Japan knocked Cuba out of the World Baseball Classic yesterday in San Diego and its effects were felt as far away as Santiago de Cuba. A major infrastructure project, the first in the city since 1967–largely due to Soviet largess then–was dependent on the Cuban Baseball team staying in the Classic through the final round for funding.

Now it will have to be explained to the citizens of Santiago, that imperialist plots in the planning for more than twenty years — involving the CIA and unnaturally athletic Japanese families, including, but limited to, the notorious Matsuzaka, Ichiro and Iwakuma tribes — have unfortunately borne fruit. Another special period of sacrifice will be needed to overcome this setback. Ironically, a park with a baseball diamond was part of the plans.

Tangled non-Spalding Web

A Cuban baseball official dreams of defecting. But not for the typical reasons his former players always cite–family, freedom and hunger–no his reasons are largely professional. He sees his counterparts and his face turns a Cuban uniform red [that’s another thing, why couldn’t the revolution’s color have been a nice teal] with envy. See all those other baseball guys get to evaluate talent alone. In his case, he has to factor in the relative defection potential [it’s always there to a degree, the kid would have to be an idiot not to consider it]. You know how hard it is for a guy in his 50’s to figure out what young men are thinking? Figure out how desperate and unhappy his family is? Impossible, even for a ‘New Man.’

So for a number of years, he just kept everyone who appeared to want to be on the National team which gets to travel outside the country, off the team. But players caught on to that. So then he only kept players on the team who appeared to want to be on the team, thinking he was one step ahead of the con. But that proved to be a disaster when the players actually did defect. Just you try and explain that you didn’t think he would defect because he appeared anxious to get out of the country. God, he would never forget the recent Viciedo interrogation, they made him feel like a real chump. The moronic State official even lecturing him on baseball strategy.

He struggled to fall asleep last night. He was like most Cuban middle-aged men, resigned to their fate, but yet hoping that some nameless, impetuous younger man would act and pull them all out of this nightmare. Not tonight ‘viejo,’ not tonight. He was thinking politics, not baseball, now. Not his strong suit and never a good recipe for falling asleep. This would be a very long night indeed. To make it even worse, the first stanza of that stupid Yeats poem kept running through his head:

I know that I shall meet my fate
Somewhere among the clouds above;
Those that I fight I do not hate,
Those that I guard I do not love;

William Butler Yeats poem, ‘An Irish Airman Foresees His Death,’ is copied in full at end of post.

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An Irish Airman Foresees His Death by William Butler Yeats:

I know that I shall meet my fate
Somewhere among the clouds above;
Those that I fight I do not hate,
Those that I guard I do not love;

My country is Kiltartan Cross,

My countrymen Kiltartan’s poor,

No likely end could bring them loss

Or leave them happier than before.

Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,

Nor public men, nor cheering crowds,

A lonely impulse of delight

Drove to this tumult in the clouds;

I balanced all, brought all to mind,

The years to come seemed waste of breath,

A waste of breath the years behind

In balance with this life, this death.
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