Exito, October 23 thru 30
By Santiago Aroca
A year ago he was learning to drive but today he owns a $350,000 Ferrari. Two years ago, Cuba's state-controlled press was calling him an ''example of revolutionary virtue.'' Today the Florida Marlins' record-breaking rookie pitcher Liván Hernández is pursued by money, fame, women and candidates running for mayor.
Two years ago in Cuba, Hernández, 22, was making $6 a month, and he was so poor he only had one shirt to play in. His mother washed it for him by hand every night. There were few dates then. In order to supplement his meager income as an official athlete, Hernández took advantage of the Cuban government team's foreign trips to buy merchandise for resale in Cuba. On one trip to Mexico, he bought $100 worth of women's underwear, which he sold for $200 back home. It was a considerable profit by the communist island's standards.
''My life? You want to know about my life?,'' said Hernández. ''Why do I have to tell it to you? OK, I'll tell you what I remember.'' We talked to Hernández in the lobby of Pro Player Stadium, after a pack of other reporters had already had a go at him and moments before a game in which he and his his team mates would beat the Atlanta Braves. Hernández said a lot of things had happened in his life but he doesn't know why.
''It's like an interior force is pushing me, guiding me. When I played against the Braves in Atlanta, I threw the ball without thinking about it. I threw 15 times and put all the strength I had in my arm into it. I didn't even notice some of the guys I was striking out. I wasn't looking at what other people were doing or thinking about how to throw... a lot of times it's like that. You do things and only realize what you've done later. My life has always been like that,'' said Hernández, his hands toying with a Marlin's cap.
One subject he didn't want to talk about was Cuba. ''I'm not political, I'm not a communist, I'm not anything,'' said Hernández, whose mother, brother and other relatives remain in Cuba and subject to reprisals. ''They ask me a lot about that but I'm not going to say anything... I wish reporters would stop talking to me about that,'' said Hernández.
Hernández also wouldn't talk about Castro, who once watched him play from the presidential box in Cuba. ''I don't know if he's a good a ball player as they say. I never saw him play,'' said Hernández. However, he was willing to talk about his half-brother, Orlando ''Duque'' Hernández, who was banned from playing baseball in Cuba after Liván defected to the United States.
''He's very good, a lot better than me,'' said Hernández. ''It's a shame he can't play anymore.'' Orlando, who now works as a masseur at a hospital, has been following his brother's progress through U.S. radio programs reaching Cuba, where any mention of U.S. baseball on state-controlled radio is forbidden.
''I went to Las Tunas Saturday to be with my father and follow the games on the radio,'' Orlando said. ''Liván was fantastic. He's the best of the Marlins. It's not that the others are bad, but that he's fantastic.'' ''There's no doubt I'd love for us to be together and to be able to play. Baseball is our life,'' said Orlando.
After his brother defected to the U.S., Cuban authorities accused Orlando of also wanting to leave the country and banned him from playing baseball. ''That was very unfair because I wasn't planning to leave or anything like that,'' said Orlando. ''I only talked to some Cubans from Miami who brought me some things Liván sent me.'' Now the only place Orlando can play baseball is with some friends in a neighborhood park.
''It's sad for me not to be able to compete,'' said Orlando ''What I do is go to all the games I can. That they let me do.'' But now, after decades of free admission, you have to pay to watch ''professional baseball'' in Cuba. ''It's expensive, 10 to 30 pesos a game, and I make 190 a month,'' said Orlando. As boys, Liván and Orlando were so good the neighborhood kids didn't want to play with them, said Liván's mother Miriam Carreras, who lives on the Isle of Pines. ''They were really good. They beat everybody,'' said Carreras.
She said she had just received a visa from the United States Interests Section in Havana but didn't think the Cuban authorities would let her leave the island. In any case, she doesn't have the money to pay for the exit medical examination and other expensive fees charged by the Cuban government in dollars, she said. Liván Hernández said he is helping his family but that he needs to be discreet about it. ''It's a very complicted subject and I prefer not to discuss it publicly,'' said Hernández. ''Of course I love my mother and the rest of my family and I do whatever I can for them, but please understand I can't go into details. All I can say is that I want to bring my mother over and buy her a palace.''
Hernández first started planning to defect to the U.S. in 1994, in Venezuela. Recruiter Joe Cubas saw him play, liked what he saw, and secretly established contact with the young player. They agreed Hernández would make his break for freedom in Mexico, in September, 1995. ''His first step toward freedom almost cost him his life getting run over by a speeding car,'' said René Wing, a Cubas associate.
The escape took place in Monterrey, where Cubas sent a pretty girl to ask for Hernández' autograph at the baseball field. Inside the autograph book was a picture of Cubas and the phone number of his hotel. ''At midnight, Liván called me and said he was ready,'' said Cubas. Cubas drove to the motel where the Cuban team was staying and waited in his car nearby. He remembers Hernández coming out hesitantly. Then Cubas turned his lights on and off to signal the ball player.
As Hernández began crossing the street, a car started bearing down on him at a high rate of speed. He froze in the middle of the road, but the driver saw him and swerved around him. Hernández jumped inside Cubas' car. To put Cuban security agents accompanying the team off their scent, Cubas called a radio station to say Hernández was heading north toward Texas. The truth was that Cubas and Hernández travelled to Mexico City. From there they went to Venezuela and finally to the Dominican Republic, where Cubas arranged interviews for Hernández with American baseball teams.
Ironically, the Atlanta Braves wanted to sign Hernández but he went with the Marlins so he could live in Miami. His contract: $6.5 million for four years, with $2.5 for signing. Despite the fact his salary went from $6 a month in Cuba to $135,000 a month in America, Hernández had a rough start with U.S. baseball. He didn't speak English, which made it rough communicating with his coaches. There were run-ins with some fellow team members and he needed more training before he would be ready for the big show. So they packed him off to North Carolina and Maine to play in the minors for a while.
Hernández broke with Joe Cubas in a bitter dispute which neither will discuss, and signed with Juan Iglesias, who also represents the Canseco brothers. Eventually, things started falling into place for Hernández. A few days ago, in Atlanta, Cubas and Hernández made it up with a big hug. ''Yes, we're friends,'' Hernández said.
Today Hernández lives in a $500,000 Miami Beach apartment and owns three cars, a $350,000 yellow Ferrari, a $75,000 Mercedes and a $40,000 utility vehicle. As for his tastes, they're uncomplicated. ''Chico, what I like are women and food,'' Hernández said.
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