A comment I got on what I wrote about baseball in Cuba:

"Exploitation and indentured servitude rules too. It must be really great to not be able to choose where you work while earning a meager living even though you have a talent that only a small percentage of your peers can boast. I guess "not wanting to play for a different [team]" means not wanting to risk your life by jumping on a raft in hopes of playing baseball here.
Who do you think gets the revenue from the baseball games played in Cuba? Shouldn't the lion's share go to the players? Every time I hear an argument about how MLB players are overpaid no one ever suggests a desired alternative. Terrible job."

Well, I was just talking about the baseball itself, although if we got into politics, I'm sure we'd disagree on that, too.

What's so bad about sitting in the tropics, watching baseball being played by non-millionaires who actually care as much about their team as the fans do? That's exactly what I think baseball should be.

It's kind of like Little League, only with adults.

I think, in general, that "being recognized" should not be synonymous with "being given cash." Especially when it involves a game. A game is supposed to be fun, and any time money is involved, it takes away the fun (as well as a lot of other important things, like integrity.) It's like people are always saying, "I'd play for free." Would you? I don't think you would. I'd play for free, AND I'd get a real job so I could have enough money to eat.

This is interesting, because exactly what I'm talking about is the reason why you see some Cubans risking their lives to come to the U.S. They're given the impression that the streets are paved with proverbial gold, when in reality, they may end up worse off here than there, because the "gold" is all owned by a little tiny percentage of rich white DICKS, who aren't about to give any of it up, especially to people who don't look like them.

But back to what I was saying, I agree that talent should be recognized. But when the recognition comes in the form of money that just goes in to that person's bank account, what good does that do?

Look, when I was a kid, of course I dreamed of going into one of those glass rooms, like on game shows, where dollar bills fly around and you try to grab as many as you can in a certain time frame. But I've come to realize that helping other people is way more important than just going through life with your sole objective being "to get money."

If I had a million dollars, could I go outside and play Wiffle Ball and have any more fun than I would if I were poor? No. Sure, I could buy a big grass lot and put a gate around it and play all the time, but again, I can do that now, only I don't need a gate, and I wouldn't want to keep others from enjoying that grass. (I know, that song "Signs"...) Hell, I could buy people and have them throw me meatballs all day. I could bat ALL the time! I could buy all the best players in the neighborhood and my team would always have a chance at winning while some teams in the Jere Millionaire League would never have a chance! Does this sound familiar?

To me, it's all about the fun. I even go to the casino every once in a while. I never come home in a limo, but that's not the point. It's just fun. In fact, I'd still love to go into one of those glass rooms, only now I wouldn't care if it was Monopoly money flying around! It just seems like a cool game! I gotta get me one of those. (I wonder if the fan device is included.)

You may ask why I care about Major League Baseball, then. Well, of all the traditions that Americans pass down from one generation to the next, the whole Red Sox thing is the last one I care about. It's true what they say about baseball being a link to your youth. You grow up, and your ideals change, and the game changes, but they're still the Boston Red Sox. And it's never going to get any easier to root for millionaries, but this has to hit a wall at some point. Until then, we can hope that baseball gets back to what it should be, while also enjoying the beauty and innocence of minor league ball, Little League games, stickball, nerf ball, dice-rolling leagues, and Atari "Home Run" baseball.

Here's what I'm talking about: "Baseball is virtually the only aspect of U.S. culture embraced by the Cuban Revolution, an enterprise based largely on resisting American imperialism." That's from this site, EricEnders.com. (A really good piece on baseball in Cuba.) That's kind of like me. I don't do all the typical "American" activities. I gave up meat. I never got into drinking or smoking. I'm not fond of capitalism. I don't wave the flag in blind support of the government. I never liked Dave Matthews. But there's something about baseball. It's a game I support despite the fact that it uses animal skins for the gloves and balls, for god's sake! Oh, and I don't believe in that dude either.

Here's another great paragraph from the same article (emphasis mine.)

"On a sunny Havana street, a few yards away from the crashing waves of the Caribbean, a dozen youngsters (picture, right) play a stickball game called cuatras esquinas (four corners). The ball is a rock wrapped in white medical tape, about half the size of a regulation baseball. The bat is a tree branch; there are no gloves. There’s also no baserunning – either you hit the ball over everyone’s head, or you’re out. If a car speeds by, play stops while the fielders scurry for the safety of the sidewalk. Such pickup games can be found on virtually every street corner in the island. This is where boys hone their batting skills in hope that they will eventually be chosen for one of the prestigious baseball academies, then maybe the National Series, and perhaps eventually, the Olympics. Most of them know they will never make it that far, but it doesn’t bother them. They are busy enjoying themselves, catching and running and hitting, with the sea breeze blowing through their hair and the afternoon sun warming their shoulders. What could be better?"

There are good and bad things about Cuba, just like here in the U.S. We could argue about that stuff all day. But if we're talking strictly baseball, well, I think they're the ones doing it right.

(You also asked where I think the revenue from games is going...what revenue? Up until recently, the games were free to get into, and now seats cost between four and twelve cents each. And there's no advertising.)