by David Winch, Montreal Gazette
March 13, 2015
HAVANA – It is late February, sweltering hot, and the Cuban baseball season is in full swing.
We are racing in a shiny 1955 Dodge taxi to the stadium, where hometown team Industriales will face cross-island rivals Pinar del Rio this evening, in game 2 of a three-game series. From the front seat, taxi entrepreneur Bobby regales us with “deals” only he can get for friends like us. He turns his head distractedly to urge his passengers to “call me”.
Right after this tempting offer, we miss the turn to the stadium amid the tangle of Havana back streets. Bobby urges calm: No problem!!
We do a quick U-turn across the busy street and veer back toward the Estadio Latinoamericano. Three or four potholed blocks later, we screech to a halt, settle the 10-peso fare hastily negotiated with Bobby, and stand on the streetcorner looking up at the giant blue structure looming above us.
Havana’s big baseball stadium sits wedged in a dingy part of the central city, ringed by loud traffic and crowded among low-rise residences. Its ticket booth resembles one you might find at a remote Greyhound station. One elderly woman peers out from a small wicket while carefully tearing little tickets, stamped CubaDeportes SA. Tickets cost 3 pesos, or roughly 30 cents for locals. They have no seat numbers. The stadium’s entry tunnel is dark, and under the hot stands everything feels sticky. We climb a small set of stairs and emerge into the grandstand seats.
Crowd blasts airhorns
Suddenly a broad blue vista opens: 400 feet to straightaway centre field, 325 to the corners. Banners above the outfield bleachers trumpet “Cuba, Land of Champions” and “Sport, An Achievement of the Revolution”. Strikingly athletic players run after grounders on the rough infield, which is splotched with light-green and brown patches.
The crowd is alive, and the young Pinar fan contingent jack their airhorns relentlessly, vuvuzela-style. Congas provide a backbeat for the gyrating throng. As with a visiting-team “kop” at a European football match, these rabid fans are kept separate; Cuban police stand warily between their conga drums and the seemingly indifferent Havana Industriales fans.
The national anthem is mercifully short. The umpire signals it’s time to play ball.
Pinar comes out swinging, and soon home runs are flying everywhere into the left- and right-field stands. Several fly balls end up on the stadium roof, and the crowd stands to watch if they roll off onto the nearby streets. In the first and second innings, the Havana hitters try to reply, but fail. By the top of the third it looks like a laugher, with Pinar leading 5-0. As tardy fans continue to wander into the stadium, the 7 to 8,000 present are still drowned out by a frenzied minority of green-clad Pinareno fans.
The crowd is alive, and the young Pinar fan contingent jack their airhorns relentlessly, vuvuzela-style.
For the first-time fan, there is little player information available. No programmes or lineup cards are distributed, and the minimal, low-tech outfield scoreboard is no help. You have to strain to decipher the scratchy PA system, leaving you to guess the next batter is “Younis Somebody”. Finally, cribbing from the sports pages of Granma, the Communist Party daily, we figure out that Pinar pitcher Freddy Asiel Alvarez is on the mound. The wily right-hander holds Havana in check for two innings, until its talented lineup jumps to the fore.
In a memorable bottom of the third, Havana is suddenly able to hit again, belting line drives all over. The score tightens. Centre-fielder Yunieski Gurriel slams a single, while fleet LF Yunier Diaz stretches a single into a double. Then burly Lisbon Correa threatens to even the score in a hurry. With the score 5-2 and runners at the corners, a disputed catch against the outfield wall sends officials back to discuss the play behind the plate. Meanwhile, all hell breaks loose.
In the stands near the visitors’ dugout, a small black dog suddenly leaps over the railing onto the field. Picking up speed, it begins to run all over the field, starting with the right-field corner. Soon the grounds staff are in full pursuit. The dog slows down enticingly, but once they approach, it bolts, charging from the outfield to home plate, then around the bases again. By now, the entire crowd is standing, many cheering and laughing as the dog outraces the flat-footed humans. The players stand impassively, trying to ignore the pandemonium around them. Finally, the crowd breaks into a delirious roar as a young boy is brought onto the field near home plate to scoop the dog into his arms. The official scorer is silent, but the dog appears to have run at least a triple.
The entire crowd is standing, many cheering and laughing as the dog outraces the flat-footed humans
The game continues. Havana scores again, and again. As we head to the fourth, Pinar’s lead is just 5-4.
Delicious Spanish baseball terms
The scoreboard shows the batter’s count with the familiar S-B-O (strike/ball/out) initials, but the line score reads C-H-E, with “Carrera” for runs (initial R in MLB). A hit is still H, but often spelled “jit” in the Cuban press. Spanish baseball lexicon has many delicious terms, rendering home run by the sonorous “jonron” and labelling a single an “indiscutible”, or an indisputable hit.
In such a knowledgeable baseball environment, one familiar Latin icon reappears in the stands. A middle-aged gentleman, arms and legs crossed, sits quietly and observes the game intently. Sometimes he shakes his head slowly, expressing dismay at the misplays to which he is witness. I can’t help but think of Felipe Alou. Reminders of old-time Caribbean pro baseball are everywhere. Before the current Industriales of the national series existed, the Havana Sugar Kings played in the International League, including against the AAA Montreal Royals.
Today in 2015, with relations normalizing between Cuba and the U.S., could a renewed Havana presence in pro ball be on the horizon? Havana will certainly not join MLB, unless a heretofore undiscovered middle class can absorb the jump from 30 cents to 30 dollars a ticket.
Talent pipeline to MLB
In the baseball world, there is broad expectation that Cuba will soon be a replica of the Dominican Republic — a stupendous fount of All-Star talent. With the talent pipeline open, how many more Yasiel Puig-like stars are coming!?! That may well be. Another view is that 50 years of isolation from North American pro sports has an effect. These leagues’ new conditioning and nutrition regimes, not to mention sports psychology and advanced statistics, may make adjustment to MLB difficult for many. Cuba might end up more like Mexico, Venezuela or Puerto Rico, a reliable producer of Latin baseball talent but limited by its weaker baseball infrastructure.
Pinar holds on to win 7-4. The game report in the next day’s Granma scrupulously avoids any mention of Houndgate. Maybe this was the poor man’s Youppi or video scoreboard – a good laugh at the park on a hot evening. We left hoping that spirit doesn’t fade in a new, more Americanized era of Havana baseball.
First published in Montreal Gazette as: http://montrealgazette.com/news/local-news/is-cuban-baseball-on-the-brink-of-a-revolution
