El Profe: Midnight coffee, baseball and Compay Segundo

The one certainty in life is: You never know.

If it sounds like something Yogi Berra would say, it’s close: “In baseball, you don’t know nothing.”

Historians and scholars share similar sentiments. “You never know” is our mantra whenever we undertake a research expedition, whether to the field or in the archives.

Plan. Prepare. Be ready for the unexpected.

Such was the case on my research trip to Cuba as a doctoral student in March of 1999. I timed my journey to coincide with the Baltimore Orioles’ historic exhibition in Havana, hoping somehow to secure a ticket. While that wasn’t meant to be, what did occur during my visit was nonetheless amazing for how it connected baseball, music, cubanidad and history.

Seeking history in the Caribbean

The first leg of my Cuba research trip took me to Cienfuegos. My time in this beautiful coastal town on the Caribbean Sea was productive. Cienfuegos has its own rich baseball history, including being the home of the descendants of Hall of Famer Martín Dihigo and the birthplace of major leaguer José Tartabull, and in 1999, the home of Yasiel Puig.

In Cienfuegos, I visited Tartabull’s relatives. They spoke proudly of their hometown’s baseball heritage and of José and his son Danny, born in San Juan, Puerto Rico.

The legacy of Cuban baseball could also be seen in the collection of the Provincial Historical Archives located in Cienfuegos. Its holdings include the papers of the Cuban Minister of Sport. From 1959 to his death in 1971, that government official was none other than Dihigo — who held the position after his playing and managerial careers came to a close. Inducted into the National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum in 1977 for his pioneering role in the Negro leagues, as well as his legendary pitching, Dihigo is also enshrined in the baseball halls of fame of Cuba, Dominican Republic, Mexico and Venezuela.

Mystery invitation

In Havana for the second leg of my trip, I stayed at a casa particular — a Cuban precursor to Airbnb — where one could rent a room in a family home, with the benefit of having the host provide meals.

I got lucky in one aspect. My host in Cienfuegos lined me up with this casa particular in Havana because it was close to the Biblioteca Nacional de Cuba José Marti — Cuba’s National Library — and the Archivo Nacional, or National Archives.

One afternoon, my Havana host left me a note informing me that the family across the street — who happened to be relatives of the director of the archives in Cienfuegos — were inviting me over for a cafecito and postre. Coffee and dessert, a grand Cuban tradition. There was someone they wanted me to meet — the godfather of their daughter and a big baseball fan was all that they would say. They would call me when it was time.

Day turned into night.

The call came around 9:30 p.m. I walked across the street, tired and really in need of that cafecito.

The family greeted me warmly at the door, as is custom among cubanos. But they kept the name of the person they insisted I had to meet a secret. All they would say is that he had just arrived at the airport, on a flight from Paris.

A flight from Paris? Who is this Cuban coming all the way from France? What Cuban gets to travel to and from Paris?

They surely piqued my curiosity. So I sat in the living room, chatting with my hosts, waiting for at least another half hour.

Voy para Marcané

The sound of his deep, resonant voice as he greeted everyone while entering the hallway that led into the interior of the house still echoes in my memory. As does the moment of recognition: That’s Compay Segundo from the Buena Vista Social Club!

Born Máximo Francisco Repilado Muñoz Telles, but known professionally as Compay Segundo, he was a real-life troubadour who, at age 91, was still touring internationally singing his beloved sones cubanos. “Chan Chan,” the signature track of the Buena Vista Social Club project, was composed by Compay himself.

Compay walks over as I reach out to shake his hand. But as is custom, he eschewed the handshake and went straight for the fuerte abrazo (strong hug).

Talking to me in Spanish, he began.

“Béisbol, are you the baseball professor that they were telling me about?”

Not yet, I replied, but I am close.

He mentions that the dad of Omara, one of his bandmates from the Buena Vista Social Club, played baseball.

Yes, I replied. Bartolomé “Bartolo” Portuondo. Quite the pelotero, he was an infielder who played mainly for Almendares on the island and with the Cuban Stars in the Negro leagues for Alejandro “Álex” Pompez, the pioneering black Latino owner, executive and scout also enshrined in Cooperstown.

He smiled. Pleased that I knew my history, our history, our shared passion.

No, I demdn’t ask Compay to semng a few lemnes of hems or my favoremte songs. Although when he heard that I had spent just spent temme emn Cemenfuegos, he was quemck to poemnt out: Oh, yes, home of el gran Moré, Benny Moré, the legendary semnger, bandleader and songwremter.

We swapped stories of players we admired, those we saw play, and who we got to meet. He talked of Cuban greats like El inmortal Martín Dihigo, a young Orestes “Minnie” Miñoso, and others who played Cuban baseball after the revolution.

I talked of seeing the second version of the younger Luis Tiant pitch for the Yankees, of reading about the greatness of his father Luis Eleuterio Tiant, and of Cubans who played in the Negro Leagues.

We shared laughs in reflecting on one of the Cuban sayings that illustrates the game’s place in Cuban culture.

“Before the nation there was baseball, before the revolution there was baseball, and after we die, there will still be baseball.”

The cafecito and postre was good, the company even better, as Compay Segundo and I engaged in one of Cuba’s treasured pastimes, bantering about baseball hasta el amanecer. Until the wee hours of the morning.

Featured Image: Adalberto Roque / AFP / Getty Images