The Chris Moeller Archives

Such comments, really as tame as can be-- more an expression of marvel than support, required Guillen to leave his team Tuesday in Philadelphia, fly to Miami, and deliver a public apology in a bid to save his job. A group of radical right-wing Cuban dissidents living in the community say they still plan to stage public protests at the ballpark until Guillen is fired. So what has transpired here? Basically, Guillen expressed what most observers the world over have privately thought to themselves a hundred times-- that it's absolutely amazing to consider that a Communist militarist has remained in power for over half a century-- spanning 11 U.S. presidencies-- in a country that rests only 90 miles away from Key West, Florida. Tell the truth just a little: this feat of political and military strength by Cuba's El Comandante doesn't impress you also?

Ozzie Guillen is not a revolutionary. He is not Tommie Smith or John Carlos in cleats. He is not even a sophisticated political thinker. He's a guy who talks a lot without a filter. I am quite sure that, if asked, Castro's choice for an American spokesman would be somebody else. The long-time field manager, and before that, long-time shortstop, who just relocated to Miami this year from the South Side of Chicago, has been alternately critical and complimentary of Hugo Chavez, the democratically-elected president of Guillen's native Venezuela, and Castro's strongest public ally among world leaders. Guillen criticized Sean Penn for meeting publicly with Chavez, sneeringly inviting the activist-actor to move to Venezuela for a year and "see how long you last." Yet when his Chicago White Sox won the 2005 World Series, Guillen shouted "Viva Chavez!" for all to hear during the televised celebration. On Tuesday, he promised the assembled reporters at his news conference that he would now stop talking politics altogether. A few minutes later, he announced that he "would rather be dead than vote for Hugo Chavez."

In Havana, they've been having a lot of fun with this story: a pro-government website suggested that the Miami community had become a "banana republic" in which unpopular opinions were censored. Hmm, hard allegation to dispute all things considered.

Guillen is not really the story here. He is subtext. There are public figures out there-- increasingly rare, though Guillen is one of them-- who simply say what's on their mind, and then consider the personal and economic repercussions of their words at some later point. During this interview, Guillen temporarily forgot that he works for a baffoonish specimen named Jeffrey Loria, who single-handedly destroyed baseball in Montreal, followed that with a commissioner-approved coup upon a second National League franchise half a continent away in Florida, then fleeced taxpayers in that locale for a $2 billion stadium that opened for business only one day before Guillen's comments about Castro hit newsstands. Add to that the fact that, in Florida, there is a large section of the adult population that lives for the very purpose of showing how much they love their freedom by punishing their fellow citizens for their contrary political pronouncements-- one-time wealthy landowners from the island, who want their ancestral land back so they can recolonize it in the spirit of Fulgencio Batista.

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If Guillen only gets fired, he might have to consider himself lucky. Salon's Jefferson Morley chronicles the history of violence employed by shadowy anti-Castro figures in South Florida. The journalist surprisingly leaves out the part where the American government attempts to assassinate the Cuban leader.

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Remember when the Baltimore Orioles went to Havana in 1999 to compete against a Cuban All-Star team, and Orioles president Peter Angelos and Commissioner Bud Selig sat next to Fidel Castro enjoying the competition? There's nothing else. I was just curious if anyone remembered that.