The Cuban Baseball Crisis

There is a famous Abbott and Costello comedy sketch detailing the occupants of each position on a baseball field. Endless questions and equally endless non-answers lead to exasperation and frustration of hilarious proportions. As the baseball world prepares for the inaugural World Baseball Classic, sixteen nations are engaged in such debates concerning their national squad. Breaking news from Washington: finally a definitive set answers to the old line of questioning. Who's on first? What's on second? The response is startlingly clear: if you're Cuban, it doesn't matter. Because you're not allowed to play.

From an athletic standpoint, the decree makes little sense. Regardless of political differences, Cuba shares the Latin American passion for the game. If baseball is America's national past-time, it is Cuba's present tense; one nation under beisbol. And yet, one month following President Fidel Castro's unexpected and celebrated acceptance, the invitation has been revoked. In the opinion of the US Treasury Department, Cuban participation in the event would be in the best interest of the the socialist government, and therefore falls prey to the 1962 embargo imposed upon the country by John F. Kennedy. How the mandated distribution of profits between minor league baseball organizations could be remotely related to political gain, however, has yet to be revealed.

What was discussed however, was an act of international diplomacy to quickly resolve the debate. Not wanting to completely dash Cuban baseball ambitions, the United States responded with an insulting gesture of generosity. On the same day that the Bush administration trumpeted about democratic elections in Iraq, free of American influence, it was suggested by several politicians that the United States compile a team of American players with Cuban heritage, on behalf of the island. Ironic, isn't it? Imagine a Canadian hockey team was assembled in the same fashion. If there was ever one cause grand enough to motivate a consensual attack on our southern neighbours, that would be it.

Even in politics, there are exceptions to every rule. After watching the clamoring of Major League general managers to sign Cubans Jose Contreras and the brothers Hernandez (Orlando and Livan), it is clear that, despite public policy, there is no embargo on the importation baseball players. Once a Cuban player renounces their affiliation with Castro, they become worthy of playing baseball with Americans. Suddenly, with their axis of evil status voided, they become incredibly desirable. Desirable enough, in fact, that three Cuban ballplayers were signed to the Texas Rangers under the ownership of one George W. Bush. It has often been suggested that if Elian Gonzalez had been found with a baseball glove and a fastball, Major League owners would have ensured him a home on American soil.

The most pressing question is, what is the American government afraid of? The climate at hand is different than that of 1962. This is no Cuban Missile Crisis, we're talking about a game. There are no political systems or contested territories at stake. A Cuban victory would not miraculously stifle American democracy any more than an American victory would threaten Cuban health care. If anyone can be accused of stockpiling arms, the guilty parties would be the American Major Leagues. The arms would belong to Cuban pitchers. If there is a concern about illegal weaponry, one needn't look further than the borderline bionic body of Barry Bonds (USA) or Sammy Sosa's corked bat (Dominican Republic).

The way the American Treasury is posturing, one might envision Castro on first, Guevera on second, and Osama on third. Word around the oval office has it that Kim Jong-Il has a mean curve ball. Despite the public hysteria, the free world needn't despair - the aforementioned won't be there. Since Fidel has announced that not even Cuban defectors will be eligible to play for their country, the lineup in question will consist of players who are relatively unknown off of the island. Not even the blessed purity of baseball is at risk, neither Joe Jackson or Pete Rose have anything remotely resembling a Cuban passport.

Regardless of your stance concerning Cuban politics or American foreign policy, a Cuban entry into the championships would be a breath of fresh air into a sports market dominated by big name players with even bigger pay cheques. If America wants to truly defend its past time, the competition should include the best the world has to offer. If that includes a sunny island off the coast of Miami, so be it. If it takes baseball to bring parties together and leave politics behind them, let's make it happen. After all, that's what our games are for.