Baseball in Cuba

Children (mostly boys) play improvised baseball games everywhere. I saw one boy batting with an empty 2 litre Coke bottle.


Devotees play overlapping games all around the national Capatolio building where I was called up as a pinch-hitter in an afternoon game between two unidentified teams.





I stared down the pitcher – which was not hard – and assumed my batting stance, crouching low to shrink the strike zone to his level. He wound up and delivered what was either a changeup or simply his best fastball. I lifted my left leg and hit the ball over the infielders and set off – at which point I realized I didn’t know where the bases were. ‘Donde el baso una?’ I yelled, and an infielder pointed to a tree beside the corner of the Capatolio. I reached first safely and feeling confident took a big lead towards where geometry led me to expect another base. The next batter popped a high fly ball and I tagged up at my tree, but the fielder caught it and apparently that was the third out. I had been sent in on a clean-up role and failed. I retired as the oldest player (by about 35 or 40 years) in the league.