Montoyo likes his baseball with a side of salsa
Blue Jays manager Charlie Montoyo could tell you how much he enjoys salsa, because it’s the soundtrack to his life and baseball career.
So he recounts his background as a self-taught percussionist, and namedrops the salsa heavyweights he’s met this season.
Megastar Marc Anthony visited Montoyo at spring training, and a jam session ensued. Old-school salsa legend Roberto Roena posed for photos with him after a recent show here.
But Montoyo would rather show you, so he cues up a YouTube clip from a band called Swing Callejero on the smart TV in his office, and when they start “Loba Tramposa” Montoyo joins in. He plays a few bars on the conga drums next to his desk, then hustles across the room to continue on the congas.
At the chorus Montoyo switches to a cowbell painted like Puerto Rican flag, still keeping rhythm with the band.
Montoyo isn’t the only Blue Jay who brings tropical music to work with him, and Toronto’s thriving salsa scene once made the city a favourite road-trip destination for Latino MLB players. But the first-year manager has helped rekindle the relationship between the team and the local salsa community, while merging two of his deepest passions.
“Salsa helps you relax,” Montoyo said before a recent home game. “You’ve got to have something besides baseball all the time. And I really do love salsa. My God.”
Montoyo has sat in with the band at Lula Lounge, a popular Latin music and dance spot on Dundas St. W., and hopes to return to it soon, but he’s not even the most accomplished salsero in Blue Jays history.
His childhood teammate, Ruben Sierra, played only 14 games with the Jays, but when he joined the club in 1997 he was already deep into his sidehustle as a singer and bandleader. Where baseball culture is often hardedged and macho, the all-star outfielder’s music was tearful, hopeful and vulnerable. Titles included “I Need a Love,” My Heart is Yours” and “If You Weren’t His.”
Jays reliever Wilmer Font was introduced to Sierra’s music during an early-career stint with the Texas Rangers, and it resonated with him.
Sierra’s tales of longing and lost loves recalled Font’s childhood in Venezuela, and the music his dad and grandfather played at home.
“(Sierra’s) songs are great — I’ve listened to almost all of them,” Font says. “I like salsa, and I like the type of salsa he sings. Romantica.”
As preteens, Montoyo and Sierra played together on an all-star team that travelled from Puerto Rico to Venezuela, but neither realized how deeply the other loved music, Montoyo says. As adults, Montoyo and Sierra haven’t collaborated as musicians but the Jays manager is confident he can keep pace with anyone.
“I don’t know how to read music, but if I know the song it’s easy for me to follow,” Montoyo says. “If I practised more, I could probably play in a band.”
Sierra’s brief Blue Jays career coincided with Toronto’s emergence of Babaluu, a Yorkville supper club and nightspot that quickly became a destination for Latino players on visiting MLB teams. Owner Nubia Solano says her brother, Fernando, would scan the crowd at the Yorkville club, pointing out major-league players.
Solano says the club, which operated briefly on Yorkville Ave. before moving to Cumberland St., brought Latin American music and food to a broad audience, but still felt authentic to the Latino baseball players who frequented it.
“I was able to offer the true experience without watering it down,” said Solano, who now runs a wellness retreat in Shelburne. “The roots were very intact. People would tell me, ‘I get in here and I forget I’m in Yorkville.’ It (was) like a time warp.”
Babaluu closed for good in 2015, and while no new local night club has emerged as the must-visit spot for Latino MLB players, current Jays bring Latin American music to work with them, often as walk-up music.
These days Vladimir Guerrero Jr. uses “Traigo Fuego” (“I Bring Fire”), a hard-driving merengue classic by La Banda Gorda.
Font takes the mound to “Mi Mayor Fanatica,” a Ruben Sierra song the pitcher picked to honour his wife, Rosy.
Teoscar Hernandez has used the same song since 2012 — “Zumba,” by Puerto Rican reggaeton star Don Omar. As the title indicates, the song first appeared on a compilation tailored to the Latin dance fitness classes. But Hernandez says it’s also a link to his family.
“The song is part of me, and my family loves it,” Hernandez says. “They tell me every time they hear it, it reminds them of me, even if I’m not there.”
Montoyo’s playing career predated walk-up music, but he has plenty of musical accompaniment at the ballpark. Instruments outnumber baseball mementos in his office, and above his desk hangs a portrait of veteran salsa vocalist Herman Olivera.
He anticipates road trips to New York the way other players used to look forward to road games in Toronto and visits to Babaluu, because his favourite music store is in the Bronx, three kilometres from Yankee Stadium. Montoyo says he buys so many CDs from store owner Mike Amadeo on each visit that he takes pictures to make sure he doesn’t buy the same discs on his next trip.
“I change clothes (post-game) and run the two miles to the store,” Montoyo says. “Spending the money is helping (Amadeo) and the people who make the music to keep making music. I’m doing my little part.”
“Salsa helps you relax. You’ve got to have something besides baseball all the time. And I really do love salsa.” CHARLIE MONTOYO BLUE JAYS MANAGER