Dream of young Cuban baseball prospects to play in U.S. still just that – Chicago Tribune

HAVANA — Chic sunglasses propped on his head, Lourdes Gourriel Jr. projected the stylish air Wednesday of someone who belongs either on the cover of GQ or inside a major-league clubhouse.

He looks ready for both.

At 22 and one of Cuba’s top young prospects, the thin, 6-foot-3 Gourriel confidently strutted around El Estadio Latinoamericano for the youth baseball clinic wearing designer jeans and a shirt that hardly screamed working class.

Gourriel’s family is considered baseball royalty here thanks to two brothers who play and a famous father, Lourdes Sr., who manages — think the Cuban version of the Boones or Alomars. As a result, the shortstop conducts himself with the grace of someone unfazed in this environment.

When old pal Alexei Ramirez hugged Gourriel, for example, he marveled at how much Gourriel had grown since the last time Ramirez saw the youngster before leaving Cuba in 2008 for the White Sox.

“He said, ‘Wow,’ ” Gourriel said, before stopping his interview to get the attention of Tigers slugger Miguel Cabrera, one of his idols.

Gourriel’s eyes widened like a young boy’s noticing Cabrera. He giggled.

Even a smooth operator like Gourriel had a hard time hiding his excitement over seeing major-league stars, which included four Cubans returning as part of a goodwill tour that brought an opportunity he only has dreamed about closer to reality.

“A lot of things have to happen, but I hope to one day be a part of this,” Gourriel said. “To get this close to living this dream is really emotional.”

Just how close is Gourriel, or any other potential Cuban star, to following the path of famous countrymen such as Jose Abreu or Yasiel Puig into the majors? How long before the number of Cuban-born players in major-league baseball jumps significantly from 28 in 2015, according to Baseball-Reference.com?

The first official MLB trip here in 16 years will raise hope and expectations of immediate changes in policy so players such as Abreu and Puig don’t have to risk their lives and defect for the promise of America. But chances are, because of political complexities, the 12-year-olds taking instruction from their heroes Wednesday are more likely to benefit from any softened restrictions than 22-year-olds such as Gourriel.

“I generally try to tell people that it’s going to be awhile before we really get significant progress,” said Dan Halem, MLB’s chief labor officer. “There was a willingness to speak to us and try to work out issues that have been lingering for decades. Whether that’s because of the change in U.S. policy or a shift in Cuba views, I don’t know. But there’s certainly a willingness on behalf of the Cuban Baseball Federation to speak to us regarding a system in which their players can play legally and return to Cuba.”

Currently, Cuban law permits baseball players to leave the country only to play in Europe and Asia — provided they return for the Cuban baseball season. But the government controls those contracts and it also receives a high percentage of the wages. Cuba’s baseball league, the Serie Nacionale, pays players a state-controlled monthly salary of between $40 and $200, according to Reuters. Abreu’s White Sox salary averages $11.3 million annually.

The astronomical economic disparity explains why players flee despite dangers seldom spoken of but ever present, a predicament MLB seeks to help everyone avoid. Halem discussed other issues related to Cuba’s role in an MLB international draft and the next collective bargaining agreement, but he made the sport’s primary long-term goal clear.

“We want a system in which we could sign Cuban players and they could come to the U.S. on a visa,” Halem said.

Noe Tortolo imagines being one of those players. Just 12, Tortolo was part of the Habaneros team that visited Chicago last summer, when he met Cubans Abreu and Ramirez as well as Jorge Soler of the Cubs. The trip, which marked the first Cuban youth team to compete in a U.S. tournament since 1948, exposed Tortolo to a world he never knew — one suddenly full of possibility.

“Chicago is a beautiful city and I love baseball in my heart,” said Tortolo, who was born in Argentina but moved to Cuba with his father, Noel, a baseball coach. “It is something I always think about.”

More significantly, it is something kids and parents now talk about as Cuban-American relations enter this strange, new phase. The dynamics intrigue Cuban filmmaker Alfredo Ureta, who accompanied the Habaneros to Chicago last summer and is producing a documentary about the metamorphosis.

“It’s about the changing relationship between the Cuban people and the United States, the future of Cuban baseball, the kids who are passionate about it and the new possibility that exists for the next generation,” said Ureta, who was wearing a White Sox hat to honor Abreu.

For the second straight day, Abreu basked in the glory of his return. He showed respect interacting with Cuban baseball legends such as home-run king Orestes Kindelan and pitcher Pedro Lazo in the stadium entryway, dominated by a painting of Fidel Castro holding a bat in his familiar olive-green military fatigues. He showed enthusiasm throwing popups to the kids and posing for hundreds of selfies, the contemporary autograph.

Abreu reported that his son, Dariel, enjoyed their reunion Tuesday after 28 months apart, and he even weighed in at the El Floridita restaurant on the Sox’s big trade for third baseman Todd Frazier.

“He’s a good player who can hit,” Abreu said in English, flashing the thumbs-up sign. “I love it.”

The future excites Abreu.

Around Cuban baseball diamonds this week, so many others feel the same way.

dhaugh@tribpub.com

Twitter @DavidHaugh