Fraud, abuse and broken promises: Why MLB could be headed for an international draft

SAN LUIS, DOMINICAN REPUBLIC -- Two pillar candles sit on the front porch of a modest home, adorning a framed photograph of a teenager named Ismael Ureña Pérez. Beside it are two of Ismael's wooden bats and a used pair of his red cleats, the only article of clothing his mother kept. She emptied his drawers and threw out the rest.

"It was just too hard to look at every day," Iris Pérez said through tears.

One night two summers ago, Ismael returned home from a local baseball academy and vowed never to go back. The next morning, his family says, Ismael's urine was red and his skin was jaundiced. He was rushed to a local hospital, where he was placed in intensive care for three days before being transferred to a medically induced coma. Within 48 hours, on July 25, 2024, Ismael died.

His family believes his organs failed after he was repeatedly injected with performance-enhancing drugs at the academy. For months, his death swept the Dominican Republic, dominating headlines and sparking outrage across a nation that has long grappled with the exploitation of its baseball-playing minors.

Latin America's pipeline of young, promising baseball players has long drawn the attention of major league teams and their money, creating a system of stars but also of widespread corruption. Many now believe the system has become unsustainable. Change, in some form, is necessary. Preliminary talks about Major League Baseball's next collective bargaining agreement are expected to take place this month, and one of the biggest debates -- aside from the merits of a salary cap -- will center on reforming an international market riddled by age fraud, steroid use and illegal handshake agreements made with players at increasingly younger ages.

MLB officials believe the only solution is an international draft, which, the thinking goes, would stop the free-for-all in which people affiliated with teams approach handlers and street agents and offer them money to steer players to their clubs. Prominent members of the MLB Players Association counter that the best recourse is stricter enforcement of those illegal agreements, and that the issues have escalated largely because the league has failed to consistently punish wrongdoers.

"Everything is messy," a team executive who has spent years scouting in the Dominican Republic said. "It's messy because we're making it messy, because we won't f---ing regulate it, and it just keeps going and going."

OF THE 948 players on Opening Day rosters this season, 153 hailed from the Dominican Republic and Venezuela, two countries that consistently produce the most foreign-born talent in the major leagues. Almost all of them arrived there through the international system, most notably Juan Soto, Ronald Acuña Jr., Vladimir Guerrero Jr. and Fernando Tatis Jr. -- four stars who have collected 17 All-Star appearances and are now on contracts worth a combined $1.7 billion. Between 2018 and 2019, Soto, Acuña, Guerrero and Tatis emerged in the major leagues after being plucked out of the Dominican Republic and Venezuela as teenagers, originally agreeing to deals ranging from $100,000 to $3.9 million.

Their success made the race to identify the next crop of Latino stars fiercer, at a time when international-bonus-pool limits allowed teams to project how much money would be available to them several years in advance. The early deals that trigger a litany of other problems escalated because of it.

International prospects can't officially sign until they turn 16, but major league teams have been striking illegal handshake deals with players -- known locally as pre-acuerdos, or pre-deals -- at increasingly younger ages, currently as early as 11 years old, multiple sources throughout the industry told ESPN.

Said one longtime scout: "How can you possibly project a 12-year-old?"

"The industry is moving too fast," said Jonathan Peralta, an attorney who represents amateur players in the Dominican Republic, "but it's moving too fast for everybody."

Foreign players are about three times less likely to reach the majors than those who come through the domestic draft, according to data maintained by a longtime international scouting director. But the sheer volume of players who can be signed at bargain rates, and the massive windfall when even one of them hits, has prompted teams to beef up their scouting staffs, erect sprawling academies and, according to sources, attempt to lock players in with verbal agreements long before they're eligible to obtain contracts.

"It's straight lunacy," said Junior Noboa, executive director of the Dominican Republic's baseball commissioner's office. "I spent almost 30 years signing players. Never did I think you'd start seeing 12-, 13-year-old kids signing."

Buscones -- a colloquial term for those who identify players, train them, then eventually act as intermediaries with major league teams -- have been operating in the Dominican Republic since the 1970s. Up until about 2012, the process of acquiring international amateurs -- those who don't hail from the United States, Canada or Puerto Rico, and thus are not subject to the domestic draft -- was widely described as a "free-for-all," with no restrictions on money and scant knowledge about how to either scout players or verify their identities.

Signing bonus pools were first introduced that year, providing teams with an allotment of cash -- starting with $2.9 million in 2012 and rising as high as $8.04 million in 2026 -- that could only be used on international talent. The pools brought -- in theory, at least -- structure. Hard caps, introduced in 2017, brought predictability, allowing teams to accurately project how much money they would be allowed to spend several years in advance.

Now, sources said, the corruption is often too deep-seated to track.

As laid out by an MLB front office executive with extensive experience in Latin America, it begins when a buscón finds a prospective player at around the age of 10, sometimes even younger, and essentially shops him to different academies. Tools need to be developed quickly, which is where steroids or falsified birth certificates -- or both -- can come in. The trainer from the academy needs money to cover the cost of developing the player, which brings loan sharks into the equation. Those loan sharks, sources confirmed to ESPN, take up to an additional 20% of an eventual signing bonus from the player's family, on top of the 30% to 50% that goes to the trainer.

Because of the widening gap in age -- not to mention talent -- between when pre-deals are struck and when players can officially sign, the team deals have become harder to make stick, sources with knowledge of the transactions said. Even when players develop as expected, teams often pull out because a medical concern popped up in a physical; or because their front office turned over, prompting a change of heart; or because their signing bonus pools wound up lower, either through signing a free agent tied to a qualifying offer or exceeding the luxury tax threshold.

Often, though, the reason is much simpler -- to exert leverage in an effort to trim signing bonuses.

"They're like cockfighting owners," one trainer said. "The only difference is cockfighting owners stay true to their word."

When teams pull out weeks or even days before signing day, a litany of issues follow: Trainers lose money and are often forced to close academies because of unpaid debts. Parents owe loan sharks money they can't pay back. Kids are recycled into the following year's signing class, by which point many are deemed too old.

Teams have been pulling out of agreements more frequently in recent years, numerous agents and trainers have said -- a practice that three years ago triggered a lawsuit against the Los Angeles Angels by two teenage prospects in the Dominican Republic. But team officials allege that trainers are gaming the system, too, shopping players to other clubs despite preexisting agreements in an attempt to get more money. A prominent example occurred in January 2025, when Roki Sasaki signed with the Los Angeles Dodgers and several Dominican and Venezuelan players jumped to other teams that suddenly had unused pool space previously earmarked for the Japanese pitcher, according to sources.

"The level of trust has almost evaporated," another high-ranking team executive said. "On both sides."

That mistrust has become a major part of what promises to be a bitter labor fight.

AMAURYS NINA'S ACADEMY sits behind a 20-foot steel gate in San Isidro, a suburb of Santo Domingo. An armed guard mans the front entrance at all times. Inside are three perfectly manicured fields and a newly constructed, two-story office building that oversees the complex, which houses as many as 55 players at a time. Nina has been developing prospects in the Dominican Republic for 13 years, Rafael Devers and Eloy Jiménez the most well known among them. He used to be adamantly against a draft. Now, he said, "I'm 50-50."

A draft, Nina acknowledged, would hurt his country economically, given how many earn a living off baseball players. But it would end the exploitative pre-deals.

"I've been thinking of ways we can improve the system, and the only way I understand that would bring order to this situation is a draft," Nina said. "Not that a draft suits us. But a draft might be what we need."

MLB has long been pushing for an international draft, selling it as the only way to truly eliminate pre-deals, but the MLBPA continues to stress that better solutions exist -- mainly, by punishing the teams that engage in wrongdoing under the current system.

MLB persuaded the union to engage in talks on an international draft for the first time during bargaining sessions in the spring and summer of 2022. The two sides had until July 25 of that year to agree on what amounted to a swap -- an international draft for the abolishment of the qualifying-offer system, which has often suppressed free agent salaries. But the deadline came and went without an agreement. Three years later, while addressing the media during spring training in February 2025, MLB commissioner Rob Manfred once again voiced his support for a draft, touting its "transparency."

"The inability to make secret deals because you don't know who's going to draft whom is really the best systemic approach to this problem of rules violations when they get to the signing market," Manfred said then.

Opponents of an international draft are quick to identify a litany of potential issues associated with one, ranging from dwindling opportunities -- MLB's last draft proposal was capped at 20 rounds, with those not selected restricted to $20,000 bonuses -- to varying conditions between baseball-playing countries and, in contrast to Manfred's point, the likelihood of kickbacks between scouts and trainers continuing to corrupt the process. Some -- not just union officials, but also prominent agents and trainers -- still believe the current system can be salvaged if policed better. The most cynical believe the league has let it rot by allowing teams to continually strike pre-deals, forcing a draft to become the only option.

"Let's be clear -- the disorder that we have in the international market isn't simply the responsibility of the trainers, like MLB wants everyone to believe," one prominent Dominican trainer said. "They have on their hands, with draft or no draft, a way to improve this system. The disloyalty in the game is in their hands, not ours, because they're the ones that implement the rules."

Former MLBPA executive director Tony Clark, who resigned from his post amid scandal two months ago, echoed a similar sentiment in March 2025.

"At the end of the day, you can't agree to a pre-acuerdo unless a team proposes one," Clark said then. "That means there's an opportunity to find out who is proposing them and make a determination based on that as to how the system needs to function moving forward. But there's not an interest in doing it, despite knowing that that's happening, and instead default back to a draft, a draft, a draft."

Almost all the agreements between teams and players announced at the beginning of each international signing period were made verbally years in advance, often leaving no paper trail. League officials have long said that a fundamental lack of evidence makes imposing penalties on teams for striking pre-deals virtually impossible. Manfred said the league spends "tens of millions of dollars" annually to chase wrongdoing -- mostly on drug-testing staff and age-and-identification verification, according to a spokesperson. But numerous scouts told ESPN the league should invest far more resources to investigate pre-deals, at the very least to thwart teams from continually pursuing them.

The last major penalty in the international market was handed out more than eight years ago, when former Atlanta Braves general manager John Coppolella was banned for life and forced to forfeit 13 international signees for circumventing signing limits.

"We catch people," Manfred said last February, "but we don't catch everybody."

Another potential problem is a significant lack of Latino representation in key positions of the players' union, which several players, agents and executives point to as evidence that the MLBPA either isn't knowledgeable enough on the subject or doesn't care enough to explore it closely. The MLBPA consists of one player representative for each of the 30 teams. But during the last round of negotiations, only one, Venezuelan-born infielder Miguel Rojas, was Latino. Another, Puerto Rican shortstop Francisco Lindor, who attended high school in Florida and came through the domestic draft, served on the executive subcommittee.

At the moment, Minnesota Twins pitcher Pablo Lopez stands as the only Latino player rep. A spokesperson for the union, which leaves the selection of reps to the players on each team, added that there are seven Latino reps on minor league teams, in addition to several former Latino players who work in player services. The MLBPA began representing minor league players three years ago, but that does not include those in the Dominican Summer League. And it certainly doesn't include the amateurs in the international market.

"Our union's diversity is a key part of our strength, and we represent players from nearly 18 countries around the world," MLBPA interim executive director Bruce Meyer said in a statement. "The Players Association regularly solicits and receives input from players across our entire membership, at all levels and backgrounds, and not limited to players on our executive board. Our positions at the bargaining table are a direct reflection of that feedback, including on international issues.

"While our elected positions are open to all players, we view representation as far more than just a title on an executive board. In that spirit, our player services staff and leadership are in constant communication with players on issues big and small, and in connection with any negotiations, we seek and receive input in numerous ways from Latino players on international market proposals and other issues."

IN THE WAKE of Ismael Pérez's death, Junior Noboa spearheaded a system by which his office would work to regulate academies, forcing facilities to meet certain requirements based on location, living conditions, education programs and drug testing. From November 2024 to January 2025, Noboa said, they had registered more than 400 academies, though he acknowledged it barely scratched the surface.

"Right here, on the concrete," Noboa said, pounding the table of his second-floor office inside Estadio Quisqueya in Santo Domingo. "Come in the morning, and you'll see how many kids are practicing in the parking lot. That right there is an academy. These days, more than 500 kids are signed out of the Dominican Republic [each year]. What does that tell you? A bunch of kids are released. And there's a large percentage of those kids who say they want to stay in baseball and they want to put together a baseball academy."

Steroids have historically been readily available over the counter in any Dominican pharmacy and training facility that possesses the means to access them, regardless of age and without even a doctor's note. Anti-doping programs have been nonexistent within its numerous baseball leagues.

Late last summer, Dominican President Luis Abinader enacted the first law that would explicitly prohibit the use of PEDs in the country. It provided a set of penalties -- ranging from five to 20 years of imprisonment and between 10 and 30 times the local minimum wage in fines, in addition to the threat of closing businesses and revoking licenses -- for anyone known to have prescribed, administered or in any way facilitated the use of prohibited controlled substances, including steroids.

The law is scheduled to go into place in August, but whether it ultimately makes a difference -- a source of considerable doubt given the lack of an established anti-doping program in the country and the amount of resources required to conduct drug testing at that scale -- remains to be seen.

Under MLB's current CBA, players are subject to unlimited, randomized drug tests after they sign their first pro contracts. But only a limited number must comply with tests before then. Those who are designated "Level 2" under the CBA, a term used to describe the top 150 international amateur players based on an internal ranking, are subject to random drug tests before signing with a team, according to the current CBA.

There is also mandatory testing through an eight-year-old program in which independent trainers from other countries, including the Dominican Republic, allow MLB to conduct regular, unannounced drug testing of players in their academies. MLB says it conducts between 500 and 1,000 unannounced random tests under the program every year, at times more, while also educating players and their families about the dangers of PEDs.

League officials tout the positivity rates in the Dominican Summer League, stating it dropped from 6.1% to 2.9% from 2005 to 2006, when MLB began to test and educate players, and has been below 1% each of the past 13 years. But those same officials acknowledge that it doesn't necessarily speak to amateurs taking steroids before they sign.

One international scouting director believes around 80% of those who sign out of the Dominican Republic are given steroids when they're between the ages of 11 and 13 to attain pre-deals, then start to wean off leading up to when they can officially sign contracts and enter MLB's testing program. An agent who represents a lot of players from the Dominican Republic believed that number to be too high, instead guessing it might be around 30%. But, he added: "I know it's significant."

In a statement to ESPN, MLB said it has "dedicated significant resources to pre-employment drug testing and education to players in the Dominican Republic and through Latin America." But league officials also believe little can be done until local law enforcement agencies truly find a way to crack down on the availability of PEDs in their country. Some of those same Dominican government officials counter that MLB needs to crack down on teams striking the pre-deals that help trigger the use of steroids in the first place. And while MLB counters that an international draft is the only remedy, the MLBPA fervently disputes it.

To many, it has become a vicious cycle.

"It's like they just talk through each other," one international scouting director said. "And like always, these kids get left behind."

ISMAEL PERÉZ WAS a shy kid who hated having his picture taken but loved playing shortstop. He admired Lindor and often mimicked Elly De La Cruz, who grew up just 40 miles away from Ismael in Sabana Grande de Boyá. He dreamed, like so many others, of building a better life for his family.

"Ismael was a very smart kid, very motivated," Ismael's father, Inoel, said. "He was obsessed with baseball. His whole thing was to get us out of here. At 5, 6 a.m. he was out here already, training. He was obsessed with baseball. And he always told me his dream was to get to the major leagues. He would say, 'Papi, I'm gonna get you out of here.'"

Inoel can no longer sleep past 2 a.m. The last time he heard his son's voice, Ismael was on a hospital bed wailing desperately, "Abrázame, Papi! Abrázame!" (Hug me, Daddy! Hug me!) The memory of those cries still keeps Inoel up at night.

"All I want is justice for my boy," he said.

Ismael was just 14 when he died, according to the family, though even that is unclear. The birthdate on his gravesite has been painted over, suggesting that he, like so many of the other Dominican prospects who aspire to reach the major leagues, might have shaved a year or two off his age in hopes of appealing to scouts. (One of Ismael's brothers, Joel, denied that Ismael's birthdate was falsified, instead saying that the cemetery wrote the incorrect year and the family was told to erase it because "people kept asking questions about it.")

Ismael's family and their legal representatives allege Ismael was given performance-enhancing substances at the academy of a former professional pitcher named Yordy Cabrera, who has denied any responsibility. Cabrera, who referred ESPN to his lawyer when reached for comment, denied injecting Ismael with the steroid boldenone in an Instagram post on Nov. 19, 2024, saying that he had "absolutely nothing to do" with his death.

Ismael attended Cabrera's academy alongside his two brothers, who say they were also given injections daily but were told they merely contained "vitaminas," a description they believed at the time. Joel, 22, quit baseball shortly after Ismael's death. He initially trained his 19-year-old brother, Esmeilin, but he has since quit, too, honoring the wishes of a mother who pleaded with them to give up the sport in the wake of Ismael's death. In Iris' mind, the economy around baseball took the life of one of her sons. She didn't want it to take another.

"He was willing to do anything," Iris said, clutching another framed photograph of Ismael. "That's what drove him to his death."

In November 2024, Diario Libre, one of the largest newspapers in the Dominican Republic, obtained a copy of private laboratory tests performed on Ismael hours before his death that showed liver failure, among the more common side effects of long-term steroid abuse, according to medical experts surveyed by ESPN. But the results of an autopsy performed by the National Institute of Forensic Sciences has yet to be made public. A spokesperson for the district attorney's office, which oversees that department, did not respond to repeated requests for comment.

The lab results revealed by Diario Libre 17 months ago, which were also reviewed by ESPN, showed significantly elevated blood ammonia and liver enzyme levels consistent with liver failure. One of the liver's main functions is to metabolize drugs, such as anabolic steroids, and eliminate them from the body. MLB medical director Dr. Gary Green, speaking broadly on the subject, said steroids that are consumed orally have a greater effect on the liver, but high amounts of injections can also greatly impact it.

Cabrera's lawyer, Domingo Fabian, countered that Ismael died of hepatitis B, a viral liver infection. Fabian told ESPN his client is "completely innocent," saying the family is attempting to blackmail Cabrera and "disparage his name" while adding that they only filed a lawsuit after Cabrera declined to pay them. Fabian alleged Ismael was at Cabrera's academy for only three days; Ismael's family says he had been attending since he was 8.

Ismael's parents initially took his case to the local prosecutor's office themselves but "were not paid attention to," said Russell Aracena, one of the family's lawyers. Aracena and his legal team filed a formal complaint later that summer, but the case wasn't taken on until around the middle of November, when Diario Libre wrote about Ismael's death. His story gripped the nation, ultimately helping to trigger Noboa's academy checks and, according to sources in the country, providing local officials with a final push to finally attempt to regulate steroids.

Héctor Gómez, one of the most prominent baseball reporters in the Dominican Republic, described Ismael's case as "the drop that overflowed the cup."

"This case exploded," Gómez said. "There's been recognition of similar cases, but they didn't have this type of exposure. This one had the exposure, and the parents were also willing to talk."

Near Christmas 2024, the family's legal team filed a complaint against Olga Diná Llaverias, national director for the department of boys, girls, adolescents and family for the attorney general's office, for acting negligently in response to the initial complaint. The next six months consisted of little movement, prompting a march to be held at the state capitol the week of June 16. Hundreds of people gathered then to demand that the results of the autopsy be revealed, but nothing has happened.

Aracena said Ismael's mother still calls him in tears almost daily, hoping to hear something.

Her wait continues.

"We're not after money," Joel said. "All we want is justice, and on top of that, for this not to happen to any other kid -- so no family suffers like we have."

ESPN's Jorge Castillo and Juan Recio contributed to this report.