Davis Schneider’s Father Fired Back at a Right-Wing Fan Who Disrespected Vladimir Guerrero Jr. After Questioning the Player’s Canadian Heritage, Making Him of Dominican Descent. The Post-World Series Social Media Outburst Sparked Controversy
In the electrifying aftermath of the 2025 World Series, where the Toronto Blue Jays fell agonizingly short in a seven-game thriller against the Los Angeles Dodgers, the baseball world was still buzzing with pride and heartbreak. The Jays, under the steady hand of manager John Schneider, had clawed their way from a disappointing last-place finish the previous season to the brink of immortality. Vladimir Guerrero Jr., the charismatic first baseman born in Montreal but raised in the Dominican Republic, emerged as the emotional heartbeat of the team. His dual citizenship—Canadian by birth, Dominican by blood and upbringing—had long been a point of quiet pride for fans in the Great White North. But in the raw vulnerability of defeat, that identity became a flashpoint, igniting a fierce online skirmish that transcended the diamond.
The controversy erupted on November 6, just days after the Jays’ 4-3 loss in Game 7 at Dodger Stadium, where Guerrero’s towering home run in Game 4 had briefly swung momentum Toronto’s way. As players and their families processed the sting of falling one win short of the franchise’s first championship since 1993, social media became a refuge—and a battlefield. Steve Schneider, father of Blue Jays outfielder Davis Schneider, is no stranger to the platform. The 62-year-old real estate developer from Richmond Hill, Ontario, has chronicled his son’s meteoric rise with unfiltered enthusiasm since Davis’s call-up in 2023. Steve’s viral videos, from capturing Davis’s leadoff homer in Game 5—a historic first-pitch blast followed immediately by Guerrero’s back-to-back shot—to his exuberant sideline cheers, have endeared him to Jays Nation. But on this occasion, his passion turned protective, zeroing in on a post that struck at the core of his teammate’s heritage.
The offending tweet came from @PatriotBallFan, a self-proclaimed right-wing commentator with a modest following of 12,000, known for blending sports hot takes with conservative rants on immigration and national identity. In the wake of the Series, as Toronto fans lamented the near-miss, the user posted: “Vlad Guerrero Jr. cries about losing like a true Canadian snowflake, but let’s be real—he’s Dominican trash playing dress-up in the True North. Born here by accident, raised south of the border. Deport the pretender and send him back where he belongs. #MAGA #RealAmericansPlayRealBaseball.” The post, laced with xenophobic undertones, quickly garnered hundreds of likes and retweets from like-minded accounts, framing Guerrero’s emotional postgame interview—where he tearfully vowed to “give everything for this city”—as weakness rather than resolve. It wasn’t just an attack on Guerrero’s performance; it was a calculated jab at his birthplace, implying his Canadian ties were fraudulent, a convenient ploy for MLB stardom rather than genuine allegiance.
Guerrero, 26, has navigated such whispers before. Born on March 16, 1999, in Montreal’s Notre-Dame Hospital while his Hall of Fame father, Vladimir Guerrero Sr., suited up for the Expos, he holds dual citizenship. Yet his formative years unfolded in Don Gregorio, Dominican Republic, amid the dusty fields where his dad’s legacy loomed large. Signed by the Jays as an international free agent at 16, Guerrero has since become the face of Toronto baseball: a .298 hitter in the 2025 regular season, with 42 homers and 123 RBIs, culminating in a Series where he slashed .333 with three long balls. Off the field, he’s embraced Canada fiercely—learning English, marrying a Torontonian, and fathering a daughter who leaves him voicemails in a bilingual lilt. “Canada gave me everything,” Guerrero said in a Fox Sports interview during the playoffs. “Montreal is in my blood, Toronto is my home. I play for the flag on my chest.” But to critics like @PatriotBallFan, that hybrid identity smacked of opportunism, especially amid a politically charged U.S. election cycle where border rhetoric ran hot.
Steve Schneider, ever the family’s digital cheerleader, spotted the tweet while scrolling through #BlueJays hashtags. His response was swift and scorching, posted at 2:17 a.m. ET on November 6: “Hey @PatriotBallFan, you’re the real snowflake here, hiding behind a keyboard to trash a kid who reps two countries better than you’ll ever understand. Vlad’s more Canadian than your fake patriotism—born in Montreal, heart in Toronto, soul forged in DR fire. Call him Dominican ‘trash’? That’s on you, d-bag. Blocked and reported. #JaysNation #RespectTheGame.” Accompanied by a screenshot of Guerrero hoisting the ALCS trophy, Steve’s clapback exploded, amassing over 50,000 likes and 10,000 retweets within hours. Fans flooded the replies with maple leaf emojis and memes juxtaposing the troll’s profile pic—a bald eagle clutching a baseball—with Guerrero’s iconic bat flip from Game 4.
The outburst rippled far beyond Toronto. Canadian media outlets like Sportsnet and The Globe and Mail hailed Steve as a “folksy defender of multiculturalism,” drawing parallels to the Jays’ 1992 and 1993 squads, stacked with international stars like Joe Carter and Roberto Alomar. In the U.S., ESPN’s Stephen A. Smith devoted a segment to it on First Take, thundering, “This is why baseball’s soul is in jeopardy—trolls turning heroes into punching bags over passports!” Even Guerrero Sr., the stoic Dominican icon, weighed in via Instagram: a simple photo of his son in a Team Canada jersey from the 2023 World Baseball Classic, captioned “Mi sangre, mi orgullo. Vlad es de aquí y de allá. Punto.” (My blood, my pride. Vlad is from here and there. Period.)
Not everyone cheered. @PatriotBallFan’s defenders piled on, accusing Schneider of “woke overreach” and demanding Steve’s ejection from Dodger Stadium for his Game 5 outburst—ignoring that it was pure joy, not malice. Right-wing podcasts dissected the feud, with one host sneering, “Blue Jays fans cry colonialism while their ‘Canadian’ star vacations in the DR. Hypocrisy much?” The troll himself fired back before his account was suspended for hate speech violations: “Schneider’s dad is just another libtard enabling invaders. Vlad’s no Canuck—he’s a quota hire.” By midday November 7, X (formerly Twitter) had temporarily throttled related searches under its harassment policy, but screenshots preserved the drama.
For the Blue Jays, the incident underscored a deeper tension. Manager John Schneider—unrelated to Steve or Davis—had praised Guerrero’s clubhouse leadership, recounting how, before Game 6, Vlad rallied the team: “If you’re nervous tonight, look at me.” That poise carried them to the finale, but the loss amplified vulnerabilities. Davis Schneider, the 26-year-old utility wizard who batted .285 with 18 homers in the postseason, later told reporters his dad’s tweet “nailed it—Vlad’s family to us. You don’t mess with family.” Guerrero himself stayed above the fray initially, posting a serene photo of Rogers Centre at dawn: “Grateful for every inning. Canada, DR, Jays—mi todo. Onward.”
As the off-season looms, with Guerrero’s $500 million extension through 2032 anchoring the rebuild, this social media storm serves as a microcosm of baseball’s global tapestry. Steve Schneider’s unyielding stand not only defended a brother’s honor but reminded the sport’s fringes: heritage isn’t a zero-sum game. In a league where 28 percent of players hail from abroad, questioning a star’s roots isn’t critique—it’s erasure. The controversy, for all its ugliness, has galvanized Jays fans, who flooded Steve’s mentions with #SchneiderStrong. In Toronto’s multicultural mosaic, where Caribbean rhythms pulse through Yonge Street and poutine stands dot the suburbs, Guerrero embodies the best of borders blurred. Steve’s words, blunt as a line drive, cut through the noise: respect the player, honor the man, celebrate the mosaic. As winter settles over the Rogers Centre, one thing’s clear—this outburst won’t define the Jays’ story, but it sure as hell amplified it.
