Livan Hernandez: from poverty to freedom … and a major league career: Cuban hurler escaped his native land, eventually becoming a veteran star with the Washington Nationals pitching staff

Baseball Digest, Nov, 2005 by Bruce Wells

THE WORD "ENDURANCE" ISN'T the first thing that comes to mind when looking at the rather rotund physique of Livan Hernandez. At 6-2 and 245 pounds, Hernandez is a little tough for people to get their arms around, but make no mistake, over the past seven seasons, there hasn't been a more durable pitcher in baseball.

Since 1998, he's been in the N.L.'s top 10 in both complete games and innings pitched and he led the National League each of the last two years in innings (255 and 233.1) and complete games (nine and eight). Those 17 complete games are more than any other N.L. team has had during that span.

"Livan is from the old school," said Nationals manager Frank Robinson. "I guess it was the way he was conditioned when he was a kid in Cuba. But when he takes the ball, his mind-set is: When the game's over, that's when his job is finished. He doesn't go out there saying, 'Well, if I give the club seven good innings, I've done my job.' Even when I go out to get the ball in the eighth or ninth inning from him, he doesn't want to give it up."

The 30-year-old Hernandez, also was pretty darned good those two years, posting a combined 3.41 ERA, ninth in the league. Given that, the three-year, $21 million contract extension he signed with Montreal last year has become one of baseball's bargains.

Hernandez's game is finesse rather than power. His fastball tops out in the high 80s and he throws that and a slow curve, slider, and changeup with the same smooth motion. Like most finesse-type pitchers, he needs to throw inside to be effective and he doesn't have much of a margin for error. If his pitches wander towards the middle part of the plate, look out!

"He's not the kind of guy who lights you up," one N.L. advance scout said. "But you can't argue with the results. If you're looking for durability, I'm not sure there's anyone better right now." Indeed.

In 2004, he threw 3,926 pitches, the most in the National League by over 200. His 35 starts also topped the N.L.

This year--despite a chronically sore knee--the right-hander was 14-6 in his first 28 starts through August 28 with a 3.87 earned-run average and one complete. His 193 innings pitched led the National League and he was on pace for the first 20-win season of his career.

While Hernandez is clearly the ace of the Washington pitching staff, the mere mention of the word "ace" makes Hernandez shrug his shoulders and change the subject. "I enjoy playing baseball, I enjoy being a pitcher," said Hernandez. "I enjoy playing for this team in this city. It's an amazing city. People call your name on the street and people are going crazy for this team. I like that very much."

He will tell you, that despite the knee, he feels great, and he smiled when asked about the impressive durability of his right arm. "I used to throw a lot of rocks at mangoes in Cuba to knock them out of the trees," he explained with his seemingly ear-to-ear smile.

Several teammates overhear Hernandez explaining his "mango story" and they laugh out loud, much to his delight.

"You need to have fun Chico," said Hernandez in somewhat broken but clearly understandable English. "You need laughing."

Laughter wasn't always a part of the now fun loving Hernandez's life before he defected from Cuba in 1995, a courageous but scared teenager.

In Cuba, Hernandez, then 19, was making $6 a month, and he was so poor he only had one shirt to play in. His mother washed it for him by hand every night. In order to supplement his meager income as an official athlete, Hernandez took advantage of the Cuban government team's foreign trips to buy merchandise for resale in Cuba. On one trip to Mexico, he bought $100 worth of women's underwear, which he sold for $200 back home. It was a considerable profit by the island's standards.

"Everybody is poor in Cuba, nobody is rich like they are here," said Hernandez. "I'm not going to say I was living bad, I always thought I was living good and had a good life just not like here. My mommy, she worked hard to take care of us. You don't need to forget where you're coming from, it's something important. The place you come from, the way your room taught you everything, you don't forget that. Because, if you forget, you're going to change. And if you don't go the right way your mommy taught you, your life will change. And I never want to do that."

Hernandez first started planning to defect to the U.S. in 1994, in Venezuela. Recruiter Joe Cubas saw him play, liked what he saw, and secretly established contact with the young player. They agreed Hernandez would make his break for freedom in Mexico, in September, 1995.

His first step toward freedom would almost cost Hernandez his life when he was almost run over by a speeding car.

The escape took place in Monterrey, where Cubas sent a young girl to ask for Hernandez's autograph at the baseball field. Inside the autograph book was a picture of Cubas and the phone number of his hotel. At midnight, Hernandez called Cubas and told him he was ready. Cubas drove to the motel where the Cuban team was staying and waited in his car nearby. Hernandez came out somewhat hesitantly. Then Cubas turned his lights on and off to signal the frightened ball player.