When Dodgers outfielder Andy Pages takes the field for the World Series against the Toronto Blue Jays, his family will not be in the stands. Instead, they will be just 90 miles away in his boyhood home of Mantua, Cuba, a distance made unbridgeable by 65 years of political tension between the two nations.
His parents and sister will likely follow the game on Cuban television, a spotty internet connection, or even by radio. Contact with Pages is limited to a few phone calls a week, often at the mercy of Cuba’s unreliable power grid. “There are times we can’t because the power is out or something,” Pages said. “Obviously it’s hard. But we’ve learned to live with it because we’ve been like this for a long time.”
This moment marks the pinnacle of an outstanding sophomore season for the 24-year-old. Pages hit 27 home runs, second only to Shohei Ohtani on the team, and ranked among the top four Dodgers in RBIs (86), batting average (.272), and stolen bases (14). He also became the first Dodgers center fielder in 13 years to hit over .250 with at least 23 homers.
Yet aside from his wife, Alondra, his family has only seen him play in a Dodgers uniform on screen. His success is the result of a difficult choice made nearly a decade ago. Growing up in the western province of Pinar del Rio, Pages played with bats fashioned from scrap lumber by his carpenter father. By age 15, he was a top prospect and arranged to leave the island with another young star, Jairo Pomares.
Their journey took them through Guyana, Curacao, and Haiti before they reached the Dominican Republic. There, Pages signed a $300,000 bonus with the Dodgers in 2018—a life-changing sum—but it came at a steep personal cost. Due to travel restrictions on Cuban citizens and defectors, he did not see his parents again for seven years, until a brief visit in the winter of 2023.
Pages’s situation is not unique. Dodgers infielder Miguel Rojas, a 12-year veteran from Venezuela, faces similar heartache. “It’s pretty tough,” said Rojas, whose father remains in Venezuela. “We signed up for this. We are professional baseball players. We want to kind of follow our dream, and I’m pretty sure his family’s dream was for [Pages] to play in the big leagues.” As he spoke of the separation, Rojas fought back tears.
The emotional toll is evident. After the team’s champagne-soaked celebrations this postseason, as teammates joined their families, Pages has often been seen lingering alone, once quietly raising a toast to those with him only in spirit.
“There are those days when you feel like crying, yes. Because you miss them,” Pages admitted. “But what you simply think afterward is that this is what it is. We have to keep going and we’re going to make them proud, right?”
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