Three for the money

As you may or may not know, we here in Nomaslovokia have a soft spot in our heart for most things Cuban. So, naturally, the recent defection of three of the tiny island's most lauded fighters got me thinking about the immense gravity of their decision and the rippling ramifications it will have on the boxers, the boxing world and their native country.

Early last month, 25-year-old superbantam Yuriorkis Gamboa, 26-year-old heavyweight Odlanier Solis and 27-year-old flyweight Yan Barthelemy bolted Fidel Castro's socialist utopia. While training for the Pan-Am games in Venezuela, the trio, along w/their respective gold medals from the Athens Olympics, slipped away for the team complex, made their way to Colombia, signed six figure deals with a Hamburg-based promoter and will make their professional debuts tonight. These three fighters (all smart-money favorites to repeat with gold in Bejing) are certainly not the first Cuban Athletes to leave behind family and friends and seek fortune and freedom outside their intoxicating yet oppressive homeland. What is more compelling is the fact that a large majority of the greatest sportsmen ever churned out by the potent academies of the revolution chose to stay - three-time gold medalists Teofilo Stevenson and Felix Savon, track and field legend Alberto Juantorena, the greatest men's high jumper in history Javier Sotomayor and the Ted Williams of Cuba, Omar Linares. Each man eschewed staggering paydays (by Cuban standards, where the average salary clocks in at about 30 bucks a month) to remain at home and compete not for the riches bestowed on professional athletes around the world, but rather to serve as role models, exemplars of the pure spirit of the Socialist man which has been hammered into every Cuban since the heady days of 1959. When Teofilo turned up his nose at a five-million-dollar offer to fight Ali ( a dream match-up that had every boxing aficionado salivating) he reportedly quipped "what's a few million dollars compared to the love of eleven million Cubans?"

All Cubans are poor. But when one travels through the Eastern province of Guantanamo, hopefully en route to the knee-buckling beauty of Santiago, the concept of poverty is poignantly illuminated. Both Joel Casamayor and Yuriokis Gamboa were reared in the penumbra of the U.S. base at Guantanamo Bay. In one of the first interviews he gave after his defection, Gamboa recounted how he had to sell his gold medal to pay for his young daughter's birthday party. Every potential defector is faced with a harrowing decision; remain, compete as an amateur and continue the great struggle with his fellow countrymen, or leave and possibly subject family and friends to various persecutions to pursue the dreams that are the birthright of all world-class athletes outside of Cuba. To a man, the three fighters stated that they had accomplished all that was possible within the amateur ranks and wanted to test themselves against the best in the world, knowing that it could be many years before they saw their families again.

Despite the best efforts of the Castro regime, this recent trend (much to the delight of the Miami crowd) of the best and the brightest plying their trades elsewhere, is gaining considerable momentum, in stark contrast to the legends of past, many of whom were, or still are, high ranking members of the party, devout, committed. The present-day Cuban athlete does not concern himself much with politics, and it is probably a safe bet to say that none of them would punch out an anti-Castro protester in a Miami airport like Teofilo once did. That is not to say that they, like every other Cuban, aren't impressively, vehemently nationalistic. They probably consider Che Guevera a god, and would lunge at the opportunity to have their photo taken with" El Jefe."

But they also probably reserve their political opinions only to be shared in hushed tones with their closest allies. I do not portend to know the political leanings of the three Olympians, but there has been no rationale other than sport and economics offered for their defection. To the great chagrin of the government, who do everything possible to insulate its citizens from the ever encroaching evils of Capitalism, the dam is beginning to break. Many Cubans have access to the internet, have seen MTV Cribs and are infatuated with Hip Hop culture. Like so many young athletes, these extremely talented olympians probably aspire to live like Floyd Mayweather Jr., and that alone I imagine to be their inspiration.

What is to become of them remains to be seen. But what is certain is that they have much to live up to. From what I have gleaned they all possess the flair, acumen and passion that their predecessors were known for. Boxing annals are ripe with the heroic and innovative exploits of the great Cuban fighters. Perhaps, in the group there is the next Kid Chocolate, of whom Sugar Ray Robinson was such a fan. Or another Luis Rodriguez, who trained with Ali at the legendary 5th Street gym. What about the great middleweight Florentino Fernandez, or Benny Paret, or the master of the bolo punch, the great Kid Gavilan? Just by invoking these names, I'm probably asking too much, but it doesn't hurt to dream. In any case, I wish them and their families well and feel secure that they will do proud both those who preceded them and those who are sure to follow.
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Bud Schmeling, aka Morty Bravo, is a graduate of the Virginia Military Institute where he still holds virtually every single-season demerit record in the school's history. A former zamboni driver and wiffle-ball legend, Bravo has contributed to the Village Voice and Frank 151 as well as reporting on the Caribbean World Series, the Cuban League Series and the Dominican Winter Leagues. Presently, he presides over the Black Betty in Brooklyn and is a member of their championship softball team. He resides in Williamsburg with his Mojito-making Cuban dog. Do not challenge either of them to a drinking contest.