I'm Cuban, and baseball runs through my veins like blood.
Seeing this post reminded me of a glorious moment for my Cuban national team called Villa CLara
It was the 2013 Cuban National Baseball Series, Villa Clara vs. Matanzas.
But it wasn't just a game: it was a story filled with emotion, rivalry, and pride. And in the midst of all that, Ariel Pestano, our eternal "mask" of the Oranges, returned as a sort of living legend, in what would be his final season.
Víctor Mesa, then manager of Matanzas and who had managed the Villa Clara team for years, had had his share of disagreements with Pestano, both when he was his manager and later when he took over as manager of Matanzas.
In fact, he hadn't taken him to the previous World Baseball Classic, something that many felt was more personal than sporting. The rivalry between the two was palpable, even though neither shouted it out. But the fans knew it was there, simmering.
And then came that home run. But it wasn't just any home run, it was a grand slam, right in the baseball playoffs, and on top of that, the series was already 3-3, and this was the seventh game. In other words, it was a decisive and burying home run.
A precise swing, a blast that sailed all the way to left field at the Agusto Cesar Sandino Stadium. Pestano walked toward first base, looked at him as if to say, "Here I am," and walked the bases with the serenity of someone who knows he's making history. And as he stepped onto the plate, he made a brief, almost imperceptible gesture, but one laden with meaning. It wasn't just a home run. It was his response. It was his glorious farewell.
Villa Clara (my team) won the National Series after years without a championship. And Ariel Pestano bowed out in style, as true greats do: with honor, with character, and making it clear that heart isn't measured by statistics. He wasn't that great-average player, but there was no one behind the plate like him or who had the calm heart to hit the ball at the right moment. Unfortunately, Cuba was never able to make it to the MLB, but many MLB players spoke highly of Pestano.
That day was more than baseball; it was poetic justice.