Fans make their own stands at a Cuban baseball park (top). Players may ride to work on their bicycles. Kit Krieger saw one score a home run ‘and a fan came up and gave him a chicken. That’s not going to happen at Fenway Park.’

Cuba, sí; béisbol, too
The Caribbean island nation is neither the hell of right-wing imaginings nor the heaven of the Left. Its old-school love of baseball, says superfan Kit Kreiger, is where the twain meet

story by JON AZPIRI

The most surreal sporting experience of my life was attending a baseball game at the Estadio Latinoamericano in Havana, Cuba. At first, the 62-year-old stadium seemed like any other ballpark, but several key elements were missing. There was no admission or assigned seating. There was no advertising in the outfield, just giant banners of Che Guevara. In between innings, there were no contests or promotions. Instead, the crowd danced to the beat of salsa or reggaetón. There were virtually no concession stands or souvenir stands. The only chance I had to spend my money was when I was propositioned by a prostitute while sitting in the stands (I declined).

The only thing that was the same was the game itself. Although there were stylistic differences, the game was familiar to North American eyes. There were several ballplayers that day who were good enough to make millions in the Major Leagues. Instead, they stay in Cuba, isolated from the world, and make a few dollars a month.

“It’s a parallel baseball universe,” says Kit Krieger, the retired BCTF President who runs Cubaball Tours, a company that operates baseball tours in Cuba. “Baseball, like everything else in the world, has been homogenized. The Dominican Republic, Japan, it’s all the same. It’s in the orbit of American-style pro baseball. Here’s one place that’s a time warp, it’s a parallel universe where people can see baseball where it’s the game and only the game. It’s not adulterated by all the things that fans think diminish baseball.”

During my visit to the Havana ballpark, there were several times when I wished I had someone like Krieger to show me around. Even though I speak Spanish, I had a tough time getting around due to Cuba’s limited transportation and resources. I also missed out on Cuba’s rich baseball history, in large part because much of it remains unknown to everyone except the most rabid baseball fans.

That’s where Krieger comes in. The Cubaball Tour (cubaballtours.com) takes fans to five or six Cuban baseball games in cities far from the tourist resorts. The group visits historic baseball sites and meets some of Cuba’s baseball legends. One of those legends is Conrado Marrero, a 97-year-old Cuban who played in the Major Leagues in the 1950s. Krieger has helped raise money for Marrero, who lives off of a meager Cuban pension.
That’s not all Krieger has done for Cuban baseball. He helped restore a plaque at a stadium in Havana that commemorates a 1930 tour of Major League all-stars. He also collects equipment from local Little League teams and sends them to Ciudad Deportivo, the largest sports facility in Cuba.

Krieger’s passion for Cuban béisbol started in 1997 when he visited the island nation on behalf of the B.C. Teacher’s Federation. The lifelong fan, who once was clubhouse manager for the old Vancouver Mounties of the Pacific Coast League, became fascinated with the Cuban game. He used the connections he developed through the BCTF to set up Cubaball in 2001. Over the years, Krieger has fostered relationships with several Cuban government and sporting officials, giving him unprecedented knowledge and access to Cuban baseball.
The majority of the people on Krieger’s tour are guys in their 50s, 60s and 70s who love the game’s history. For them, Cuba brings back waves of nostalgia. “It’s baseball as they think they remember it,” says Krieger. “They are people who love baseball but are disillusioned by the gap between the lives of players and fans. They say that Mickey Mantle rode the subway to Yankee Stadium. He lived in the neighbourhood. To them, this is what baseball should be. We went to a game where a guy hit a walkoff home run, then went back to the dugout, got on his bicycle to ride home and a fan came up and gave him a chicken. That’s not going to happen at Fenway Park.”

Krieger hopes the tour is more than just a walk down memory lane. He wants it to break down preconceived notions about Cuba and give travelers a glimpse of the complexity and richness of Cuban life. “Cuba is not the hell that the Right says it is and it’s not the heaven that the Left says it is either,” says Krieger.

Cubans are famous for their warmth and good humour, but there can be a cool distance between Cubans and foreigners, due in large part to what critics call “tourism apartheid,” a policy that tries to limit contact between tourists and locals. While the government appears to be easing those restrictions, it still can be hard to get a Cuban to let his guard down.
To Krieger, baseball is a way to break through those barriers. During his tour, he takes his group to “Esquina Caliente” (Hot Corner), a place in Havana’s Parque Central where Cubans stand around and talk baseball. The conversations can get pretty heated. In a country where people often watch what they say, it’s a place where Cubans can talk freely about something that everyone, regardless of their political persuasion or country of origin, can relate to. Says Krieger: “I’ve never met a Cuban who couldn’t talk baseball.”