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Armas found a job as a lifeguard at West End Park in Miami, and soon tried out for the Miami Dade College baseball team. "He's the best hitter I've ever seen at that level," says Tony Garcia, a family friend. "In our social leagues, our beer leagues, he would average .661, .714, .707 at bat. It was unreal what Joel could do." Garcia even took his young friend to try out for the Mets, and a coach there told him to spend some time playing college ball.
The next few years were a blur. Armas studied at Florida Memorial University and Florida International University; dropped out to help support his family, who had just arrived from Cuba; and dabbled in singing salsa. In 2002 he won a Ford Focus on Sábado Gigante for singing. That same year he enrolled in firefighter-paramedic school and was hired by the Broward Sheriff's Office. He was also a part-time lifeguard. One day in 2005 he was at Flamingo Pool in Miami Beach. He noticed a tall, bald guy swimming fast laps using a strange-looking fin, like a whale's tail, unlike anything Armas had ever seen. The guy was Cayetano Garcia, a lifeguard on the beach and a fellow Cuban. "¿Puedo probar ésas monaletas?" Armas asked Garcia. Can I try those fins? Garcia said yes.
Armas swam a length, and then Garcia asked if the young man could swim 25 yards underwater. Sure, Armas shrugged. Stopwatch in hand, Garcia told him to begin. "I couldn't believe it," Garcia says. "Seven-point-five seconds. He was faster than I was."
Garcia, who is about 15 years older than Armas, was no newcomer to the monofin. He was trained by Russians in Cuba in the early Eighties and won several competitions on the island as well as for the United States after he emigrated. In fact, when he met Armas, he was the U.S. monofin champ. "I want to give you this monofin," Garcia told Armas that day in the pool. "I've got a feeling that you're going to be a world-ranked champion in the sport."
Under Garcia's tutelage, Armas began to train for his first world competition in Ravenna, Italy; his daily routine was unlike the torturous regimen in Cuba. There was no one telling him what to do, what to eat, and how to think.
He had just started dating his now-fiancée, Teresa. She recalls that he spent four hours at the pool every day — beginning at 5:00 a.m. "He was so positive about everything in life, so motivated," says Teresa, a Miami doctor who is also from Cuba.
Armas came in 17th in that Italian competition and broke Garcia's U.S. fin swimming record. He has placed in the top 20 in more than a dozen races around the world since then, but has never finished in the top five.
Earlier this year, in Hungary, he placed ninth. This summer, at a contest in Bari, Italy, he came in 17th. These days, when Garcia has to work on the beach, Armas cajoles the Hialeah Gardens pool lifeguard to time him. He has spent his own money to buy two pairs of fins (around $700 apiece) and figures he has shelled out more than $20,000 on travel. He has tried to enlist companies such as Red Bull and Nike as sponsors, but the answer has always been no.
At overseas competitions, everyone knows who he is. Standing six feet two inches tall and weighing 220 pounds, he makes most of the other swimmers look like Lilliputians. "I'm the Americano," says Armas, grinning. "I'm not the best in the world, but I'm the most recognized." His weight is both a liability and an asset: Being so muscular gives him the strength he needs to propel the fin and swim fast for 50 meters. But a smaller frame is best for longer races.
In September, just as the fin swimming season drew to a close, Armas put his training on hold for a few months. He wants to concentrate on his studies — in case his future as a professional fin swimmer doesn't work out. But he's still hoping. "I'm doing what my original country would never let me do," says Armas. "I'm prouder to represent the United States, this country, than Cuba, my home country."