Viva la Furia Roja!

Ole , ole y ole…

So I´ve become a Spanish ambassador of sorts among my non-Spanish family and friends here in the States… to the point where I´m sure most some are tired of me yapping about Spanish anecdotes that are only funny to me (like THAT could happen), but yesterday something happened that really surprised me. A colleague and I were discussing Spain’s Eurocup victory and he said, “Spain played great. You guys really deserved the win.”

So I’m terrible at math, but what I heard was:

“You guys” = Me (Jess) + actual Spaniards?

I have to admit in the seconds after he said that, I was strangely proud but mostly embarrassed. It was like college all over again – the American girl who wants to be Hispanic so everyone assumes she is. Truth be told, I´m not Spanish (this must come as a shock considering my striking Mediterranean features and the fact that I often ask questions ending with NO – as in “That is a cat, no?”). Despite telling my high school Spanish teacher I would marry a Spaniard (a self-fulfilling prophecy decided after a flamenco show in Granada – so, maybe I really wanted to marry a gypsy? Only Keeding, Carlos), and attempting to join the Latinos Unidos social group in college (I was politely asked to leave because I´m not Hispanic – wish this wasn’t a true story), I don’t have an ounce of Spanish blood in my veins.

So I’m forced to face reality – I´m an honorary Spaniard at best (if such a crown existed, which it should), and since I use casual phrases like “de puta madre” at the dinner table (ask my father-in-law), and most importantly, speak with a Castilian lisp (obviously not when I speak English), I feel the need to harness my inner Spaniard right now and recognize a very important group of men. I’m not talking about the cast of Magic Mike (at least not in this post); but a different group of guys who do some equally valuable work with their clothes on unfortunately… Yes, damas y caballeros, I´m talking about the Spanish National football team (soccer to you, Yanks)… best known as “La Furia Roja”.

The Next Big All Male Dance Review? A girl can dream.

Spain has become the first country ever to win back-to-back-to-back major titles (the World Cup in 2010 & the Eurocup in 2008 & 2012), and quite frankly, this latest victory couldn´t have come at a better time. We´ve all heard a lot about Spain in the news lately, and most of it has been tied to “La Crisis”. Words like “unemployment”, “debt”, “bail-out” and “austerity” have become synonomous with the Spanish economy, and it´s true that many Spanish families struggle to find employment and make ends meet. While most Americans may be familiar with Spain´s economic woes, they may not be familiar with the regional tensions that intensify already strained political relationships and football rivalries, arenas whose borders are often blurred. Since the dictatorship, politics and acute nationalism have been become intertwined with football in many a stadium, highlighting tensions between regions including Madrid, the Basque Country, and Catalunya, among others. That is why Spain’s recent string of championships are more than just victories and why the Spanish National football team is more than just a team.

The boys in red are comprised of players from all over the country; from Xavi and Pique (both from Catalunya), to Xabi Alonso (País Vasco), to Casillas and Torres (Madrid), to Ramos (Sevilla) and Iniesta (Albacete), the Spanish national team is a blended family, uniting the country and reaffirming that national pride in the Spanish flag is a good thing. These guys have grown up playing with and against each other for years and know each others’ strengths and weaknesses. They have come to define synergy through hard work, humility and fair (albeit sometimes overdramatic) play; each player is strong in his own right, but when they play together, the team is greater than the sum of its parts (think the Beatles vs. Ringo Starr’s solo career).

As I watched the celebrations unfolding in the various cities throughout Spain after their schooling of victory against Italy, I heard Spaniards yelling “Soy español, español, español!”, which was such a great surprise. You don’t usually see that sentiment expressed within Spain (ex-pats have the tattoo on their forehead, obviously), but in Spain, expressing this type of nationalism just hasn’t been the norm. (Sidenote: I should clarify that Spaniards are extremely proud of their heritage, their country, their cuisine, and of course, their football.) It’s just that the whole country hasn’t always supported one national identity, inspiring people in all cities to want to paint the Spanish flag on their bodies… but times they are a changin’.

The Spanish National team has done more to foster a national identity and pride in the last four years than any government, political party or the monarchy in the last 20 (no offense, Your Majesty, I think you’re great, but you’re recent safari trip probably wasn’t the most austere decision). They’ve given Spaniards a reason to celebrate in a difficult time (not that a reason is needed, it’s just nice to have one). They’ve united people with their style of play, not just in Spain but around the world. They’ve also given Spaniards bragging rights for the next century, since it’s unlikely that another team will be able to follow in their footsteps anytime soon (possibly the only downside since I’m living with a Spaniard).

So, boys, this post is for you. Thanks for a great Eurocup, and thanks for being so incredibly good-looking. I love watching you play the game and hope to see all of you in Brazil come 2014. And for those of you who may complain that it’s Fourth of July, I’m American, and yet I’m posting about my love of Spain, here’s a bit of Americana for you. Happy Fourth! Viva la Furia Roja!