Cuba plays with the support of millions of fans. Photo: Roberto Morejon Rodriguez/Jit Author: Roberto Morejon Rodriguez/JIT

One after the other, and sometimes together, messages come in from friends and fans living in Miami who are gathering this Sunday at LoanDepot Park to support Team Asere. They live and suffer baseball as they do here, and now they go crazy with euphoria, because since that historic 2006 they have not felt their pressure at the limit.

“If the team wins, we will have a party,” one of them tells me. But they have already won, I answer. Making it to the semi-finals says a lot about these guys and whatever the result on Sunday, they should be rewarded for what they did. They have given hope back to a hobby that feels like its Cuban identity is multiplying from anywhere in the world.

The ball rolls and sister. There are many hands that come together on the same bat to hit home runs with our team. There are real and virtual ones, each with their own ideas, but all have their Motherland on their chests. “I’m Cuban, asere,” they say as proof, and that’s enough.

Those on the lame side go in search of a regular hit. They brag about defeats on the playing field and carry so much hatred within them that the bat weighs them down to swing on glory days. They are known before play the ballLosers again.

It’s not Sunday for these people. Accept the sign of Alexandre Abreu and the team that has gathered to compose the music for the team: “Córrete un tin pa allá/ Deja la cizaña/ Don’t upset my balance with your bad habit.”

Team Asere, the team of all those who love Cuba; imperfect but inspired; winner of ESPN poll for best nickname; who returned from outside in the middle of the third game of the group stage and jumped like Sotomayor before the kangaroo jump, he dreams of continuing to touch the clouds. And with it millions.

Source: Juventud Rebelde