Cuban ballplayers also cite over-stimulation, food, in tales of defection to U.S.

I -- and clearly many of you -- enjoyed the Professor's story about leaving Cuba today. It was great to hear directly from a primary source on the subject, and it reminded me of other similar stories I've read over the years.

I'm a baseball geek -- I not only watch, but read everything I can about the sport and used to write at a national baseball blog.

I've long been fascinated with the Cuban baseball players who defect from Cuba and come play in America, leaving their past lives behind and often their families too. Cuba is one of the few countries in the world where baseball is a major sport and selfishly as a fan, it's always disturbed me we don't get to see many of the best players in the world compete. Obviously, baseball is just a small reason to care about Cuba with so many families affected by the dictatorship, but baseball is one of the more prevalent ways Cuba is discussed in American media.

I thought I'd share some of my favorite stories of Cuban ballplayers defecting and tie them to a theme Professor Drissi mentioned -- initial over-stimulation (like at the Costa Rican market) -- and highlighting references to food as it has been a theme of this course.



Livan Hernandez was the first big-name Cuban player who defected since I've been a baseball fan, leading the Marlins to win the 1997 World Series in his rookie season in MLB. This New York Times article touches on the difficulty Livan had to adjusting to America (emphasis mine):

There was, he acknowledges, tremendous culture shock, probably exacerbated by his fear that his family would suffer because of his defection. ''When people arrive in this country, they arrive blind,'' Hernandez said recently. ''They do not know what they are getting themselves into. They do not know what there is, what opportunities are out there, and would not know exactly what to do.''
Tall and skinny when he defected, Hernandez immediately began adding weight, often eating at fast-food restaurants. His weight reportedly neared 250 pounds, about 30 pounds heavier than his listed weight. Hernandez was 2-4 with a 5.14 earned-run average for Class AAA Charlotte before being demoted to Class AA, in Portland, Me.
''Last year, I ate quite a bit at McDonald's,'' he said. ''Last year, I went by a Burger King and I had to stop. But now I am eating different foods.''

Livan's half-brother, Orlando "El Duque" Hernandez, defected from Cuba later in 1997 and would later win the World Series with the Yankees. El Duque had his own story in the NY Times, I've emphasized the part about food:

Wearing a teal Florida Marlins baseball cap and a teal Charlotte Hornets sweat shirt, Hernandez swung from one end of the emotional spectrum to the other today as he and the others spoke to reporters in a cramped room in the Immigration building. He was jovial as he spoke of his desire to join his brother on the Marlins and as he expressed a craving for McDonald's fast food. (Eight Big Mac meals were later delivered to the offices.) But when he started talking about his decision to leave Cuba and the ordeal of his journey, Hernandez became overwhelmed with emotion.

The best Cuban-born player in MLB right now is Aroldis Chapman. He had an usual defection path, going through Andorra and Spain before coming to America. This ESPN story, written while Chapman was in Spain, has a few highlights, with me emphasizing the parts about over-stimulation and food:

Chapman then becomes enthralled with someone's iPhone, his current obsession. He wonders aloud how he can get one. Chapman swipes at the screen and asks if it's possible to download a chat application so he can converse with friends -- new ones from Spain, and old ones from Cuba. He looks at the iPhone with lust, like covetous major league scouts look at him.
......
Chapman often eats two steaks at a time for dinner. He plays video games until the early hours of the morning. He sleeps each day past noon. He enjoys going to discos. He likes designer jeans and big clunky watches that conspicuously sit on his wrist like a wall clock.

Just this week, an article was written about Jose Contreras, who's had a decade-long career after defecting from Cuba, in case you're like me and can't get enough of these stories.

Hopefully at least one of you found this interesting and I'll see you all next week.