Not a few boys born in the first half of the 70s are named Enzo or David, an honor given by their parents to their favorite shortstop.
Likewise, and at least the stands of the University and some in the other stadiums, at times, were split in two by the teachers of the position, while in the sports pages of the whole country, there was no lack of journalists who stripped themselves of their supposed impartiality to form lines behind any of them.
Without guilt complexes, we among the latter.
"I never paid much attention to those comparisons," says David, who later played in another twenty-two seasons with the same Tigers.
"They aren't good. I think you have to give credit to whoever does their job. Enzo was in the same style as Aparicio and Vizquel, with hands as well as theirs, although he was stronger. Unfortunately, his injury did not let it last longer. We were and are great friends. Several times I ate at his house and he at mine. I even called him recently to find out how he was after having surgery on the hip that has bothered him his whole life.”
"David and I had fun with the comparisons," recalls Enzo, who also only wore the La Guaira uniform until the 78-79 tournament.
“It was a very beautiful time. People fought for us and we laughed. We didn't even talk about it. We always leave it to the journalists and the fans.”
Concepción took part in 39 of the 60 challenges of the Tigres in the 67-68 season, and in three of their first nine championships, she helped Aragua to win the first three titles in its history and to participate in five final series. Hernández was in action in 32 of the Sharks' sixty games, and with him, La Guaira won two crowns in his first five seasons and attended five finals.
A short time later, the two reached the major leagues. Concepción with the Reds in 1970 and Hernández with the Padres in 1971.
There their lives began to fork. Always with the Reds, David remained in combat until 1988. Chronic discomfort in his back did not let Enzo go beyond 1978, when he said goodbye to the big top with the Los Angeles Dodgers.
As I wrote, I became convinced that Ramón Navarro's suggestion that I dedicate myself to the stories of David Concepción and Enzo Hernández made sense.
That baseball is certainly nothing more than a game, although it has a touch that forces us to take it seriously. Either way, four decades ago, history was split in two. Before and after David and Enzo, or before and after Enzo and David.