International sporting competitions provide a rare opportunity for people to join together under their flag and express a sense of national pride. Although it is the participation that brings sports fans together in appreciation of the game itself, winning that can rally a whole country.
Over the years, Spain has produced some world-class soccer players but as a national team, they haven’t made it to the late stages of a major soccer competition in 44 years. In this year’s Euro Cup, Spain turned to the power of positive thought for it’s slogan for their team, and rallied its hope under the optimistic cry of ‘¡Podemos!’ meaning ‘We can!’ As the team advanced through the qualifying games, soccer fever began to infect the nation.
In the bars, people were on edge; torn between the ingrained reluctance to get their hopes up and the pull of optimism that a real victory was so close. ‘I don’t want to be too hopeful,’ said one of my Spanish friends with a look of fear in her eyes, ‘but at the same time…’ she was unable to even bring herself to finish the sentence. ‘¡Podemos!’, I cried, and her face lit up and she laughed, no doubt at an extranjero (foreigner) repeating the phrase so lustily. She decided to throw caution to the wind: ‘¡Si! ¡Podemos!’
Of course, I am not the only foreigner supporting Spain. When none of the UK teams qualified, Spain became the surrogate team for many British supporters, with a national TV commercial encouraging fans to rally behind their favourite holiday destination. The theory behind this was that the underdogs should stick together, with the commercial assuring the Scottish, English, Welsh and Irish fans that ‘All of the home nations’ championship traditions will be respected, because Spain always mess up too.’
As a native Scot, I have long understood what it means to be an underdog nation in the sporting world. We are good natured about our reliable losing; we accept that our population is too tiny to produce a large pool of exceptional athletes. The odds are against us before we even start playing. Perhaps it is this resignation to our fate that allows us to be so good natured about our loss, while simultaneously freeing us to hope for a miracle. It is a question of faith.
The Spanish who crowded around me in the town square in San Pedro Del Pinatar to watch the final against Germany on big screen TVs outside the popular tapas bars were like a bottle of Champagne ready to pop. The Spanish, it seems, are not ones for counting their chickens before they are well and truly hatched. They appeared cool and chilled, but there was evidence of the excitement that bubbled underneath. Fireworks had popped spontaneously throughout the day, and I had seen bottles of Cava, Spain’s sparkling wine, stacked in the fridges of the bars. Underneath their uncharacteristic composure was an immense amount of excitement and hope just waiting to be let loose.
A few minutes into the game, it looked like Spain would score and the crowd jumped to its feet, cheering and shouting at the screens. The ball flew wide of the net, but the Spanish had found their confidence and the atmosphere crackled with excited laughter and encouraging shouts for the rest of the game. Air horns blared each time a Spanish striker got near the goal.
When Fernando Torres put the first goal into the net, the crowd erupted. People leapt onto tables and chairs and hugged one another; the air was a blur of red and gold flags. The party atmosphere continued and when the final whistle blew on a score of 1-0 to Spain, the feeling of camaraderie that unified the celebrations was over whelming. We had done it!
Spain, the underdog right up until the final, had come out victorious and a whole nation celebrated together in the streets long into the night. Across the country, ‘We can!’ became ‘We knew we could!’ and a legend was born that will give hope to future generations of children as they support their national team alongside their families. Yes, sometimes the underdog does have it’s day.
