Normalizing USA-Cuba relations in an abnormal place, through wrestling

Thursday night, a team of wrestlers from Cuba wrestled a team of wrestlers from America in the most American, least Cuban place America has to offer: Times Square.

The Cubans were here for a pretty good reason. This is the annual blowout of Beat The Streets NY, a charity providing wrestling resources to New York youth. Each year, the organization hosts a wrestling exhibition in a notable New York location. Last year, it raised $1.5 million in a matchup between the U.S. national team and "World All-Stars." In 2013, Americans wrestled Iranians and Russians in Grand Central Station. In 2010, matches were held on the deck of the USS Intrepid.

This very good organization needs an "other" to stand in so wrestling fans can get to see America's best face off against somebody else's best. Cuba was a nice fit. Like any good Communist nation, Cuba doesn't need to worry about which sports will earn the most money on the free market, and instead pours government resources into Olympic sports to maximize medal-winning opportunities at international competitions. Cuba gets most of its medals from fighting sports -- at the London Olympics in 2012, 10 of Cuba's 14 medals came from boxing, judo, wrestling and taekwondo.

And of course, Cuba and America are trying to be friends now. President Obama is loosening the restrictions the United States has placed on Cuba since Fidel Castro took over five decades ago. And there's no better way to be friends than sports! Now that travel restrictions are easier between these countries -- a Cuban team official reports the visa process only took a day -- the Cuban team will happily make a trip to help out kids.

So Cuba's national wrestling team is here in Times Square, and it's a very strange fit. Times Square and Havana are polar opposites. This is the crossroads of capitalism; Havana, a last stronghold of communism.

Here, bright, flashing video boards change by the second to reflect the most new thing that will make you spend money instantly. One Coke ad features a tribute to David Letterman's last show that will be irrelevant tomorrow; a Beats ad promises an exclusive new video by Troy Ave, a rapper who may not be relevant when the Toshiba-branded ball drops here.

There, buying things is extremely difficult, so people spend their lives making old things work. You've seen plenty of 1950s cars in photos, but have you ever thought about the resourcefulness required to make a 60-year-old car function without access to auto parts?

There is a news ticker at 1 Times Square. When it was first put in place in 1928, it was the height of technology. You now barely notice the ticker amidst the blinding array of screens, lights, enormous billboards and adults dressed as cartoon characters. The ticker remains, but more out of a sense of obligation to keep the iconic sign alive than because of the content.

There was a news ticker in Havana. In 2006, the United States' unofficial embassy mounted an electronic billboard, much like the one in Times Square, on the side of the building. It displayed subversive messages: news which would never be available from the state-run media, like stories about Cuban refugee Jose Contreras' MLB success or a report that Fidel Castro was extravagantly wealthy. The Cuban government responded by erecting competing billboards, like this faux-movie poster calling Bush an assassin. And they built 138 60-foot-tall flagpoles flying black flags directly in front of the ticker, all but obscuring it to passersbys. The Americans took down the billboard in 2009, since nobody could read it anyway.

In Times Square, a news ticker is an afterthought, an impossible tree to notice in a fascinating forest. In Havana, it was so noteworthy, drastic steps were taken to keep anybody from noticing.

I went in preemptively feeling bad for these Cuban wrestlers, just trying to compete, dropped into an intensely foreign place. I was worried the atmosphere would be a bit like a scene out of Rocky IV. The Americans going crazy for the Americans in a very American place, the Cubans filling in as the evil opponent from some other place that we don't like and boo.

Sure, there was some awkward cultural appropriation: The event's MC carried a cigar, kept yelling "VIVA" because apparently it was the only Spanish word he knew, and introduced the Cuban team by asking fans if they liked cigars and mojitos. For some reason, a guy with timbales showed up and played for 45 seconds.

But mainly, this was about wrestling, with a side of welcoming. The PA announcer garbled a heavily accented "bienvenidos a Nueva York." The fans didn't boo, they chanted "USA" from time to time. Wrestling people were just impressed to see other good wrestling people.

For what it's worth, the United States handily beat Cuba on the wrestling side of things. A few Cuban wrestlers outclassed their American opponents -- Yowlys Bonne Rodriguez and Reineris Salas Perez, each ranked third in the world, got wins -- but America came out on top overall, 9-4.

Olympic gold medalist Jordan Burroughs wrestled last. Up nine points with a 10-point mercy rule in effect, he showed none, going for the kill and pinning his opponent to end the night.

The speakers blared mainly peppy sounding rap and pop. At one point, the music guy even deigned to put on "Blank Space" by Taylor Swift, getting through almost a whole verse before somebody presumably punched him in the arm and said "HEY THEY'RE TRYING TO DO INTENSE WRESTLING PLEASE STOP PLAYING TAYLOR SWIFT." Soon enough, somebody got into that music and put on some Cuban music for the Cuban visitors.

Not Pitbull, although that happened too, because Pitbull exists everywhere, in every stinking nook and cranny of this Pitbull-infested planet we call earth. Not a Buena Vista Social Club song -- these kids are in their 20's! Not just random reggaeton or random songs with random people yelling words in Spanish, because hey, they speak Spanish. Actual music from Cuba.

After it was all over and the crowd began to leave, the music system played "Guachineo" by Cuban reggaeton artist Chocolate. Members of the Cuban team -- some still in their wrestling singlets, some in their team-issued tracksuits, some winners, some still sulking from losses -- began to do that song's dance.

As they danced, it didn't seem like the Cubans were thinking too much about the enormous flashing lights of the incredibly not-Cuban place that surrounded them. Their song was on, and in that moment, that mattered more than anything.

For so long, the American perception of Cuba has been this taboo, vaguely malicious place that political refugees and baseball players occasionally leak out of. My hope is that as these nations normalize relationships -- or as any group meets any new group of people -- that perception fades.

Cubans aren't communist ideologues or walking, talking cigars: they're people. People who might like the same sports you like. People who have spent a long time living under a not-so-great government. And even when surrounded by the loudest, largest reminders that they're in a different, strange place, they can take a moment to wrestle, or dance, or do whatever it is that they love.