El Duque Takes New York

It doesn't hurt, of course, that Hernandez is playing for one of the best teams in baseball history. Last Thursday, when the Yankees came from behind to beat the Tampa Bay Devil Rays, they surpassed the legendary 1927 Yankees to set a new American League record for most wins in a season. At 113-48 as they head into the final game of the regular season, the 1998 Yankees have won more games than any other team except the 1906 Chicago Cubs, which had 116 victories. But Duque is not riding any coattails. He has fought his way into the Yankees' lineup, piling up strikeouts and improving his earned-run average (3.13) even as a couple of his fellow Yankee pitchers have stumbled. ""He's a tough competitor,'' says Yankees manager Joe Torre. ""He's come through under a tremendous amount of pressure.'' Just two months ago, Torre figured that Duque would return to the minor leagues for more polishing; now, he's so impressed with the Cuban's talent and willpower that he plans on relying on him heavily during the playoffs.

Hernandez insists that fame and fortune have not changed him. ""I'm the same person I always was,'' he says, as he irons his shirts in the Manhattan hotel room where he lives. Hernandez avoids trendy hangouts and gravitates to blue-collar places like Mambi in Washington Heights, Club Ilusiones in Queens, or Hooters in midtown Manhattan. (Hooters is famous for its scantily clad waitresses, but Duque seems equally interested in the fraternity of Latino fans--and, oddly enough for a millionaire, the free burgers.) When he heads to Yankee Stadium, Duque rides the subway. Dressed in a Hugo Boss T shirt, tan shorts and a gold Rolex (a gift from Livan), he passes relatively unnoticed--until he gets to the stadium. At the players' entrance, fans clamor for his autograph and two little girls scream: ""Duque, te amo!''

The girls' cries are poignant reminders of what's truly changed for Hernandez: he left his family, and his young daughters, behind in Cuba. Yahumara, 8, and Steffi, 3, live with his ex-wife in the powder-blue house the Cuban government gave him when it still considered him a hero. Hernandez's presence is still palpable there in everything from the faded ""El Duke'' graffito on the rooftop water tank to the roasting 300-pound pig that was bought with money he sent back. Yahumara, dressed in a blue pinafore, told a visitor that she wants her father ""to keep on winning--and to get me all the Barbies he can.'' Hernandez's mother, Maria Julia Pedroso, lives in the house where he grew up in nearby Wajay with her daily calendar still stuck on Dec. 25, the last day she saw her son. Duque's grandfather, a wizened 82-year-old man with an ebony face and most of his teeth missing, put on a Yankees cap and beamed. ""I've never been happier in my life,'' he said. ""It's as though I've been born again.''

Hernandez also feels reborn, but he's had to enjoy it largely on his own. His days are spent talking with friends and family on his cellular phone, signing deals with his agent, traveling from city to city, trying to keep his head together. In the clubhouse, Duque is friendly--he's even learned slang English expressions like ""Wazzup, brother'' and ""See ya tomorrow, man''--but he seldom hangs out with his teammates after the games. ""I don't have any friends here, only teammates,'' he says. ""It takes longer to make friends.'' After a recent game, Duque went back out to the playing field after the game. The hallowed stadium was empty, the sky was streaked pink and orange, and he did his final sprints around the warning track. By the time he finished, all the other players had left and Duque ate his dinner in front of his locker--alone.

Even now, when he steps out of Yankee Stadium at night, Hernandez is surprised to feel the rush of freedom. ""I knew this was a free country,'' he says, ""but I never thought there would be so much freedom to do what you want.'' Money, of course, makes him feel even freer. In August, the guy who used to borrow his friend's beat-up old Moskvitch bought a silver BMW sedan and a luxury apartment in Miami Beach. And the man who used to weep at his inability to provide for his family sends them expensive gifts and envelopes filled with dollars. But that won't bring his family any closer. When his daughter Yahumara received a Mickey Mouse suitcase he sent, she started rolling it down the walkway in her Havana home. ""I'm going on a trip to New York!'' she said. It won't happen soon. But maybe it's something Duque could take up with Chango--or the Statue of Liberty.

Orlando Hernandez