On the Cuban National Baseball Team and Their Recent Loss
Cuba lost to Japan in the final of the World Baseball Classic yesterday, 10-6. I was pretty bummed out, partially because I'm a fan of Cuba in general, despite the rampant human rights violations and senile, corrupt leadership. It's in my nature to root for the underdog, especially when the underdog was the only socialist nation in the Western Hemisphere for multiple decades, and it still manages to have a stronger economy than a good portion of the capitalist nations in South America, despite crippling trade embargoes imposed on it. So I guess it's natural for me to root for Cuba, especially when their team is composed entirely of current and former farmboys who got to where they are by virtue of incredible hard work and athleticism that was often no less than stunning- the Cuban pitching staff had the best pitchers in the tournament, hands down.
Most of the Cuban national team came from small village baseball teams, and they beat all sorts of teams with much more going for them than Cuba did. It all came down to one game, against the Japanese team. It was like Rocky vs. Ivan Drago- the scruffy underdog against the clinically engineered superhumans. I had high hopes.
The game itself was fairly worthless- Japan had Cuba beat. The sheer precision and speed of the Japanese team was too much, and it was clear from the start that Cuba was to lose. There was a brief resurgence of hope when Cuba rallied and actually pulled ahead, but that hope quickly faded, and Cuba lost.
In Legends, there was a general consensus that the good guys had won and all was well. While the Japanese team celebrated on the field, the viewer could see the Cuban team filing out of their dugout, barely 5 minutes after the game had ended. But I was really bummed out, and this wasn't just childish "Awww the Commies didn't win the symbolic ball game" bummed out, but rather something different, and I couldn't quite put my finger on it until I thought of the camera on the Plaza Del Revolucion or whatever it is called.
You see, every inning or so ESPN would cut to a camera in Havana, showing a cheering crowd, waving Cuban flags and pumping their fists in the air, packed together to watch the game on what looked like an old drive-in movie screen that was hanging from a crane. That, my friends, is why I was rooting for the fucking Cuban team. The Japanese players were playing it to be the champions, to win it, to get more exposure, whatever. You could tell by the way they carried themselves they didn't care that much. But, all through the tournament, the Cuban players were throwing themselves at the games they played. The viewer got the sense that they truly cared, that they were truly playing for something, but it was not clear to me what until I saw the camera in Havana.
The camera did not show the massed crowd's disappointment after the game, and it did not show them going back to their hovels, but I sensed them all the same. I wanted to clap them all on the back and remind them of those immortal words- Hasta La Victoria Siempre. It is not in the baseball fan's nature to give up after heartbreak, and I am sure Cuba will return, and I will root for them again. Viva Cuba!
Most of the Cuban national team came from small village baseball teams, and they beat all sorts of teams with much more going for them than Cuba did. It all came down to one game, against the Japanese team. It was like Rocky vs. Ivan Drago- the scruffy underdog against the clinically engineered superhumans. I had high hopes.
The game itself was fairly worthless- Japan had Cuba beat. The sheer precision and speed of the Japanese team was too much, and it was clear from the start that Cuba was to lose. There was a brief resurgence of hope when Cuba rallied and actually pulled ahead, but that hope quickly faded, and Cuba lost.
In Legends, there was a general consensus that the good guys had won and all was well. While the Japanese team celebrated on the field, the viewer could see the Cuban team filing out of their dugout, barely 5 minutes after the game had ended. But I was really bummed out, and this wasn't just childish "Awww the Commies didn't win the symbolic ball game" bummed out, but rather something different, and I couldn't quite put my finger on it until I thought of the camera on the Plaza Del Revolucion or whatever it is called.
You see, every inning or so ESPN would cut to a camera in Havana, showing a cheering crowd, waving Cuban flags and pumping their fists in the air, packed together to watch the game on what looked like an old drive-in movie screen that was hanging from a crane. That, my friends, is why I was rooting for the fucking Cuban team. The Japanese players were playing it to be the champions, to win it, to get more exposure, whatever. You could tell by the way they carried themselves they didn't care that much. But, all through the tournament, the Cuban players were throwing themselves at the games they played. The viewer got the sense that they truly cared, that they were truly playing for something, but it was not clear to me what until I saw the camera in Havana.
The camera did not show the massed crowd's disappointment after the game, and it did not show them going back to their hovels, but I sensed them all the same. I wanted to clap them all on the back and remind them of those immortal words- Hasta La Victoria Siempre. It is not in the baseball fan's nature to give up after heartbreak, and I am sure Cuba will return, and I will root for them again. Viva Cuba!