Ray Sanchez | Direct from Havana
April 6, 2008
HAVANA
For the rest of this month, many Cubans will pay less attention to the
ubiquitous speculation about Fidel Castro's health or the government
restrictions that seem to wither away almost daily under his brother Raul.
The baseball postseason has arrived.
"The playoffs are the best thing happening in Cuba right now," insisted
Victor Acosta, 47, who took time off from his job as a bricklayer to
bring his 11-year-old son to the Estadio Latinoamericano to watch a game.
"This is a Cuban celebration," Victor Jr. said. "On every corner people
are talking about baseball."
On this baseball-mad island, the sport is a metaphor for life — a long,
drawn-out affair full of unexpected twists, thrills and heartbreak. As
America's national pastime opened its season, Cubans sought escape in
the final weeks of their baseball season.
But the way Cuba views even its favorite sport appears to be changing,
in what some observers see as a time of greater tolerance and debate on
the island. On a Saturday night in January, state television
unexpectedly broadcast a controversial documentary about Cuban baseball
made five years ago by a young filmmaker.
Ian Padron's film touched on a number of taboo subjects, including the
tough conditions the island's top athletes face and the success of Cuban
icons who defected to the United States to play in the big leagues.
Although the 68-minute film was made with money from the state's Cuban
Film Institute, government censors considered it too controversial for
release. The film, Out of this League, never played in state-run
theaters or on television before January. Instead, it became one of the
hottest pieces of contraband on the island.
"I can bet you that nearly everyone in this stadium saw that film before
it appeared on television," Oscar Suarez, 20, a university student, said
during a recent game at Latinoamericano, Havana's ballpark, the biggest
in the country. "When it comes to baseball, we stay up to date."
In the film, Cubans saw one of the country's finest pitchers and a
fallen hero of the revolution, Orlando "El Duque" Hernandez, for the
first time since he defected to the United States a decade ago.
"I'm not a traitor. I'm an Industrial," said Hernandez, referring to
Havana's team, the Industriales. "I've had the opportunity to play for
the two best teams in the world: the Industriales and the Yankees."
A former Yankee, Hernandez now earns $5 million a year pitching for the
Mets. When he defected in 1997, Hernandez had a career 129-47 record in
Cuba but was under suspension for alleged contact with a sports agent
from Miami.
"It hurt to leave my country behind — my whole life, my family, my
friends," Hernandez said in the film.
Other defectors also appear in the documentary, including Kendry
Morales, now a Los Angeles Angel, and Rene Arocha, who pitched with the
St. Luis Cardinals and now runs a baseball school in Miami.
"They were defeated by dollars," a Cuban baseball fan says in the film
of the players who left for the United States. "They sold out."
Raul Arce Galindo, a baseball writer for the Communist youth newspaper,
Juventud Rebelde, said the broadcast of the documentary signaled a trend
of greater tolerance and debate on the island.
"There are mixed feelings whenever a Cuban athlete leaves the country,"
Arce said. "I don't want to use the word 'deserter.' But many people
feel hurt. They figure the Industriales would be a stronger team with
many of the players who have left. At the same time, people feel pride
when these players succeed. It's a love-hate thing."
Even the state press, Arce said, has begun to tackle some harsh,
once-unmentionable realities, including massive unemployment, food
production problems and rampant corruption. With that kind of change in
the air, he suggested, the Cuban papers might someday publish American
box scores and standings.
In the documentary, defectors spoke nostalgically about possible
reunions with former teammates and Cuban exhibition games followed by
beers at the Hotel Nacional. Maybe, some fans hope, that could happen, too.
Last week, seated with his son in the left field stands, Acosta said he
still pictured El Duque Hernandez and his trademark delivery on the
mound at Latinoamericano.
"To me, El Duque was the best pitcher to come out of Cuba," the
bricklayer said. "His career was taken away from him and he said,
'Enough.' He went after his dream."
For the Acostas and other Industriales fans, the postseason escape was
brief. Pinar del Rio swept their team in the first round of the playoffs.
Ray Sánchez can be reached at rlsanchez@sun-sentinel .com.
http://www.sun-sentinel.com/news/local/cuba/sfl-flrndcubanotebook0406sbapr06,0,5792818.column
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