One is grateful to the sport that, at a certain Olympic moment, 40 years ago, gave one a unique experience and an eternal memory shared with millions of fans. That is why my maximum attention on the first day of the massive competition was directed to the Spain-Australia basketball game, the debut of Rudy’s band. I am not particularly nostalgic, but rather the opposite, because I know our capacity to manipulate and disguise memories, but sometimes the mind wanders. While I am distracted waiting for the start of the game, jumping from handball to judo, from there to hockey and back again, my head takes me back to the Forum of Los Angeles 84.
On this occasion, the image that comes to mind is that of twelve anxious players at the entrance to the changing rooms, almost running over the security guy who was in charge of not letting us out onto the pitch until half an hour before the start of the match. In the end, he had to give in to the evidence that a dozen little Spaniards with little inclination to abide by the rules and on the verge of emotional collapse in their first match in such a mythical venue, were as dangerous as the bulls in a San Fermin bull run.
Once on the court, we warmed up with baskets, the classic wheel. Our level of excitement, anxiety, nerves and probably a bit of fear caused most of my teammates (those who could, and I wasn’t one of them) to dunk like crazy. The energy was so great that we were asked from the bench to slow down a bit, because we had to save unnecessary efforts and save them for the opening game against Canada. Considering that we had a tough time and won by the skin of our teeth (83-82), it was a timely recommendation.
Our successors have not fared so well in this debut in Paris. It is never easy to make your debut at the Games, regardless of who your opponent is. It is like opening a melon: until you cut the first slice and take a bite, you don’t know if it is good. It has happened to the handball boys (I think I will die before I know when one of the thousands of grabs that occur is a foul, an exclusion or something in the game), who suffered to overcome tough Slovenia. And much worse for the hockey boys, with a 0-4 against Great Britain. Alcaraz, on the other hand, is a ripe melon for sure and won in his first individual appearance.
Returning to the sport that showered me with almost every possible blessing, Spain has gotten into quite a mess after losing to Australia (92-80). A well-deserved punishment, because their game was very poor, one of those that goes wrong at the first opportunity; you don’t get a moment of calm and tranquility, it seems like you get there several times, but then you go back to your old ways and end up as frustrated as you started, outclassed by your rivals, the scoreboard and your own mistakes.
In a basketball game like today, where games are decided by details, it is very difficult to survive by allowing your rivals to hammer the rim and your spirit more times than desirable, by stealing offensive rebound after rebound. It also doesn’t help that it takes you more than a quarter to tense up defensively, which forces you to row against the current from the start, and that tires out your muscles and minds. Like a skinny dog, all are fleas, there is always room for the unexpected. When the expected thing is that he will be a cork helping your team to stay afloat, your only differential player, Lorenzo Brown, turns into a lead, playing one of the worst games that anyone can remember. Although perhaps what hurts the most is having to recognize that Australia is not living its best period, nor that it played the game of its life.
One good thing about the Games is that they allow you to compensate for disappointments with joy. If basketball loses, then handball wins. If Laura Martínez comes close to winning bronze in judo, then her teammate Garrigós is there to show us the first medal. If hockey gets a beating, then look at men’s football, which has already qualified. The goal is to end the day with a smile. Tomorrow is another day.
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