Speaking of baseball

By Jesús Arboleya Cervera

HAVANA – The just-ended Third World Classic of Baseball has fueled debate among Cubans regarding the health of the game and that changes needed to improve it.

No other subject seems to be more important to the fans’ opinion and, though it may seem extravagant, the importance of their concern should not be underestimated. When you speak about baseball in Cuba, you are talking – to a great degree – about Cuban society.

Baseball arrived in Cuba in the mid-19th Century. It was introduced by U.S. immigrants or Cuban émigrés who returned from the United States and it became part of the package that equated "modernity and progress" with U.S. values.

In that sense, it was a reflection of the growing influence of U.S. culture on the formation of Cuban nationality, but it also became an expression of the counterculture that resisted the norms imposed by Spanish colonialism.

It is said that baseball was the native alternative to bullfights and its practice eventually became associated with the ideal of independence to such a degree that the Spanish colonial authorities banned it.

During the American occupation in 1898 and the early years of the new republic, baseball became Cuba’s national sport. As in the past, the conflicts of that era were reflected in its practice.

Baseball was the sport of the segregated U.S. colonies, of the private clubs and schools of the Cuban bourgeoisie, but also the sport of the urban workers, the farmers and the public school students. It even was assumed as an existential escape and social ladder for the poorest and most alienated sectors.

Cuban baseball entered the U.S. market through its prestigious professional leagues and contributed athletes of great renown to the U.S. spectacle, especially when black players from everywhere were able to play in the major U.S. teams.

As a boy, I was delighted when my father took me along to watch the games of the Cuban Winter League in the then-elegant Estadio del Cerro, five blocks from my home, where Cuban and American players mingled.

But I also enjoyed fleeing to the Canal banks, also five blocks away but in the opposite direction, where there was no stadium but empty lots and the quality of the players depended on "guessing" where the ball (wrapped in masking tape) would bounce when it touched the ground.

Great ballplayers emerged everywhere in Cuba but it was practically only in Havana where they could become great national and international figures, because no professional leagues existed outside the capital. That also reflected the enormous differences that existed between the city and the countryside.

Because of that potential, the quality of Cuban baseball barely suffered when the revolutionary government withdrew the franchise given to the Cuban Sugar Kings – a Cuban team with an English name and players from both countries – and established the national league, formed exclusively by Cuban amateur players who represented their respective territories.

Baseball became part of a system that made Cuba a world-renowned sports power. The Canal became the first sports complex created by the Revolution, and modern stadiums were built in all the provinces, as well as schools for the formation of players. The national team became practically unbeatable in non-professional leagues, including world championships and Olympic Games.

It was an autochthonous and self-sufficient effort, inasmuch as baseball was not played in the former socialist countries of Europe, as other sports were.

The debacle in the socialist camp ended up imposing commercialism on the international sport, and although the Cuban players demonstrated they were good enough to compete with professionals at all levels, Cuban baseball did so at a disadvantage.

On one hand, the government of the United States has made it difficult for Cuba to claim the earnings from those events (the second-place prize obtained at the First World Classic had to be donated to the victims of Hurricane Katrina and by now nobody knows where that money ended up) and on the other hand, the U.S. persists on brazenly poaching the talent of Cuban players.

As happens in other fields, "talent theft" has a political component that’s specifically designed to harm the quality of Cuban baseball, because most of those ballplayers are not eventually hired by the major U.S. teams.

In the past, although juicy offers abounded and playing in the American Major Leagues was an incentive in itself, few Cuban players chose to leave the island. But the problem worsened as a result of the economic crisis of the 1990s, which affected both the sports infrastructure and the players’ motivation. Many of them found themselves compelled to emigrate, as happened to other sectors of the population.

Therefore, in the same manner as many other components of national life under socialism, Cuban baseball faces a transformation of the world for which it was conceived, and has no choice but to deal with that reality.

In the light of the reforms in the Cuban economic model, there is no reason why baseball players shouldn’t be rewarded "in line with their contribution with society" and benefit from their success in the sport, sharing in the profits generated by their participation. Even so, it appears that the emigration of athletes will be inevitable; the immigration reform itself will facilitate that development.

Seen in the past as a repudiable act, the emigration of athletes is no longer seen that way by society and officialdom, as happens with other emigrants. Nor does it have to be harmful for Cuba, if it contributes to the development of the game and generates legitimate earnings for the Cuban side.

If a policy is organized on the basis of legal standards that protect the investment made in the formation of those athletes, those who wish to (and can) compete in other countries wouldn’t have to break away from their Motherland and could normally join the national teams whenever they are called upon to do so.

These measures could be adopted regardless of U.S. policy, but the impact of that policy cannot be ignored. So far, no Cuban player in U.S. baseball can send his earnings to Cuba – same as retirees and all other persons – and it remains to be seen if he would be authorized to play in a Cuban national team.

Because no legal relations exist between the two countries, there is no possibility of drafting contracts where the Cuban part is represented, which leaves the athletes no choice but to sever their relations with the island’s institutions, reneging on their commitments.

As happens with other aspects of the blockade, this places U.S. sports entrepreneurs at a disadvantage vis-à-vis their counterparts in other countries, so baseball is also a variable to be considered in an eventual improvement of relations between the U.S. and Cuba. It might even be used to start that improvement, as various groups and individuals in the U.S. have suggested.

It is easy, then, to conclude that when people in Cuba talk about baseball they mean not only balls and strikes but also the dilemmas besetting Cuban society. Luckily, we consider ourselves better players than anyone else and are expert in the tactics and strategies that rule the game, something that extends to its context.

If you doubt that, ask Victor Mesa, the explosive manager of the national team, who is still paying for barely earning fifth place in the world’s most demanding sport.

Progreso Semanal/ Weekly authorizes the total or partial reproduction of the articles by our journalists, so long as source and author are identified.