Castro may spoil for a fight but his boxers aren't spoilt at all
By Andrew Tong
Sunday, 3 April 2011
Cuba has a proud and prolific boxing tradition, and for a small island
they certainly punch above their weight. In the national academy,
alongside giant posters of its great exponents of the noble art, hangs
the image of Fidel Castro himself, the "champion of champions". For a
man who spent 40 years giving the United States a bloody nose, it seems
a fair title.
Boxing's tale of the tape is usually one of saving street urchins from a
life of crime. In Kidult: Cuban Punch-Up (BBC4, Wednesday) the
11-year-old boxers at the Havana City Academy are fighting for a shot at
Olympic glory but they are also prepared to go back out on the streets
and fight in a different way. When Castro handed over power to his
brother Raul in 2006 due to poor health, the boys were glued to his
speech on TV. Cristian Martinez says that if the USA invades during this
time of weakness, "we'll run out to defend our country".
As Castro himself intones: "The revolution must concentrate on sport. It
is of vital importance to the country." But the sweet science is more
than just nationalism, it's part of the fabric of existence in the
communist state. "Cuban boxers fight for a better future," says
Cristian, while his colleague Junior declares: "We Cubans are fighting
from the moment we are born."
They seem to accept from an early age that life is one long, hard
slugfest. They know they've got little chance of Havana cake and eating
it, and wisdom has come early despite getting their ears boxed on a
regular basis. Little Cristian is known as the "old man", his coach
Yosvani saying, "Comrade Cristian is 70 years old and he's in the
Under-12s".
They may dream of Olympic gold at London 2012, but they cannot
contemplate the megabucks that would come from going professional after
the Games – surely a crucial incentive in many of boxing's rags to
riches stories – because to defect and fight in the United States would
be a betrayal of the revolution.
Cristian's father Luis Felipe Martinez is a case in point. After winning
a bronze medal at the 1976 Olympics in Montreal, he became a national
hero and was given a house and car by the government. But the car broke
down and the house is now dilapidated and the 55-year-old, who looks
much older, is in a similar state. But while this may seem sad, it could
be that capitalists like us just don't understand.
If you can duck and weave your way past the political dogma, Cuba's
boxers present a curiously pure perspective in a world of sport that has
become tainted by filthy lucre – none more so than the kids. Luis Felipe
predicts his son will be better than him, and Yosvani says he will be
champion of the world. You wouldn't argue with either of them.
* Here's a few alternative awards from the Cricket World Cup. Most
surprising lucky beggar: Sachin Tendulkar, dropped four times by
Pakistan in the semi-final. Most diminished legend: Muttiah
Muralitharan, standing behind a mascot who was taller than him during
the national anthem. Craziest looking pundit: Ajit Agarkar, with his
eyes as big as saucers. And greatest Delhi belly weight loss: Paul
Allott in the Sky Sports studio, and he didn't even go to the
subcontinent. Perhaps we should call him Paul Not Allott.
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