Song of Freedom : Cuban Boxers Figured It Was Now or Never to Make Their Move

Angelyne strolled in the hotel lobby behind them, the vast smoggy American holiday experience stretched out before their eyes, and Joel Casamayor and Ramon Garbey looked all too ready to prove that “Independence Day” was far more than the name of a movie.

“This,” Casamayor said through a translator, “is our freedom day too.”

Thursday afternoon, on their first full day of relative freedom after fleeing from the Cuban Olympic boxing team camp near Guadalajara, then filing for political asylum in America, the two fighters smiled through a photo shoot, filled with anticipation.

“Where are the women? Where are the girls?” the 25-year-old Garbey said through a translator, grinning. “All I want to do is look for women.”

Earlier in the day, the two wandered the Universal Studios theme park and hopped onto the “Jurassic Park” ride, which was the second-most turbulent trip they had taken this summer.

Weren’t the two exhausted after their separate decisions to defect, hiding in Guadalajara, the three-day stay in a federal detention center in El Centro and Wednesday’s release, pending a full asylum hearing, with the assistance of immigration lawyer-boxing manager Frank Ronzio and the subsequent trip to Los Angeles?

“When you have caged a bird, he doesn’t sing,” said Garbey, a two-time amateur world champion and a top contender at the 175-pound limit for the Atlanta Olympic Games, which begin in two weeks. “But when you let him out, he’s happy and he sings. We’re happy. We’re content.”

It was at a late dinner the previous night where the two discussed their twin refusals to join the Communist Party of Fidel Castro--and the authorities’ reprisals for it--how they came to their decisions to defect and gave as many details about their journey as they could without jeopardizing the Mexican friends who assisted them.

The two are believed to be the fourth and fifth Cuban fighters to flee the country.

“Neither of us knew the other was going to do this,” Garbey said. “We communicated through our minds, I guess. We didn’t talk about it, but I’m happy he’s here.”

As the conversation loosened near midnight, Casamayor, 24, a 1992 gold medal-winner at 119 pounds and a favorite to win in Atlanta at 125, hoisted his glass several times, shouting “Liberte!” and eagerly shook his lawyer’s hand in thanks.

Casamayor--who denied a report that he was suspended for testing positive for a banned diuretic in 1994--said he wanted to try for his second gold, and knew he’d be worth more as a potential professional if he did. But, he said he was embittered by the treatment he received after winning the first time.

“I thought about this for long time, but not to do it right now,” said Casamayor, who said that athletes who joined the party were well taken care of. “When I was in Atlanta, that’s when I thought I was going to do it. But the opportunity came. I just felt that it was the right time.

“I knew I had a chance to get another gold medal. When I won the gold medal in Barcelona, nothing happened. I was not rewarded in any way.

“They didn’t give me anything. No money, no cars, nothing. I got a bike.”

During a break in training, Casamayor said he went for a walk, and decided that he should just keep walking. He knew Garbey had disappeared a few days earlier. Days before that, Garbey had told Casamayor that he had overheard some team officials discussing replacing the two fighters--for fear they would defect at the Games--when the team returned to Cuba before heading to Atlanta.

“It was an instant decision,” Casamayor said. “But when I took the first step, I said I’m going to go all the way.”

Garbey said he decided to leave long ago, after he was suspended from the national team in 1994--he says for political reasons--and when, after he returned, he was continuously forced to spar with Cuban heavyweight superstar Felix Savon.

“I talked to some people and I said that the next time I flew out of Cuba, I wasn’t coming back to Cuba,” Garbey said. “They wanted me to pledge to the system, but I don’t like the system. I’m not a communist. I don’t like it. That’s when I decided to leave.

“The first trip was to Europe, but I didn’t stay because it was too far from here.”

Then Garbey decided to stay through the Olympics.

But when he realized that due to increased scrutiny he probably wouldn’t be able to bolt during or after the Games, he chose to bypass the Olympics and take off during the more relaxed security of the Guadalajara camp.

“A group of us went downtown to look around; we had some friends,” Garbey said. “On the way back, I was lagging behind, falling behind. That’s when I thought, if I’m going to do it, I’ve got to do it now. This is the chance.

“When you make this decision, you follow it until you’re free. I would rather be free than be a winner of an Olympic gold medal.”

Though they are fuzzy on the details, Garbey and Casamayor were hidden separately in Guadalajara for at least a week, then were transported to Tijuana, when Ronzio and his brother, Al Rogers, were alerted to their situation and traveled to meet them in a hotel room.

From there, Ronzio and Rogers informed U.S. immigration officials, and drove the two Cubans to the San Ysidro border, where they were put in a detention center for three days until their Wednesday release--pending an asylum hearing at an unspecified date in an unspecified venue.

Neither man denied that they are considering fighting professionally--almost certainly with Ronzio and Rogers as their managers--and both said they would eventually like to live in Las Vegas.

Though they were in what basically is a jail cell, neither was bothered by the stay.

“It wasn’t bad,” Garbey said. “They called me Tyson. They called him Sugar Ray. We liked that.”

Asked if they thought Cubans would be angry at them for leaving on the eve of the Olympics or happy that they were free, both fighters were sure.

“I think they’re happy for me,” Garbey said.

Said Casamayor: “I think the people have sympathy for us. Our fans and relatives, they know what we’ve been through. And they’ve said we should’ve done it before.”

Both men left a girlfriend and a young child in Cuba (Garbey a 3-year-old son, Casamayor a 5-year-old daughter--”she is my life,” he said) and both said they spoke with their girlfriends after leaving the team.

“She was surprised,” said Casamayor, who is from Guantanamo. “She cried and she hung up on me. And then I cried also. I hope to bring her here. If everything goes right, I’m sure I’ll be able to.”

Said Garbey, who is from Santiago, on the southern side of the island: “What hurts the most is that I may never see my family again. My girlfriend is expecting a baby, and I’ll never see my baby.”

But, Casamayor said, almost nobody is truly happy in Cuba under Castro.

“It’s shaking, but it hasn’t crumbled yet,” Casamayor said of the Castro government. “They look happy and everything, but they’re hungry.”

As a sign of the problems that exist, Casamayor said, look at their situations, and, he suggested, there are more Cuban defections to come.

“Yes,” he said. “You’ll see in Atlanta.”