Dominican Republic All-Stars Top Puerto Rico 6–2 at Citi Field — but It Felt Like a Mets Game Wrapped in a Caribbean Street Festival

By the time the conga lines hit the third-base line, the flags were waving like a United Nations parade on double espresso, and the temperature dipped to a wind-chill-enhanced 47 degrees, Citi Field felt less like early-winter Queens and more like a giant Caribbean block party sponsored by LIDOM, the LBPRC, and maybe a little by the New York Mets themselves.

And yes — this was absolutely a Dominican Republic vs. Puerto Rico showdown.

But make no mistake: it also had a tremendous New York Mets feel to it.

A Mets reunion disguised as an international exhibition disguised as a music video.

The Dominican Republic All-Stars beat the Puerto Rico squad 6–2 on Saturday afternoon, but the final score was basically a footnote to three hours of baseball, nostalgia, tears, salsa rhythms, WBC-level crowd energy, and enough national pride to power both islands through hurricane season.

The four players made available pregame formed one of the most Mets-centric media scrums in franchise history:

Carlos Gómez

Gómez isn’t just a former Met — he’s a two-chapter Met. First as the young spark plug who debuted in Queens, then years later as the veteran who swung by in 2019 to put a bow on a memorable career. On Saturday, he traded his outfielder’s glove for a lineup card as manager of the Dominican squad, and even now he carries himself like a guy who could leg out a triple before you finish reading this sentence.

When I asked him what it meant to return to New York — to the very stadium where the whole crazy ride began — Gómez didn’t hide the emotion:

He told me it was “very emotional,” that being back brought a rush of good memories from his early days as a Met, even though he played fewer than 100 games with the club.

It was the kind of honest, nostalgic answer that reminded everyone in the ballpark why players like Gómez stay beloved long after the jersey comes off.

Robinson Canó

Yes, the former Yankee. Yes, the former Met. Yes, the man whose swing remains smoother than a Sinatra B-side.

And in case anyone missed the symbolism, his shirt said it all: “The Final Act.”

Saturday marked his final game in North America, though in typical Canó fashion, he clarified it beautifully before the game:

His presence was part of a tribute — not a formal retirement from professional baseball.

And then came the emotional haymaker:

In the 7th inning, former Mets second baseman Luis Castillo emerged from the dugout to remove Canó from the game. The two embraced.

Canó cried.

The crowd roared.

And somewhere in heaven, Ralph Kiner said, “Now that’s a moment.”

Carlos Delgado

The big man himself — former Met, feared slugger, and now the manager of the Puerto Rican All-Stars.

I asked Delgado a question that had been stuck in my baseball brain for years:

“When J.D. Martinez was here as a Met, people called him a hitting savant. You, in Toronto, kept that legendary graph-paper notebook after every at-bat — something John Gibbons, then your manager, praised you for, saying you were probably the most knowledgeable hitter he ever saw. If you’d had all the modern analytics back then, what kind of hitter do you think you’d have become?” Here was his response :

Carlos Beltrán

Coach for Puerto Rico.

Newest member of the Mets Hall of Fame.

Still carries the quiet authority of a man who once covered Queens from gap to gap.

I congratulated him on his induction — something long overdue — and asked his thoughts on what this game represented.

Beltrán smiled, took in the crowd, and said:

“I think this is a beautiful event. The fact that you’re uniting two islands in the Caribbean and you’re allowing them to put on a show in New York City where the Dominican community is big and the Puerto Rican community is also big. You get the opportunity to connect the islands in November in New York.” 🇩🇴⚾️🇵🇷

It was perfect.

It was poetic.

It was quintessential Beltrán.

Oh, and Edwin Díaz Was There Too — Just… Not Pitching

Mets closer Edwin Díaz, newly opted out of his contract and now drifting through free agency waters, watched from the stands. You could actually hear pockets of fans whispering scouting reports to each other like a middle-school gossip chain:

“Is he staying?”

“Is he leaving?”

“Blink twice if you’re coming back!”

He didn’t blink, but the fanbase did — repeatedly.

Baseball, Music, Goosebumps, and 47 Degrees

The atmosphere?

Electric.

Festive.

Downright tropical… except for the part where Queens reminded everyone it’s November.

The game-time temperature was 47 degrees, yet the crowd behaved like it was 87 and someone had just rolled out a truck filled with piña coladas. People waved flags the size of studio apartments. Every base hit came with a drumline. Entire sections coordinated chants like they were auditioning for WBC 2026.

If you dropped someone into the ballpark blindfolded and asked them what continent they were on, “Queens” would have been their fourth guess at best.

And because no Mets-themed gathering is complete without at least one moment that makes the Flushing faithful grin like they’re watching Bartolo Colon round second base again — well, speak of the devil:

Bartolo himself was in the Dominican dugout.

Yes, that Bartolo.

Except… dramatically smaller. Considerably slimmer. Practically aerodynamic.

The man formerly known as Big Sexy might now need to be rebranded as Little Sexy, and honestly, the transformation deserves its own 30-for-30. Mets fans soaked it up.

Also floating around? Former Mets GM Brodie Van Wagenen, shaking hands, smiling, probably trying not to trade anyone.

But not every Mets callback stirred warm feelings. The Dominican DH was Mel Rojas Jr., which instantly triggered a collective fanbase flashback to his father’s time in Queens — specifically that 5.76 ERA that still induces phantom arm pain across the tristate area.

For Mets fans, it was all there: the stars, the nostalgia, the cameos, and even the trauma. A perfect Queens stew.

The Game Itself

The Dominican Republic rode a combination of timely hitting, good situational baseball, and enough swagger to fill a maraca. Puerto Rico had its moments, but the DR bats proved too much.

But again — nobody left talking about the score.

They talked about Canó’s tears.

About Delgado’s presence.

About Beltrán’s pride.

About the unity, the music, the joy, and the energy you only get when baseball becomes more than a sport — when it becomes a homecoming.

Final Thoughts

On a chilly November day, Citi Field didn’t feel like an MLB stadium.

It felt like a Caribbean crossroads.

A Mets family reunion.

A celebration of baseball, culture, and emotion wrapped into one.

The Dominican Republic won 6–2.

But honestly?

So did New York.

So did the fans.

So did the sport.

And—because the baseball gods have a flair for the dramatic—the loudest ovation of the afternoon belonged to a man who wasn’t retiring… but was being honored all the same.

Robinson Canó will keep playing somewhere.

But his sendoff from North America?

That was magic.

Pure, Caribbean-colored Mets-flavored magic.