Have a Cigar, pt. 2

It’s official! The U.S. Treasury department has reversed their stance, and Cuba is now allowed into the World Baseball Classic.

Of course, if you read my column, “Have a Cigar”, you’ll know that I was one of the very first to advocate this turn of events. And as I noted in that column, it has nothing to do with the Pink Floyd song.

I just like a good Cuban cigar. I have experienced these legally, in trips to Toronto, and believe me, the plant is something very different from what we have in America. Exquisite and smooth, it makes you think it’s possible that it even cures lung cancer.

So for everyone who was wondering—no, I don’t have Fidel Castro posters hanging in my house. I don’t even own Juan Castro in my Strat-O-Matic league.

I don’t believe in socialism, or communism, or whatever bleeping-ism they have on that little island. I’ve never been there.

I just want everyone to get to play baseball.

Of course, Havana went to great lengths to get into the WBC. They offered to donate their winnings to Hurricane Katrina relief funds. They said they didn’t care if players defected.

One can only hope that they are also going to be passing out cigars to the writers covering the WBC. I am still waiting on word of my press pass, but I hope to be at the finals in San Diego.

So let freedom ring! Castro’s boys get to play baseball in the U.S.! What’s next? Disneyland builds a franchise outside Havana? We could take that one away from the French—they don’t seem to like it very much.

Cuban athletes get to experience all that is America—after they get through customs, and the Patriot Act, and probably a few friendly drug sniffing dogs.

Maybe Jose Canseco will greet them at the airport, with Raphael Palmeiro, Sammy Sosa, Barry Bonds and Mark McGwire, and tell them about the shining purity of the American way of life, and baseball.

Better watch the dogs, Raffy—you won’t have Miggy Tejada to blame if you get busted this time.

(For those of you incapable of sensing sarcasm, this blog was written with tongue firmly in cheek.)

Peace-Out
Jim Evans
jevans@baseballdigestdaily.com