The Cuban Coach

Rigoberto Betancourt's life in baseball takes a seventh-inning stretch

Comments (0) By Lissette Corsa Thursday, Aug 30 2001

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Among Betancourt's many dreams is to open a baseball academy. He's even registered a corporation called Betancourt Academy. "At least I'm not unloading car parts at a warehouse like before," Betancourt says with relief. "It was back-breaking work." But Betancourt would have kept at it if he hadn't been laid off. "I don't have the luxury of quitting a job."

Having a baseball academy would be nice, but that's just one of many possibilities. Betancourt still has his eyes on the major leagues. Eight months ago, he says, he spoke to Adrian Hernandez via telephone while the pitcher for the Columbus Clippers (the Yankees' triple A team) trained in Tampa. Betancourt offered to correct some errors in his lanzamiento. Of course Hernandez, who defected last year, declined his former coach's overtures, citing his contract with the Yankees.

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Betancourt actually introduced Hernandez to baseball in Cuba. "At the age of ten he came into the baseball academy where I was teaching in Havana, barefoot and hungry. I noticed he had potential, and eventually he made it to the national series, playing for Los Industriales[one of Cuba's national teams]." But, according to a slightly bitter-sounding Betancourt, Hernandez never made Equipo Cuba. "He was always among the ten on reserve," Rigo says. "He's just not an intelligent pitcher. He has quality but no brain. Yet look where he's at now, pitching for the Yankees. Un negro que era un muerto de hambre en Cuba, pa' que tu vea." (A black man who was dying of hunger in Cuba and look at him now.)

Orlando "El Duque" Hernandez, Betancourt claims, has indicated he would like his former coach to evaluate his pitching. Betancourt and Hernandez met on a baseball field in Tamiami Park about five months ago. "We talked for about twenty minutes," Betancourt recalls. "I suggested he let me correct his curve ball. He said “Coño, Rigo,that's what I need.' I want to help them both," Betancourt says. "When they're not under contract. I wouldn't even charge them any money. Just training them would be good publicity for me. Prefiero que se corra la bola que tener cuatro pesos en el bolsillo." (I prefer getting the word out than having a few dollars in my pocket.)

Working odd jobs is not what Betancourt had in mind when he decided to defect.

During his first few weeks in America, Betancourt happily rode the media wave that had splashed his story over front pages and prime-time news. According to Rigo, sports agent Joe Cubas, who has identified himself with Cuban defectors, had gone out of his way to meet him, and offered him the possibility of coaching for the Boston Red Sox.

He was interviewed by Telemundo's WSCV-TV (Channel 51) and CBS's Telenoticias. Betancourt was even a topic of discussion on National Public Radio's Talk of the Nation. TV reporters, mostly from Miami, portrayed his defection in a political light. Betancourt's decision, some members of the media suggested, was symbolic of discontent brewing beneath the superficial goodwill surrounding the Cuban vs. U.S. baseball series.

Once the spotlight dimmed, however, Betancourt was forced to face the harsh reality of his exile life. He was alone. His media friends were on to a new trend: "Looking back, I haven't received help from anybody," he complains. "Here, the only thing that interests people is money and politics. And like an idiot, I believed everything promised me was true." Like Joe Cubas, for example.

Cubas and Betancourt met for the first time on May 7, 1999, at the WSCV-TV (Channel 51) news station, just a day after Rigo had arrived in Miami from Baltimore. TV cameras welcomed Betancourt at MIA like fields of metal poppies. At the station, according to Rigo, Cubas shook his hand, hugged him, practically proposed marriage. "He told me the Cuban community would receive me with open arms. At that moment I felt very happy."

A week later, thanks to Cubas, Boston Red Sox officials were interviewing Betancourt in Tampa for a job coaching minor leaguers at the RS camp in Fort Myers. On May 24 the team organization flew him to Fort Myers for a second interview. Rigo had dinner with fifteen Red Sox officials, including director of player development Kent Qualls, who, according to Betancourt, said he had a job once he got his U.S. work permit.

Cubas wasn't present at either interview. Within a few weeks of the last meeting with the Red Sox, conducted with the help of an interpreter, since Betancourt speaks no English, phone calls from Cubas suddenly stopped, and his own calls to the agent began to go unanswered. Betancourt says when he last spoke to Qualls, the coaching job had been filled. According to Betancourt, Cubas had promised help in speeding up the red tape surrounding the issuance of a U.S. work permit, but hadn't made much of an effort. After the deal fell through -- ostensibly because of the work-permit issue -- Betancourt couldn't get Cubas on the phone, though he'd been relentlessly present when Rigo was in the middle of the media swirl. It seemed as if Cubas had just signed on for the publicity, and when that waned, he didn't want to know "a loser."