When I heard the news that the United States and my home country, Cuba, were resuming diplomatic relations, I was so happy. I never thought this day would come in my lifetime. Though it took too long—I’m 90 years old—I’m thrilled to be here to see it. I’ve been an American citizen for 30 years. I have always loved living here. Playing major league baseball in America was my dream. But you always have a soft spot for the place where you were born.
I grew up on a sugar farm in Perico, a small town around 90 miles east of Havana. We were poor; we had no electricity, no radio. But I was raised in a loving family, and my parents taught me the values of hard work. Like my father, I worked in the sugar fields while growing up, but also knew I had baseball talent. Each sugar ranch had a baseball team, and I threw so hard—I was a pitcher back then—that other players were afraid of facing me. We didn’t have real gloves. To pay for our uniforms, we would buy empty sugar boxes and resell them for a dollar profit. We gave our money to a woman who made them out of cotton flour sacks.
In 1945, I left Cuba to play in the Negro Leagues in the U.S. Some people warned me not to go to America, because of racial discrimination and segregation. But although segregation wasn’t as formal as it was in the United States, Cuba was no racial paradise. It was very, very difficult for black ballplayers to play professionally in Cuba.
Witness Cuba's Evolution in 39 Photos
An old American car, long a staple of Cuban roads, sits along Guanabo Beach, near Havana.Joakim Eskildsen for TIMEA group of youngsters in Central Havana sit on a street corner to discuss the latest news of the Spanish La Liga football league. Their hair is styled like their idols'—soccer stars and Reggaeton singers.Joakim Eskildsen for TIMEIn route to his job as a welder, 62-year-old Carlos stops at a government cafeteria to buy cigarettes.Joakim Eskildsen for TIMECockfighting, a Cuban tradition, takes place in an anti-aircraft bunker to avoid the police. Fighting is not forbidden, but gambling, which is always present at the matches, is.Joakim Eskildsen for TIMEAntonio Perez Hernandez shows off his prize-winning rooster prior to a fight in Campo Florido.Joakim Eskildsen for TIMEHavana’s most famous street, the Malecón, as a cold front rolls in.Joakim Eskildsen for TIMEAt his teacher's request, Rodney Cajiga, gets his hair cut in Justiz, a small town east of Havana.Joakim Eskildsen for TIMECorrugated zinc sheets barely cover a grocery store.Joakim Eskildsen for TIMEJesus, a fisherman from Puerto Escondido, returns from the sea. “It was a good day, despite the cold front,” he said, displaying one of the fish he caught.Joakim Eskildsen for TIMERoberto, 22, is a college dropout from the East, who moved to a small cottage in Havana to farm with his father, Jorge. “My wife got pregnant and I had to support her and the child. Here I have a chance," he said.Joakim Eskildsen for TIMEA pumpkin for sale, cut in half for clients to see it is still fresh.Joakim Eskildsen for TIMEDelvis Montero, 39, works seven days a week making charcoal and earns $100 a month. “I work hard so my children can go to school and never have to do this extremely hard work," she said.Joakim Eskildsen for TIMEMadelin, who works at a Havana boutique, hitchhikes to work each morning rather than taking the bus.Joakim Eskildsen for TIMEAround 7 in the evening, Cubans begin preparing dinner. Central Havana, usually crowded, look deserted.Joakim Eskildsen for TIMEAt night, neighbors leave their doors open to let the breeze in.Joakim Eskildsen for TIMEYunier Utre, 19, lives in the Teodoro Rivero settlement in Jaguey Grande, Matanzas province. He works in the mango plantations from sunup to sundown.Joakim Eskildsen for TIMETourists relax on lounge chairs at Melia Las Americas in Varadero, which is next to the only 18-hole golf course in Cuba.Joakim Eskildsen for TIMEThe wiring for the electrical system at a tenement in Old Havana.
Joakim Eskildsen for TIMEOld Havana at dusk.Joakim Eskildsen for TIMEJuan Lara, 72, takes his cows to graze roughly 10 miles from his home every morning.Joakim Eskildsen for TIMEJuan Carlos has been a fisherman all his life. Close to 70, he keeps this cottage in the Puerto Escondido fishermen’s village. “I have a real house in my town, 20 miles from here," Carlos said.Joakim Eskildsen for TIMEJaguey Grande’s Library, where students from nearby schools come every day to do their homework.Joakim Eskildsen for TIMEFidel Hernandez sets fire to the bushes around the fence he just installed to keep his goats enclosed. He has taken his grandson with him, as he says that he loves to hang around his grandpa.Joakim Eskildsen for TIMEThe growth of small private businesses, like this one in Pedro Pi, is a sign of changing times.Joakim Eskildsen for TIMEA woman at a telephone booth in Pedro Pi. There is only one phone in this farmer’s community, 12 miles from downtown Havana. Neighbors come to make their calls, get their messages and share gossip.Joakim Eskildsen for TIMEA government-run auto repair shop in Jaguey Grande.Joakim Eskildsen for TIMEA huge concrete school building.Joakim Eskildsen for TIMERicardo Rodriguez and his wife travel 30 miles every day to the town of Ceres to buy charcoal that they later sell in the town of Cardenas, near the Varadaero resort in Matanzas province. “The profits are meager, but we survive on that," Rodriguez said.Joakim Eskildsen for TIMEAguedo Leon (far right), 82, goes to the cattle register in Campo Florido, Havana city, to report the birth of a calf. It is mandatory for farmers to do so immediately after the cow delivers. Failing to report a new birth can result in a $20 fine.Joakim Eskildsen for TIMEOutside Havana, an old American car with a new Japanese engine is used as a taxi.Joakim Eskildsen for TIMEAt the Puerto Escondido fishermen’s village, a welder repairs the carriage they use to move fish into town.Joakim Eskildsen for TIMERiding on horse drawn carriages is still the main way to move in the Cuban countryside.Joakim Eskildsen for TIMEOrmiles Lores Rodriguez, 40, works as an accountant at the Grito de Baire farmimg cooperative. She says salaries have improved and employees get bonuses every three months if they meet their output quotas.Joakim Eskildsen for TIMEDusk falls on Old Havana.Joakim Eskildsen for TIMEDespite its age, the driver claims his car can reach speeds of 100 miles per hour, thanks to its engineering that includes a mix of American, Russian, Japanese and Cuban parts.Joakim Eskildsen for TIMETwo young men wait to go out with a girl in Old Havana. "We dress to impress her," they said, "and we take pictures to our barber for him to know exactly what we want."Joakim Eskildsen for TIMEAlicia, 8, crosses the street to buy candy in Patricia’s Cafeteria, 2 miles from Guanabo beach.Joakim Eskildsen for TIMEAn aging car drives through Old Havana at dusk.Joakim Eskildsen for TIMEA woman prays to Yemaya, the sea goddess, on the Malecón, Havana's main esplanade.Joakim Eskildsen for TIME
As my major league career took off in the 1950s, I went home to Cuba every offseason, to play winter ball and visit my family. It was a golden age. Tourists vacationed in Cuba. Havana nightlife was thriving. You can’t overstate how big baseball was in Cuba.
Things started to change once Fidel Castro came into power in 1959. I was a ballplayer, not a politician. To me, you don’t prop up the poor by taking away from the well-off. I feared the Cuban people would lose their freedom, their hard-earned property.
In 1961, I made the painful decision to leave Cuba for good. I saw where the country was headed, and did not agree with the Castro’s policies. I said goodbye to my two sisters, and my father. I never saw them again.
This brought great pain. But I like to look at the positive: We are entering a new era. If my doctor says I’m healthy enough to fly, I plan on traveling to Cuba soon, to be inducted into a hall of fame. Maybe I’ll see some of the same trees, the same sugar fields, I remembered as a boy.
We still don’t know what this new policy means for Cuban baseball players. Will they be able to go to the majors, and have the same opportunities I did? Will baseball teams construct academies in Cuba, like they’ve done in the Dominican Republic? If I get to talk to any young up-and-coming Cuban baseball players, I will tell them: don’t try to escape. Be legal. Don’t risk it. Everything is going to work out now. Everything is going to be happy. — as told to Sean Gregory
Minnie Minoso, a seven-time MLB All-Star, is the first black Cuban player to appear in the major leagues, and the only player to appear in a professional baseball game during seven different decades.
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