By Dr. David Kilpatrick (For Part I click here)

“La amistad indispensable, de Cuba y los Estados Unidos, requiere la demostración continua por los cubanos de su capacidad de crear, de organizar, de combinarse, de entender la libertad y defenderla, de entrar en la lengua y hábitos del norte con más facilidad y rápidez que los del norte en las civilizaciones ajenas.”

– José Martí

THE PRESS CONFERENCE | Monday, June 1, 2015

Back at Meliá Cohiba, in a bit of a rush to clean up and change for the press conference, I began to process all I’d witnessed in an intense day of learning.  While I was beginning to feel connected to the Cuban people, caring especially for the youth players from the clinic at the sport university, I was feeling all the more disconnected from home, acutely aware of how technologized, perhaps overly civilized, I had become.  Wifi access was spotty and costly.  My phone was only useful only as a camera, time piece or for taking notes.  Cell phones are widely used in Cuba but like our credit cards, our phones would not work there.  This was a far different experience from the overseas travel I’m used to in Europe, where our technological interconnectedness allows me not only to talk to my wife and children at will, but also see their faces while I do it.  So I couldn’t help but wonder what had become of me as I ‘suffered’ email withdrawal, and began to worry that my wife and kids were worrying about me. 

Life in Cuba was a reminder of what life was like before being constantly connected.  And this of course facilitated making new connections.  But it also made me question how reliant I’ve become on this fragile world we have created in the digital epoch.  Perhaps, though written in the 19^th century, this is what Martí meant by how difficult it is for Northerners to enter or penetrate other cultures. The squalor I witnessed on the streets of Havana had left me saddened, humbled, and wanting to help while nonetheless wondering if I was the one truly helpless.  Disconnected from our wifi world, we were connected all the more to our cosmopolitan mission.  But if pity is the other side of contempt, what is the relationship between cosmopolitanism and colonialism or imperialism? 

To be cosmopolitan is to be a citizen of the world.  If one cannot yet speak and think like locals, the observance of custom can often begin with costume, for to live as locals live one must dress as locals dress.  NASL Commissioner Bill Peterson and I had joked, baking in the sun during the youth clinic at the sport university, about confusion over proper attire.  I had picked up a lovely, inexpensive guayabera shirt, with four pockets on the front, by the Cathedral in Habana Vieja.  The guayabera was legally decreed as formal wear in Cuba, our tour guide Elias had explained to me, suitable for ceremonies, weddings, diplomatic events, etc.  But that’s not how one dresses for a press conference, I thought, so I put on my more familiar suit and tie, appreciative of the air conditioning. 

Entering the press conference on the second floor of the hotel, passing through white curtains, I immediately felt overdressed.  Sure enough, the guayabera was the preferred look for locals, and I felt a bit of sore thumb if not a fish out of water.  The ubiquitous Mojito was available alongside coffee while servers carried trays of doughnuts for a snack, the treat helping to de-stress.  We were served Mojitos upon arrival at the hotel the night before, and I quickly acquired a taste for the Cuban cocktail, as refreshing as an iced lemonade.  I was glad when Bryan Alcantara joined me, and surprised this would be his first press conference.  We’ve become accustomed to massive press conferences in Cosmos Country, and it was fun to see our show on the road, the wall of media setting up their walls of cameras and testing microphones for this staged formal announcement of our arrival to help promote the main event, the match at Estadio Pedro Marrero against the Cuban National Team.  Bryan and I took seats in the back row, center, and waited for the show to start.

Fernando Fiore was our Master of Ceremonies, a role he performs with aplomb.  The master showman came with props, donning a Cuba baseball hat and then switching it to the Cosmos in Cuba hat we had all been given as we boarded the flight back at JFK.  The visual pun showed a shift of sporting concern from baseball to fútbol, generational perhaps in both our countries. 

Standing at the podium to our left, Fiore introduced, from left to right, the Commissioner of the Cuban Football Association, René Pérez, the new Head Coach of the Cuban National Team, Raúl González Triana, Current President of the Asociación de Fútbol de Cuba, Luis Hernandez, NASL Commissioner Bill Peterson, Cosmos Head Coach and Sporting Director Giovanni Savarese and Cosmos COO Erik Stover.

Looking forward to the match, Commissioner Pérez said of both the Cosmos and Cuban National Team: “Van a ganar el fútbol, el deporte y la hermandad entre los pueblos.” And it was this sense that soccer, especially among sports as the global game, could best cultivate this brotherhood between peoples, reviving the “indispensable friendship” between Cuba and the United States that the poet Martí had hailed back in the 19^th century.  A friendly in the purest sense, regardless of the result, both sides will have won once the game has been played.

Our polyglot sporting leader, Giovanni Savarese, spoke with a sincere blend of pride and humility – shifting back and forth between English and Spanish, capturing the heart of the occasion when he said: “Es emocionante estar aquí cuando se habla de que en tantos años un equipo estadounidense no ha venido acá. Creo que es un momento histórico, muy importante para el Cosmos. Y que el fútbol sea el deporte elegido para tener este evento tan lindo que va a unir a la gente.” 

Indeed, this was a most historic moment that was very important for our club, which goes beyond politics (or “ir más allá de la política” to use Savarese’s precise words), and it spoke to the power of soccer and connected with our longstanding cosmopolitan mission, for as Erik Stover noted, this trip to Cuba marked the 42^nd country visited by our club. 

Savarese strongly suggested this was not a one-off event.  “It definitely feels that it could be the beginning of something,” he said, especially as friendships were forming.  “More occasions like this can only help understanding and to unite people through sport.” 

But the start of what precisely?  Michael Lewis of Big Apple Soccer, New York Newsday and The Guardian asked Commissioner Peterson if the NASL had designs on a team in Havana, but while he has learned “never to say never” and “you never know,” the purpose of this visit was to simply start building relationships.  Erik Stover was more explicit, saying he envisions the eventual exchange of players, coaches and officials and, indeed, we had already seen the beginning of such efforts as our coaches and players worked with the youth players at the sport university as first-steps towards such interaction. 

Fiore handled questions from reporters, translating as needed between English and Spanish, and I marveled at his linguistic facility as well as his confident stage demeanor, his shtick even involving a selfie stick.  Born in Argentina, he’s become such a quintessential New Yorker, and I wonder how his hysterically ironic self-promotion played for Cubans.  When some reporters tried to steer the conversation towards the FIFA crisis, Fiore discreetly kept the focus on the reason we were in the room, and what this match means in terms of the positive potential for social change afforded by the global game. 

As it seemed the questions had been asked and answers given as best as possible, noise from the back of the room signaled the arrival of Raúl and Pelé, who approached the dais, a dynamic duo of Cosmos past and present taking over the stage.  Having spent too much time worrying about how I dressed, it was nice to see Pelé wearing the green t-shirt we had all been given as we boarded the plane back in New York.  Being the King, he can wear what he wants!  And it was cool to see him embrace the trip as one of us, dressed like a fan.

Reminded by the occasion of the famous 48-hour ceasefire between federal and rebel troops in Nigeria when he visited for a friendly with Santos in 1967, Pelé proudly proclaimed: “Taking part of this friendly match, between Cuba and the U.S., even though I’m Brazilian, it’s such a joy. I thank God for once more giving me the opportunity to be part of a moment of peace.”

Pressed for a soundbite on the FIFA crisis, our Honorary President simply replied, reminding everyone of the occasion: “Football brings people together.  This is most important.”

Raúl echoed his friend’s sentiment, underscoring the meaning of this cosmopolitan mission he has embraced with the Cosmos: “I hope this match will be one more step toward much better relations.” 

Struck by the enthusiasm and knowledge of the throngs of los fanáticos del fútbol in Cuba, the Spanish goal scoring legend was deeply moved by the warm welcome.  It was proof of the growing passion for the game in a country famed for baseball and boxing. 

Asked his opinion of Cuban soccer, Pelé noted the state of soccer in the United States when he joined the Cosmos and how quickly the U.S. Men’s National Team program has developed into a program that expects to appear in FIFA World Cup Finals.  Pelé predicted the same for the Cuban National Team: “It is the same as any place where they play football.  A long time ago, the United States started to play football.  And then a few years ago, the United States almost qualified for the World Cup, no?  And then I think the fútbol in Cuba, it is about to be the same.  The same is about to happen in Venezuela.  The same is about to happen in Colombia.  Because the fútbol is global and has become very strong. And then they have more experiences, when they play abroad.  I think Cuba, very soon, will have a team in the World Cup, no doubt.”

The Cosmos legends were then joined at the dais by the captain of the Cuban National Team, Yénier Márquez.  As he crossed the stage to take his seat, the thrill on his face was radiant.  His joy was infectious.  He marveled at the moment and when he reached out to shake the hand of Pelé, their hands were joined with that of Raúl.  This spontaneous gesture of solidarity proved powerfully symbolic.  The New York Cosmos past and present joined with the present Cuban National Team in sporting terms.  But so much more.  As if the United States and Cuba coming together weren’t enough, Spain and Brazil joined the international mix in a truly cosmopolitan handshake. 

Cuban President Raúl Castro and President Obama shook hands in Panama City just a month ago.  Secretary of State John Kerry had just removed Cuba from the list of state sponsors of terrorism the week prior.  This was a more than just a dream come true.  It was beyond our wildest dreams, and that was evident on the smiling faces of Márquez, Pelé, Raúl and surely every other person in the room.  Along with the political present, this moment resonated all the more having witnessed the postcolonial aftermath of Spanish imperialism first-hand on the streets of Havana.  The former captain of Spain shaking hands with the current captain of Cuba, representing teams from the United States and Cuba, signifies sport transcending the political, overcoming history.

A NIGHT IN HAVANA | Monday, June 1, 2015

Our itinerary had us scheduled to attend a poolside party after the press conference, noting a “Caribbean casual - no shorts” attire requirement.  Brian Walsh of the Cosmos Training and Development Program had been pondering what that meant since we received the schedule in advance of our flight.  What clothes should or could we pack for that?  Following the fashion at the press conference, I went to my room and swapped out of the sport coat, oxford and tie for the guayabera I’d bought in the morning.  Unable to haggle down from $20 CUC, the Scots in me was appeased seeing one comparable for $50 CUC in the hotel shop by the lobby.  So I thought I’d got a good deal and would be far more comfortable while avoiding being either overdressed in a suit or looking like a tourist at Disney World, the only two options I’d packed.  My look gave a laugh to all who know me, especially Brian, whom I’ve known for forever now.  He felt dizzy from the heat back at the Museo del Ron, so I was relieved to see him safe and back in action. 

After another quick Mojito, I switched to my new favorite beverage of choice, Cristal, the local lager.  Hand-rolled cigars were available, rolled on the spot as you watched.  With the option to smoke now or save it for later, I opted to light up.  As I posed for one of the silliest photos I think has ever been taken of me – guayabera clad with cigar in mouth, Cristal in hand – Brian’s wife brought the giggles to guffaws, saying “Oh, Lisa’s gonna love this,” as the photo was taken, referring to my wife back home in New York. 

“Well, when in Cuba,” I said. 

I recognized Yénier Márquez, Raúl González Triana, and Luis Hernandez from the press conference and approached the Cuban trio and was relieved to be warmly greeted.  I shouldn’t be surprised by such a welcome as that’s all we had received everywhere we went, but as rapt in conversation as they were, I didn’t want to intrude but also wanted to take the opportunity to say hello and express gratitude for this opportunity to visit their beautiful country.  Asking Hernandez, “You played in that famous 0-0 against Poland at the ’76 Olympics, right?” launched him into a wonderful reminiscence of playing the No. 10 role in that famous match.  I love engaging former footballers and listening to them represent their remembrances.  Like the former Cosmos players whose friendships I cherish, Hernandez was excited and proud remembering his playing days. 

Having witnessed the match between the Cuban National Team and the Chicago Sting in Havana back in 1978 as a spectator, Hernandez asked me what’s become of the Sting.  I explained how the NASL ceased operations after the 1984 season but with the revival of the rivalries between the Cosmos, Tampa Bay Rowdies and Ft. Lauderdale Strikers, there’s been a recent upsurge of interest in Chicago to bring back the Sting.  We discussed the league structures in the United States and I expressed my interest in learning more about their domestic league. 

Any talk of NASL expansion in Cuba is not only premature but disrespectful.  The ten clubs already competing in Cuba’s league need to be strengthened and we were there to learn more about them, not to exploit them.  Márquez took a photo of Hernandez and I, and the party conversation drifted into other constellations.

As the sun began to set, Cosmos Vice Chairman Jeremy Wilkins informed me it was time to depart for a staff dinner, and we boarded a bus.  I had felt a bit bad not to have a photo with Yénier Márquez and Raúl González Triana, my conversation with them really more of a dialogue with Luis Hernandez, but we smiled at each other out front of the hotel by the bus and I got a photo with the Cuba’s captain and head coach.  I felt incredibly blessed to have met such fascinating figures, who bravely battle overwhelming odds for their country and the game we love. 

Dinner was at Río Mar on the outskirts of Miramar, Havana, in close proximity to the Russian Embassy.  An elegant “paladar,” a private restaurant like the place where many of us had gathered for lunch, La Moneda Cubana, and once again Cuban cuisine proved to be as remarkable as rumored.  Lobster for lunch so lamb for dinner, but judging by others’ plates, one couldn’t make a bad choice.  Another Mojito start, followed by flowing wine (though I switched back to my now-favored Cristal lager), the opportunity to dine with Havana city lights sparkling on the water along with fellow Cosmos staff, although away from my wife, son and daughter, the meal had the feel of a family gathering.  I was especially delighted to hear Cosmos Director of Marketing, Rafael Morffi, talk about visiting his ancestral homeland for the first time, his mother and father having left Cuba before his birth and met in New York.  He had arrived days before the rest of us to prepare and made many Cuban friends during his brief time in a country he could finally enjoy.  His stories of spending time in peoples’ humble homes, bartering for goods and services will be told to his children’s children, I thought, as the full impact of what our trip means for the Cuban exile community was evident in the pride and joy on Rafael’s face. 

Around midnight, we returned to Hotel Melia Cohiba to find the bar hopping.  I relit my hand-rolled cigar and suddenly found myself beside New York Knicks star Carmelo Anthony, who was along with us on this journey and would soon announce his hand in the NASL’s newest club, Puerto Rico FC. 

“You know, the reason I couldn’t get one of these is because they opened that shop especially for you last night,” I joked. 

“Really?” he replied, surprised. “Well, you’ve got yours now, so enjoy!”

Carmelo’s definitely mellow, and he was – like everyone else in our touring party – simply thrilled to be having fun in a land that’s for so long seemed like forbidden fruit.  I took the opportunity to thank him for the beautifully phrased statement with which he announced his intention to remain with the Knicks last summer, how much it meant to me as a New Yorker and a Knicks fan.  Although I wouldn’t say it to him at the hotel bar, his chill composure made me all the more of a fan.  I’ll cheer even louder next time I’m at the Garden.  But this trip was all about soccer, and that was what united us, our shared love for the Beautiful Game.  

I settled down on a couch as small groups formed all around the bar, but Jeremy Wilkins came over to have me meet two gentlemen from Australia at the bar.  Traveling supporters of their national cricket side, they were enjoying a one-night layover in Havana on their way to a test match in the West Indies. 

“I remember partying with Aussie cricket fans when I was living in Bayswater in 1994-95,” I said.

Fuzzy memories of that Ashes series got us chatting away and we bonded over love for Lord’s cricket ground in London.  My mini-lecture on the Cosmos’ October 1979 tour of Australia might have been more than they bargained for, but they listened patiently and remembered faintly.  I explained the poster for the Sydney match promoting “New York Cosmos Once in a Lifetime Soccer” was an inspiration for the title of the documentary film that helped trigger our reboot.  Here we were in Havana, the club once again furthering its cosmopolitan mission and promoting the Beautiful Game.  Being primarily cricket and rugby fans, they didn’t attend the friendlies in Melbourne, Sydney or Adelaide, but remembered the hubbub. 

When I asked where they were from, they said Newcastle, which prompted my outburst of “Newcastle Jets!”  They seemed incredulous I would know of their local soccer side, but I explained A-League matches were regularly screened in the States.  Although soccer wasn’t really their thing, they made a half-hearted effort to encourage Jeremy to invest in the Jets (just the past week thrown into an uncertain transitional state).

While Carmelo and his posse chilled in the back booth, our wannabe five-a-side squad from the deserted stadium by the sea signed Brian Walsh, and we puffed cigars until we were sick in the wee hours.  Havana Club rum had become the popular drink choice but I’d become a Cristal loyalist.  The decadent ghost of Meyer Lansky haunts the Havana night, no shortage of temptations available to those with a conscience on pause.  Proud to represent our club and our country, none in our party succumbed to such vices (that I know of).  Instead, as we laughed at strangers drinking themselves toward regret-filled hangovers, our after hours talk to off-the-record stories of Cosmos alums and their adventures during the debauched disco era and the scene cultivated by Ahmet Ertegün while President of both Atlantic Records and the Cosmos. 

We probably spent hours on the rumored proclivities of rock stars, and the last conversation thread I recall began with a question from Greg Blanco: “What’s your fantasy concert?”  This veered from impossibly anachronistic shows we wish we could see to amazing shows we had seen.  Brian and I couldn’t stop raving about Oasis at the Garden, some of us disagreed on the quality of The Police reunion show at Jones Beach (I loved it, nice and loud), but even the rock-n-roll talk came back around to the Cosmos.  Just for the record, and just in case I didn’t state my case in coherent fashion, since the greatness of the Beatles and the Stones take them out of any reasonable debate, I’d most want to see the classic lineups of Yes, Genesis and Led Zeppelin, all three bands closely attached to Ertegün and Atlantic, so with links to the Cosmos in their heyday. 

Knowing that Rolling Stone flew Gabe Oppenheim down with us to cover our adventure added to our sense of rock star fantasy, though we wondered where the media were, not having seen them since the flight touched down, save the press conference.  Were they holed away upstairs in their rooms, nervously typing away to beat deadlines and sweating out weak wifi, or off indulging seeking inspiration for gonzo journalistic coverage?  Some literati following in the footsteps of Hemingway, others filled with fear and loathing on a Hunter S. Thompson trip.  Well into the Havana night, feeling the tobacco, Mojitos and Cristals, I felt a little like a character out of Kerouac, angel-headed and desperate to burn a little brighter now. 

But sometime around 3:30 a.m. I had to call it a night.  A few hours later I was up, determined to wish my wife and kids a wonderful day with the live sound of my voice.  Calling the United States from Cuba proved curious.  Skype simply wasn’t possible.  So I entered a phone booth by the lobby, dialed 88+ our home number, and waited for what seemed like a few minutes of dead silence on the line before the phone rang.  I had tried the night before and only reached voicemail.  When I left the booth a woman behind the desk told me I would need to pay.  I didn’t get to speak with anyone so thought it would be inexpensive. 

“No sir, a voice was on the other line and you spoke to that voice,” she explained. 

“It was an answering machine.”

“Your voice and another voice.”

I paid what I was told to pay.  Anyway, the morning call was likely my biggest single expense on the island but was well worth it, a wonderful way to start the big gameday.

Sure no one else was up yet, I went back upstairs and tried to rest.  It was raining. Heavily.  Surely the weather must break by kickoff, I thought and prayed. 

MORNING WITH MARTÍ | Tuesday, June 2, 2015

Although a trip to the market was scheduled by Havanatur, instead I jumped in a taxi and headed up to the Plaza de la Revolución, joined by Bryan Alcantara, making a pilgrimage to the Martí memorial.  On our ride from the airport, Elias the tour guide spoke of Martí’s seminal role in Cuban culture.  One simple bit of culture shock in Cuba might be the absence of advertising.  It simply doesn’t exist.  In its place, one sees here and there billboards with revolutionary propaganda.  My expectation for such imagery was glorification of Fidel Castro and/or his brother Raúl.  I saw no signs of this.  The occasional inspirational quote from Fidel could be found but more often than not, slogans were attributed to the poet-martyr Martí. 

Numerous statues of Martí dot the Havana landscape, like the anachronistic statue of the poet holding Elián González along the Malecón to the marble image of the martyr at the heart of Parque Central.  Surrounded by 28 palm trees (to commemorate his January 28^th birthday) on the 10^th anniversary of his death in 1905, the first of thousands erected around the country.  It was clear that if we were to move towards a better understanding of the Cuban people, it would have to begin with Martí.

Memorial José Martí towers over the Havana landscape, a 358-feet-tall, five-pointed star grey marble structure easily discernible from my hotel window; the tallest structure in Havana made all the more high perched on a hill in the Vedado neighborhood. 

Built pre-Castro by the Batista regime in an effort to appeal to the masses, the interior houses a fascinating museum dedicated to Martí’s life and ideas and their influence.  Bryan and I were struck by the crucial role New York played in the revolutionary poet’s life, where he became a leader in the Cuban exile community and was inspired by the words of Walt Whitman and the ideas of Abraham Lincoln.  The green marble interior served as a mural with phrases and aphorisms of Martí encrusted with gold.  Their appeals to defeat demography and overcome oppression brought an entirely different perspective on the Revolution.  Racism seemed a thing of the past in Cuba, while evident poverty and gender inequality we had witnessed made it clear the aims of the Revolution, fueled as there are by the prophetic utterances of the poet the Cuban people simply call their Teacher and their Father, remain unfulfilled.

Fortunate for the fluency of Bryan and filled with the sophomoric skill acquired from two years of high school and three semesters of college Spanish, there seemed no need for a tour guide at the Memorial, but we agreed to have the English-speaking Jovanca explain the space to us.  This proved a most educational experience as we learned so much from her about what Martí means to Cubans of all ideologies.  Jovanca apologized that the elevator that allowed visitors to the peak of the tower has been out of service for a year now.  Bryan and I weren’t bothered by the prospect of climbing the stairs. We wanted to experience the view from the top. As we left the memorial and exited into the rain-drenched empty plaza, we imagined the massive crowds that have assembled there in protest or celebration. 

Dropped off by taxi, we found a ride back to the hotel slightly problematic.  There were no cars on the taxi stand and, as Bryan had learned, taxis from out other neighborhoods passing through were forbidden to take business from the neighborhood taxis.  Along with a policeman ignoring us was a guy with what looked like a bici-taxi, three wheels beneath a yellow egg-shaped half-shell with two seats behind the driver.  It wasn’t so much the exposure to the rain that worried us.  We didn’t want anyone to have to pedal us back, and had heard foreigners weren’t allowed to ride bici-taxis, anyway.  But after a while we realized this wasn’t a bici-taxi. It was motorized with a moped engine, an auto-rickshaw known as a cocotaxi, since the shell resembles a coconut as much as an egg. 

Rain splattering us lightly, we laughed our way down Prado back to Hotel Meliá Cohiba. Time to change into Cosmos green and wait to board the bus for Estadio Pedro Marrero.

Part III, featuring the match and the aftermath, coming soon.