Over 50s may remember when Teófilo Stevenson won his first Olympic heavyweight boxing gold medal in Munich in 1972. 40-somethings may remember when he claimed his third successive gold in Moscow in 1980. Boxing enthusiasts of all ages will remember Teófilo Stevenson, who died last week in his native Cuba, at the too young age of 60, as perhaps the greatest amateur boxer of all time. And students of the Cuban Revolution, young and old, will remember him as an athlete who transcended his sport to become an icon of the Revolution and a symbol of its ideals and aspirations.
Teófilo Stevenson ruled the amateur ring when the Cold War was being fought in a parallel theatre of operations – the sports arena – with Olympic dominance representing the triumph of one ideology over another. Or so its main protagonists believed.
George Orwell famously said that “sport is war minus the shooting.” The Olympics, fuelled by the growth of live television coverage, particularly in the USA, was the ultimate sporting battleground. For the communist bloc, especially the USSR, East Germany and Cuba, the Olympics and live television in the West were a heaven-sent opportunity to wage sporting war. Consequently, no expense, no effort and no tricks were spared to assert the superiority and good health of the communist system, as demonstrated by an assembly line of state-sponsored athletes.
The boycott of the Los Angeles Olympiad in 1984 by the USSR and its allies was in retribution for the US boycott of the Moscow Games. It was part and parcel of the bitter sporting rivalry of the Cold War, but it denied Teófilo Stevenson a shot at a fourth gold medal. Nevertheless, like a good soldier, he accepted his government’s decision. His never appeared to be on a quest for personal glory.
Teófilo Stevenson was a communist propagandist’s dream come true. He was never tainted by accusations of doping or any other form of cheating; indeed, he was a true sportsman. Nor was he seen as an ideological automaton. Rather, he seemed to represent all that was pure and beautiful about amateur boxing, with his outstanding athleticism, grace, technical excellence and devastating power. He was, moreover, handsome, endowed with a perfect physique, modest and charismatic. And he was Afro-Cuban to boot, making him a poster boy for the Cuban Revolution and its message of social egalitarianism and racial equality.
Now, the 1970s were the golden age of professional heavyweight boxing, dominated by the larger than life figure of Muhammad Ali, and it was almost inevitable that Teófilo Stevenson’s achievements would draw comparisons with the self-proclaimed “Greatest.” Unsurprisingly, it wasn’t long before plans were afoot to get the two champions together in the ring, with promises of untold riches being dangled before Teófilo Stevenson. But American boxing promoters were to be left dumbstruck and frustrated by his polite but firm refusal to be lured into their world. His response became the stuff of legend: “What is a million dollars against eight million Cubans who love me?”
Thus did Teófilo Stevenson cement his place in the hearts of his adoring compatriots and in the iconography of the Cuban Revolution. And for foreign admirers, his stance seemed to capture all that was attractive and romantic about the Revolution.
Even though he faded from public view following his retirement from the ring, Teófilo Stevenson continued to play an active role in the development of Cuba’s formidable amateur boxing machine. Little is known, however, about his later years, and the news of the premature death of this hero and symbol was a great shock, both because a mighty and much loved warrior had passed and because it was a poignant reminder of a bygone era.
