Following a renovation that was completed this month, private SMEs have opened where the previously unsupplied state cafeterias were located.
14ymedio, José Lassa, Havana, March 23, 2025 — No roar was coming from the stands, the blackboard had no light, and barely one part of the Latin American stadium, in Havana, had an audience on Friday afternoon. However, the followers of the Industriales team enjoyed the 6-3 victory against Granma and briefly recalled the glory days of the Coloso del Cerro when the passion for baseball attracted crowds on the Island.
At the beginning of this month, maintenance and repair work was completed in the interior areas of the most important stadium in the Cuban capital. With the newly painted walls and the field in better shape, the house of the Leones resumed its programming and will host the III Elite League of baseball. On Saturday, Granma would take revenge and defeat the Blues after taking advantage of three home runs, closing the score 4 to 2.
But on Friday, that obstacle had not yet gotten in the way of the Havama team, especially impacted by the exodus of its players and the discouragement that has taken hold in the national sport. That afternoon they reigned over their concrete jungle, supported by a few followers who were more attracted by curiosity over the stadium repairs than by what was happening in the field.
That day, the opening pitchers were Andy Vargas for Industriales and César Gracía for the Granma team, two of the best pitchers in the Elite League. But the most mentioned player was not one of those on the field. The most heard name in conversations and debates was Yulieski Gourriel. The 40-year-old from Sancti Spíritus recently reached an agreement with the San Diego Padres to join their spring training camp.
“Gurriel should be ashamed!” roared a fan who harangued the players who were somewhat lacking in spark when it came to running the bases or trying to catch the ball. “You can’t ask them for more,” said a woman in defense of the athletes, who receive a monthly salary of 8,500 pesos for participating in the tournament, less than 25 dollars at the current informal exchange rate.
Despite the soulless show, a local conga continued to play for much of the game, and the stands above home plate were full. The spectators with the most resources kept going in and out of their seats to look for something to eat or drink, incursions that ended, most of the time, with thousands of pesos spent. The regulars at the sports complex, however, poor people from the Cerro neighborhood that surrounds the colossus, were notable for their austerity. Dressed in worn clothing, they kept their eyes fixed on the field and consumed nothing during all nine innings.
Where the undersupplied state cafeterias once were, some premises managed by private MSMEs have opened. There are candy stores, which offer not only slices of cake, tortes and bow-shaped pastries but also whole cakes at 1,300 pesos that don’t fit well in the context of stands without spoons, plates or birthdays. For those who prefer something salty, the options are cheese pizzas at 300 pesos or ham pizzas for 360. To balance so many carbohydrates, you can always buy an imported soda for 250 or an energizing drink for 300 pesos.
The ban on the sale of alcohol is maintained, and inspections at the entrance seek to prevent the entrance of knives and the typical bottles of rum that people try to hide in the waist band of their pants. That close link between hits and beers, home runs and long sips of a cold Hatuey or a refreshing Polar are a thing of the past. The Cuban brewing industry, which invested in recreation and sports centers, financed stadiums and sponsored baseball players, was banished from the stadium decades ago.
Advertising also stands out for its absence. There are no posters with ads, nor banners recommending refreshments or the benefits of sports sneakers. The Cerro is a stadium where austerity has been imposed, which also affects the whole spectacle. “Revolutionary baseball” is like this: dull, without ads or distractions but also poor in resources and joy.
“It seems that they didn’t have enough paint,” summarized a follower of the Havana team while pointing to the nearby building, across the street, which for years has worn the intense blue color and the initials of the Industriales team. With the faded facade and the moldy eaves where weeds now grow, the building stands as a symbol of the current state of Cuban baseball. Inside, some apartments, empty due to the emigration of their owners, are looking for buyers to inhabit them, at bargain prices.
It’s also a metaphor for the absences, in the field and the baseball stands, of all those who have left
Translated by Regina Anavy
