Emilio Flores For The New York Times
By BILLY WITZ
Published: May 9, 2008
LOS ANGELES — Under a sunny sky on a manicured soccer field, the drill
was repeated over and over for 15 minutes. Maykel Galindo would settle a
cross just outside the top of the penalty area, then try to figure out a
way to put the ball past the man in goal.
Sometimes, Galindo demonstrated the skill that has made him one of the
most dangerous strikers in Major League Soccer. Other times, it was the
unfamiliar goalkeeper who would make an acrobatic save or force a miss
that left his opponent cursing in Spanish.
Most of Galindo's Chivas USA teammates and coaches, their practice over,
watched from the sideline benches a routine that might have played out
at any soccer club anywhere in the world: goal scorer versus goalkeeper.
But this scene in late April was not about mano a mano. It was Cubano a
Cubano, a chance to look out and see not only the past but also a future.
"I felt like I was in Havana," the goalkeeper, José Manuel Miranda, said
through an interpreter.
Almost two months ago, Miranda was among seven players who walked away
from Cuba's under-23 men's soccer team during an Olympic qualifying
tournament in Tampa, Fla.
He recently joined two of the others — midfielder Yordany Alvárez and
defender Yenier Bermúdez — on a four-day bus ride from Miami for a
tryout with the Los Angeles Galaxy. After the Galaxy declined to offer
them contracts, they trained for two days with Chivas USA, the other
M.L.S. team in Los Angeles. But Chivas USA also declined to keep them on.
Despite the setbacks, Miranda, Alvárez and Bermúdez hardly seem
discouraged. They met with an immigration official at the end of April
to begin seeking work permits, driver's licenses, Social Security cards
and green cards.
For now, they are relying on the largess of a network that runs through
Cuban and soccer communities in Miami, New York and Los Angeles. They
have received food, clothing, transportation, a cellphone and lodging.
They also have the opportunity to stay in shape by playing several
semiprofessional games each week. They earn $40 to $50 each per game,
which Miranda said was about five times their monthly salary at the
national soccer academy in Cuba.
"The Cuban community is very tight knit and very good at taking care of
their own people," said Alicia Molina, a lawyer for the nonprofit
International Institute of Los Angeles who is representing the players
in their applications for work permits. "This is not a typical
experience of an immigrant, but it is typical of a Cuban."
It is not, however, the typical path for a Cuban soccer player. Nearly
150 baseball players are known to have defected from Cuba, according to
the Web site Cubanball.com. Among them are well-known major leaguers
like Orlando Hernández, Liván Hernández and José Contreras.
But before Galindo's defection during the Concacaf Gold Cup in 2005,
when he sneaked out of the team hotel in Seattle, hopped on a city bus
and asked the driver to call a Spanish-speaking high school teacher he
had just met, soccer players only occasionally left for the United
States. And none have caused more than a ripple in M.L.S.
After playing two seasons in Seattle for a second-tier pro league team,
Galindo joined Chivas USA last year and became one of the league's top
scorers, with 12 goals, as his new team compiled the second-best
regular-season record in M.L.S. This season, he is making $79,500.
In Cuba, the three young players became familiar with Galindo's success
because they watched pirated broadcasts of M.L.S. games. Miranda
described their defections as "an important experience" because it
planted the idea that they could make a living doing what they love.
"The idea of playing professional sports was completely foreign to us,"
Miranda said. "It hadn't occurred to us as an option."
The role of flag bearer is one that Galindo plays reluctantly. He has
been hesitant to comment about Cuban issues, including Fidel Castro's
passing of power to his brother, Raúl, earlier this year.
"When the seven guys left in Florida, the head of the Cuban soccer
federation announced that Maykel is responsible for that," said Galindo,
who said he had not met the three players here until last week. "When I
decided to come, I did it by myself. I didn't recommend anybody else do
it. But now that they're here, I'm going to do what I can to help them."
Galindo said there were no repercussions for his family when he left.
But after his defection, Bermúdez said his brother was dismissed from
Cuba's under-20 team. And when he called his mother from Florida, he
said, the line was cut off. Bermúdez also left a girlfriend behind.
"I feel responsible for my brother," he said through an interpreter. "It
wasn't his fault. It was my fault. He knew nothing."
This and being branded a traitor by Cuban officials only increase his
desire to succeed.
Bermúdez and Alvárez are 22, and Miranda is 21. Each showed his
capabilities on the field in Florida, when Cuba tied the heavily favored
United States, 1-1. Miranda made eight saves, Alvárez assisted on the
goal and Bermúdez captained the team.
Chivas USA Coach Preki, who gave extensive tryouts to two other Cuban
defectors last summer, said their will and skill would be tested.
"It's about surviving, and Maykel is a survivor, but Maykel also has a
quality," he said, noting Galindo's speed. "It goes hand in hand. You
can bring a survivor here, but can he play the game?"
Paul Bravo, the Galaxy's director of soccer, said the three men will
probably be best served playing in the lower-level United Soccer Leagues.
"These guys are good athletes and have good minds for the game," Bravo
said. "I hope they make it. It's not easy to walk away from the
possibility of going to the Olympics, but they're like a lot of people
in Cuba — not just athletes. They're looking for a better way of life."
Alvárez and Miranda expressed disappointment with how the Galaxy tryout
went, but they shrugged it off as a learning experience. In the last two
months, they have had plenty. There was the cross-country trip, in which
they did not shower, they survived on soda and junk food, and they
endured standing at the side of a highway outside San Antonio one night
when their bus broke down. There was practicing with David Beckham,
whose poster hung in Miranda's room in Cuba.
"They're very happy now," said Federico Velasquez, a Cuban immigrant and
high school Spanish teacher from West New York, N.J., who has been their
de facto agent, calling teams and finding places for them to stay. "They
know everything is not easy, but they want to play professionally. They
appreciate the opportunity they are getting."
They hope, if work permits are secured, for another tryout. Until then,
they will play as often as they can and take everything in, as they did
recently on the freeway. They were quietly taking in sights that seemed
foreign at every turn when they spotted a familiar one up in the hills.
"It was the sign that read Hollywood," Bermúdez said. "We started taking
photos. We'd only seen it in films."
As he spoke, he became animated, his voice rising and eyes widening. It
was as if, in his own mind, he was picturing something else he had seen
before — a Hollywood ending.
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