by Brandon Merrill

Created on: November 04, 2009

STRIKE OUT FOR FREEDOM

May 5, 1999

The Miami Herald- Five Cuban baseball players have been reported missing after the Cuban National All star team's game versus the Baltimore Orioles Monday night in Baltimore. The Baltimore County Police Department is investigating a bomb threat called into the Sheraton Inner Harbor Hotel, where the team was staying.

It is suspected that a Miami based Cuban extremist group against the Castro regime may be involved in the threat as well as several other demonstrations that took place. The group is said to have been linked to the C.I.A in the 1960's during the United State's efforts to overthrow the Cuban government. "The group has been a freelance operation since the resolution of the missile crisis." says Miami detective Frank Rodriguez.

Some are speculating that the players defected in order to escape the communist island and pursue professional baseball careers in America.

Cuban officials are not commenting, however it is believe that ample security was provided by the Cuban government to prevent such occurrences. No players have yet to file for asylum.

March 25, 1999

It was a beautiful night in south Florida as Luis and I made our way up a busy Las Olas Boulevard. It was almost eleven o'clock on Friday, as we headed for the Porterhouse night club in Fort Lauderdale. The streets were flowing with beautiful women from all walks of life. We pass a couple girls who look like they could be cheerleaders for the Miami Dolphins.

"Damn," Luis says a few paces after they have passed, casually glancing back for a final look.

"Yeah, that's pretty amazing," I add as we continue walking.

"You think she's Cuban?," Luis asks and nods, referring to the approaching gift from God in high heels. Luis was born in Miami, though both of his parents are Cuban exiles.

I observe. "Nah, she's Venezuelan." "Whatever," he replies. I laugh. Porterhouse is now in sight and the music growing louder.

We notice little movement at the entrance door, sneak a peak, and decide to go elsewhere then maybe come back later.

We pass a hookah lounge as I point to an Irish Pub across the street. Luis nods approvingly.

I am twenty four years old, Luis twenty three. The doorman asks us both for our I.D. We walk to the bar, order Coronas.

There is an alternative band playing that sounds Irish. I think about the movie Boondock Saints. We move in for a closer look at the band.

I notice that I am less than well dressed. I slightly sag my over-worn jeans, and sport a wrinkled

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