrupt it so thoroughly that the system has to change.

By proving that an education-first model works, we're showing that there's a better path so fewer kids have to be "saved" in the first place. For now, in Barahona, over 60 kids are getting an education, playing baseball, and building real futures. That is our proof of concept.