In Cuba - they play the same game

In Cuba - they play the same game

At sun drenched Junco beisbol stadium
amid a backdrop of palm trees
in this repeatedly self-proclaimed people's government
free of imperialismos,
the Cienfuegos Henequeneros battle
on the field against
the home town Havana Sugar Kings.
Cigar smoking fans, factory workers
and field hands mostly, sit under
straw hats while eyeing pretty muchachas
whose skin sweats from excitement.
These young women simmer
almost to the boiling point
waiting for an appearance
by the league's pitching star.
The Kings el premiero lanzadore de besbol,
Rudolpho Vascancellos. Rudi. ..Rudi ...Rudi
they stand and shout at Rudi...Rudi...Rudi
hoping he will acknowledge their passion
and pent-up desires. Rudi is a Cuban version
of Randy Johnson, or Roger Clemens, or Pedro Martinez.
When Rudi takes the mound, listening to shouts
of Poncholo-Poncholo-Poncholo echo from fans
demanding strike-outs, strike-outs, and more strike-outs.
Showing his superiority and machismo.
Handsome, light-skinned, his arms and legs whipping
with lean fluid motion as he fires pelotas past
stunned batters who with lesser throwers
rap out honrons or glide into second
with easy doubles. But with Rudi -
these les hombres hits merely swing
and miss. Swing and miss. And then sit
as if like everything else, toilet paper
or butter or free speech - hits were rationed.
Awed schoolboys, 'Young Pioneers' taught
and outfitted in political blue monochrome,
have stood in lines waiting for tickets
to stand in other lines waiting for seats,
holding beaten leather mitts waiting for
autographs from Rudi...Rudi...Rudi...
But first up, the visiting Henequeneros bateadors.
Hitting lead-off, a short very dark young man
whose family origins on this isle began shortly after
Columbus from the hold of a slave ship.
The hitter taps his cleats professional style
and steps into the batter's box.
Rudi delivers a fast ball shoe-top high.
The umpire who traces his pure blood
from the 15th century conqueror Diaz
smiles as he yells the strike.
The batter turns and glares.
In Cuba - they play the same game.