Genito & the Game:
A Dominican Legacy Beyond the Diamond
Editor’s Note: Eugenio Rodriguez, founder and manager of the Stars of Herrera from the Dominican Republic, passed away in March. He has been bringing his team to the RHWS since 2008. His Son, JoeI wanted to share an essay about his father. “I want you to know that I cried today while writing it,” he said. “It brought back so many memories of what I lived through with my dad during the Roy Hobbs tournaments. Thank you, deeply, for giving him so much joy, just by letting him feel appreciated by you all. I truly don’t have the words to express how much that meant.”
“You might not fully understand what I’m trying to say, but baseball was my father’s life. Being able to travel to foreign lands to represent his country was not just an achievement — it was his lifelong dream.”
By Joel Eugenio Rodríguez
Special to Roy Hobbs
I was 9 years old the first time my father, Eugenio “Genito” Rodríguez Villafaña, invited me to join him on the baseball field. He had already made a name for himself managing the Quisqueya amateur team in Venezuela throughout the 1980s and ’90s. That day, watching him step onto the mound with quiet focus and relentless drive, I realized baseball wasn’t just a sport for him — it was his language, his calling, his compass.
In Caracas, Quisqueya wasn’t just a team. It was a Dominican stronghold in foreign soil, a blend of pride and belonging. My father coached doubleheaders under the blazing sun, rallying Dominican and Venezuelan players alike with discipline, humor, and heart. He taught through presence, and his leadership style became his legacy — one built on consistency, integrity and camaraderie.
When he returned to the Dominican Republic in the early 2000s, he didn’t come back to retire — he came to build. “If we did it in Caracas, we can do it better in Herrera,” he declared. That’s how Estrellas de Herrera was born — a team built from the ground up by workers, teachers, former prospects, and believers. No fancy gear, no big budget. Just raw will and a vision.
In 2008, he took us to our first Roy Hobbs World Series in Fort Myers, Florida — the self-proclaimed “World Series for those who refuse to hang up their cleats.” My father, calm in everyday life, became a fiery presence on the field — barking orders, arguing close calls, and ending every game with firm handshakes and a smile.
One story shows who he was. During a tournament, every hotel in town was fully booked. Our friend Osiris offered us a house he was remodeling — no beds, no furniture, just freshly painted walls. My father simply said, “We all fit here.” We found air mattresses, improvised a kitchen, and turned chaos into camaraderie. That kind of spirit defined him — teaching that baseball was always more than just a game.
As the years passed, his sons stepped up. Jean Carlos and Eugenio Jr. took over logistics and finance. I, Joel, brought my experience as a film producer into the mix. In 2022, backed by Larimar City and Resort, I launched the Estrellas de Herrera YouTube channel — not just to document games, but to preserve and share a legacy. The first broadcast aired in 2023 during the Dominican Republic’s “Viejas Glorias” tournament, where retired legends reunited to relive their passion. That was our way of saying: “We’re still here — and our story deserves to be seen.”
Since then, we’ve livestreamed national tournaments and our appearances at Roy Hobbs, making our community’s effort visible around the world. My father, who once led us from the dugout, now inspires from every frame and every cheer that echoes through the screen.
Among the faces that lit up his own, none shone brighter than those of Tom Giffen and his wife, Ellen. Tom held Dad to strict schedules and professional standards. Dad accepted each scolding like a mischievous child; he saw in Tom a father figure despite their small age gap. Ellen’s kindness reserved him seats at opening ceremonies and ensured our flag always flew high. That mutual affection proved baseball is a bridge between souls.
In March 2025, my father threw his final curveball — this time, against time itself. His passing left a deep silence, but also a mission: to protect the legacy he built with care and conviction. Every time we take the field, we’re not just playing. We’re honoring the lessons he lived: joy, effort, and respect.
He wasn’t only a coach. He was a builder — of teams, of character, of community. And as long as there’s a glove on the field or a fan in the stands, Genito will still be there — calling plays from the sky.