Cuba, a Country with a Broken Heart

Cuba, a Country with a Broken Heart
By Leonardo Padura

In this column, Leonardo Padura - a Cuban writer, journalist and winner
of the 2012 National Literature Prize, whose novels have been translated
into more than 15 languages - writes about how baseball reflects the
fracture between Cubans.

HAVANA, Aug 5 2013 (IPS) - For Cubans, baseball is not a sport, much
less a game: it is almost a religion, and taken very seriously.

Baseball was brought to Cuba around the mid-19th century by young men
whose families had sent them to study in cities in the United States.

Back then, "el juego de pelota", as it was called in Cuba, had crucial
importance in different areas of the national spirituality: as a
non-conformist social activity that indicated a desire for progress
(United States' modernity in contrast with the backwardness of Spain –
the former colonial power); as a manifestation of national unity,
because very soon it was played all over the island; and as a means of
bringing together social classes and ethnic groups (because Afro-Cubans
and peasants soon became devotees of the game).

It was also a performance in which sport and culture came together,
thanks to the entertainment provided by "orquestas de danzones" (bands
playing the Cuban national dance), the design of baseball teams'
uniforms, modernist pennants and graphics, and the artistic and
journalistic literature devoted to commentating on and promoting the sport.

For Cubans, baseball has been the most played and most beloved of
sports, the one that has given rise to the most legends and has carried
the greatest social weight. In recent years it has also been (as it
could not avoid being) a battleground for some of the most critical
political, social and economic conflicts taking place in Cuban society.

Several dozen Cuban players have taken the risk of being branded
"deserters" or "traitors" by official rhetoric, deciding to depart the
island to try their fortunes in other leagues (especially in U.S. Major
League Baseball). This has caused a commotion in Cuban society and
sport, which cling to the models and politics of amateur sports followed
in the socialist countries.

The departure of these players from the country has had three basic
consequences.

One, for sport: a drain on regional and national teams, since a
"deserter" is banned from returning to represent his or her club or
country at any official event.

Another, economic: while athletes on the island earn the salaries of
"amateurs", those doing well abroad can sign contracts worth (many)
millions of dollars, and even those whose performance is less
outstanding can earn at least several hundred thousand dollars a year.

And thirdly, political: the Cuban government, without essentially
modifying its sports policy, has begun to allow baseball players to be
contracted for professional tournaments abroad (although not for the
Major Leagues).

The perpetual tension of baseball politics allows this sport to express,
in a quantitative way, the distance between Cubans living on the island
and those who have left it in search of new horizons.

Its overwhelming influence in Cuban society and spirituality transform
it, together with its cultural expressions, into one of the facets of
Cuban life where any moves toward reconciliation and communication have
special connotations, capable of influencing every order of life,
including politics.

Recently a Cuban businessman living in Miami had the bold idea of
holding two or three baseball games in the southern U.S. state of
Florida among retired players of Cuba's most emblematic club of the last
50 years, the Havana Industriales.

The novelty was that they would play on the other side of the Florida
Strait and the intended participants would be former players living both
within Cuba and outside the country – that is, the so-called "deserters."

The first step would be obtaining permission from the Cuban authorities
for the players to meet and play against their former teammates. Without
official confirmation, it was understood that permission had been
granted, but silently, as if nothing were going on.

The second step was up to the other side of the Strait: would Cuban
exiles accept the presence of Cubans living in Cuba at a public event?

From the outset, former players living outside of the country were
favourably disposed to the idea, to the satisfaction of most of the
Cuban exiles, who looked forward to seeing their old idols again.
However, a small but powerful minority of the exiles were against the
proposal.

That is when the event promoters' tortuous ordeal began, as in addition
to receiving threats of all kinds, they have had to wander the city of
Miami looking for a baseball field to hold the matches in. But the
promoters vow that the event will be held, "even if it is in a canefield."

To lack the capacity to see the momentous social and political
significance for Cuba and its future of having émigré players and those
who have remained in the country fraternise on a baseball field is an
attitude of political blindness. But I believe, above all, it is an
expression of a fracture of the Cuban national soul that is so deep, so
charged with resentment, that not even something as sacred as baseball
can easily mend it.

Too many years of deadlock, hatred, desire for revenge, and exchanges of
insults and abuse (those who left the country are "gusanos" or worms,
turncoats, traitors; those who stayed behind are communists, oppressors,
Castro accomplices, etc.) have accumulated and still muddy the present
and future of the different fragments of the broken heart of this
Caribbean island nation.

Source: "IPS – Cuba, a Country with a Broken Heart | Inter Press
Service" -
http://www.ipsnews.net/2013/08/cuba-a-country-with-a-broken-heart/