It’s a diamond in the rough, all right. Very, very rough.
The young men who became legends as kids thanks partly to this rock-and-weed covered, shade-less wasteland of a field agree. Some even say Mahiko Park was in worse shape a decade ago when as pre-teens they toiled on it, often four hours at a time.
"Welcome to our home field," says recent college graduate Alaka’i Aglipay, with a wry smile. "A place like this makes you tougher."
"Playing on this field was pretty tragic," adds Sheyne "Bubbles" Baniaga, a 4-foot-10 second baseman by trade 10 years ago and now a mason and plastering apprentice and father of a 1-year-old. "Bad hops, yeah. And you dive for balls and you come up with all the pokeys."
Tragic, but well worth the ensuing magic.
On Aug. 28, 2005, Aglipay, Baniaga and 10 other 12 and 13-year-olds representing Ewa Beach and West Oahu played a game on a perfectly manicured field 4,804 miles to the northeast. They won, capturing the Little League World Series championship, and along with it the hearts of Hawaii.
They did it with power pitching and clutch hitting, including a walk-off home run by Michael Memea to cap yet another late, come-from-behind rally and take the crown away from defending champion Curacao.
I’m convinced — as the players and coaches seem to be — that with no Mahiko Park, there is no Williamsport, Pa.
"When you don’t have grass as your infield and you have weeds it’s a lot easier when you play at other fields," says Layton Aliviado, the manager who looks the same as he did in 2005. "It doesn’t seem like 10 years ago. Time goes by so fast."
In 2005 he led them to victory after victory until there was nothing else left to win. Now some of those kids to whom he taught baseball fundamentals and made run hills to strengthen their legs are his softball teammates.
Baseball was their world and the world was theirs a decade ago. Now they are a cross-section of Hawaii 22- and 23-year olds. After spreading out to and graduating from high schools where they had various levels of athletic success, some went to college (some playing baseball, some not) and some joined the work force.
Only one has steadily remained in the consciousness of most Hawaii sports fans throughout. Aliviado’s son, Kaeo, just completed his senior season at the University of Hawaii, where he started four years in center field while working on a diploma he will receive next year.
He says he doesn’t think he’d be on the verge of graduating from college if not for what happened in 2005.
"The Little League World Series showed me you can do anything if you put your mind to it," he says. "To the Hawaii kids out there, never give up because anything is possible."
He’s not giving up on pro baseball yet, although scouts not wanting to risk reputations on a 5-foot-5 inch player did without giving Aliviado a chance. He smiles when reminded of the injustice of it, with the knowledge that he’s beaten bigger odds — as a 12-year-old.
Aliviado starred at Saint Louis, where he became a friendly rival to Aglipay and Ty Tirpak, who were part of Punahou’s seven-year state championship dynasty.
Aglipay now is an assistant baseball and football coach at Punahou, and works for the city and county of Honolulu helping people with disabilities find employment. He also started a company that does highlight videos for high school athletes.
Every now and then, they’re recognized by strangers. But most haven’t signed an autograph in years. Tirpak got a bit of perspective when as a freshman at Punahou he ended up sitting next to an upperclassman named Michelle Wie in a computer lab.
"At my job (as a CPA), I go see clients, and a couple times people have asked, ‘Hey were you on that team?’," Tirpak says. "So we talk a little about it. It’s a good icebreaker."
They’re aware of their place in history. They don’t flaunt it, but they cherish it. They are not obsessed or haunted by it. Mostly, it’s made them lifelong brothers with a shared experience to which few others can relate.
They’re like most other people their age, at various stages of getting started in the world as young adults.
"We were normal people when we were 12, too," says centerfielder Harrison Kam, the lone team member on the mainland now, finishing up college in Colorado. "We just happened to be on TV."
And they just happened to make sports history.
