The Common Language of Beisbol

By Jeff

Stepping out of the taxi in the middle of Havana with no place to stay and no formal currency was an adventurous (or idiotic) way to begin my travels. However, my fear of the unknown quickly subsided with one loud cheer. The taxi had dropped us off in the heart of Havana, since we had no destination and did not speak enough Spanish to communicate with the taxi driver. There in the middle of the plaza were two giant movie theater screens with thousands of Cubans gathered. It was the middle of April and for Cubans that meant one thing… World Series time. The league is very different from traditional American standards. There are only six teams that compete while the league has somewhere around twelve teams. We happened to be dropped off in the middle of Havana’s Industriales (the Yankees of Cuba) section. Havana has two teams, but the favorite by a long shot are the Industriales (where both Livan and Orlando Hernandez played). It was an amazing site to see, since many do not own televisions they had gathered at town square to watch their team. The game was being played in Santiago de Cuba, and traveling to another city is next to impossible for many, so this was the place to be. Industriales took an early lead and the crowd erupted with excitement as if we were sitting right there at the game. Feeling the energy of the crowd that night was indescribable, as they were laughing, singing, dancing and cheering; I had goose bumps and I knew this forbidden world was about to take me on an experience of a lifetime.

Skipping ahead to strictly the baseball side of the trip is something that I should probably do on a public website. We found a family that was willing to take us in and stay in their apartment. A few households have agreements with the Cuban government to use their places as a sort of bed and breakfast for a monthly fee. The family had the grandmother, mother, son and his wife all staying under one roof. It is normal to have three or even four generations of family living under the same roof. The son’s name was Alex and he was in his early 30’s. After watching a game with Alex one evening he convinced us to go to the stadium the next day. At first, I was a little skeptical because of some past experiences we had with large crowds in Cuba, but we decided to go for it anyway. “They reserve seats for tourists behind home plate,” Alex told us, “you should have no problem sitting there.”

We arrived at the stadium by ten for a one o’clock game, walking through narrow alleyways and dodging the occasional scooter that would come zipping by. Every family on the way to the stadium was outside their homes dressed in all blue (for the Industriales), waving flags and cheering on their team. Kids were playing baseball anywhere they could find a spot. Even the capital of Havana had many broken windows from years of serving as the right field wall. They used broomsticks and whatever they could find for a ball; one ball I examined was nothing more then a rolled up bunch of tape. The occasional kid would have a glove, but most used their bare hands.

As we approached the stadium the noise was growing louder and louder. What started off as a dull roar now sounded like a deafening frenzy of absolute chaos. Entire streets around the stadium were jammed packed with people and there was barely an inch to squeeze through. Porta potties (more like shacks with holes in the ground) were overflowing on corners and running into the gutters letting out a distinct odor. Every ten feet there would be a band of five to six people playing salsa with a group in front dancing. Let me tell you there is nothing more attractive than a Cuban woman dancing salsa. The general admission section for Cubans already extended several city blocks and was growing longer by the second. The tourist seats also had a long line and tickets were all sold out. This was what I was really hoping for, a chance to sit in the stands with the true fans and see what a real game is like. Tickets were equivalent to 5 cents American, we had to pay a Cuban citizen to buy our tickets because we were not allowed. After a lot of negotiating, we found someone who was willing to buy the tickets for a buyer’s fee of $1. We had to get in line which had almost doubled in size since we first arrived.

I felt the energy again that I felt that night in the town square, the rush of emotions running through me was something I had never felt before. Three Americans standing in line with thousands of Cubans, we stuck out like a sore thumb; right away we could tell this probably never happened. No tourists sit in the stands with the Cubans, they all sit behind home plate in their padded chairs, not the cement bleachers around the rest of the stadium. We stood in line for two hours before the line began to move and when it did it was mayhem. It truly became every man for himself, as we desperately tried to stay together it was easier said then done. Squeezing through, stepping around, ducking under, avoiding the occasional ass squeeze by the Cuban girls laughing hysterically after each pinch; we were finally able to make our way to the front gate. We were filtered in through a set of barricades and then pushed back several times by a military soldier ruining ten minutes of dodging your way through to make it five feet. After a quick pat down for illegal contraband and a few awkward, “what are you guys doing at this gate glances,” we made our way through.

Instantly, we were approached by a group who seemed to be around our age, three guys and three girls, because we had no idea where to go next. Our tickets said nothing on them and it was just as much chaos inside as outside. They were very nice and spoke excellent English, which made communication much easier, considering my broken Spanish. They brought us through the stadium and down to some great seats almost field level in right.

The first three minutes we were there was the only sitting we would do the entire game. People brought whatever they had for instruments and there was music throughout the entire game. Kids would wear cardboard cutouts of hats on their heads, and the slightest breeze would blow them off never to be seen again. Many people enjoyed meat on a stick and some type of juice out of a small can. Instead of balloons or beach balls being hit around in the crowd, they would blow up condoms and knock them around (no joke). At first I tried dodging the condoms, because I really didn’t want to touch them. By the end of the game I was catching them and letting them bounce off my head. The singing and dancing is what impressed me most about the game. The entire game, over two and a half hours, no one stopped dancing around, cheering and enjoying life. They only used the scoreboard for night games, but anyone in the stadium at any time could tell you the score, what inning, how many outs, how many strikes and how many balls. Most could probably even tell you how many pitches had been thrown by the starters.

It was the most amazing experience I’ve ever had at a baseball game or any other sporting event for that matter. The energy in that stadium could be felt from your head to your toes, and the feeling I had walking out that day is something I will never feel again and never forget. I have a deep appreciation for Cuba, their culture, their people and their lifestyle; it has been untouched and unchanged. They have a special way about themselves; their positive attitude and resolve is contagious to anyone that comes across them. They have a true love of life and make the most of every opportunity. People are all the same no matter what walk of life they may come from. We are all trying to survive in a world that no one understands. War, hate, greed, crime, pollution and poverty are all man made problems that can be solved by men. For all people truly want the same thing, we all want to enjoy life the short time that we inhabit this planet. We can send people to the moon, but not figure out how to co-exist. I do not believe that the world is tough and only the strong survive. A new echelon of evolution has been established, that now favors evolution of the mind. Our species is unlike any other to inhabit this planet and we are in a unique situation to change and adapt unlike any other in history. Nothing is inevitable and nothing is just a part of life. The human race is in a situation to not only better ourselves, but better each other. For the first time in history, a species has the ability to live as one with each other and our planet; start to find answers to the real questions of life and what we are a part of… Why are we here, Where did we come from and Where can we go?

Oh, and the Industriales won that game but Santiago de Cuba won the series.