Snippets from Spain

Screaming for Spain in Reno, Nevada

Two Sundays ago, at 11:15 in the morning, we dragged four stools up to a bar top in Reno, Nevada. Five television sets loomed above us. We settled in to watch Spain face off Argentina in the final match of the World Cup. My son wore a Spanish team shirt. We turned around to check out the other patrons. All wore street clothes or a shirt of the Argentinian team. At 12:00, game time, I ordered a locally-brewed hazy IPA, the earliest hour I’ve ever ordered an alcoholic beverage. I was going to need it.

I’d like to say my husband, son, his girlfriend, and I had driven forty minutes from Truckee to Reno to see the game on a large screen and show our devotion to Spain and fútbol. The real reason for leaving Truckee was that we wanted to shop at the Patagonia outlet after the game. If we had time and strength following purchasing, we’d swing by a monument to the Basque sheep herders and the local Basque community, another way to honor our adopted country.

During the game, our arms shot above our heads and cheers for Spain spilled out of our throats every time our team took a shot on goal. We buried our heads in our hands when they missed. We chewed our knuckles as the Argentines stole the ball. The man next to me didn’t raise his hands, yell, or groan. He just ordered another vodka drink in a can. When I asked him who he was rooting for, he replied “Argentina.” I asked him why. “I don’t like Spain,” he said.

Early in the game when we weren't biting our nails (photo credit Natalia Torres)

We and those other patrons in the bar formed some of the nearly 63 million people who watched this World Cup Final, more than any other fútbol championship ever in the United States. Viewing was 132 percent higher than that of the World Cup championship in Qatar in 2022. Perhaps to the chagrin of our New Yorker son-in-law and his father, more people watched this game than the New York Knicks’ recent triumph in the NBA Championship. This fútbol match exceeded the most watched sporting events, including baseball’s World Series, in the U.S. For the first time, there was a half-time show in a soccer game.

The TV cut to shots of Spain where spectators gathered in town squares, parks, sports complexes, and beaches to watch the game on giant screens. This game represented a lot to the country, and it had much to prove to the world. Spain won its first World Cup in 2010. Many wondered if it took the championship only because of its exceptional players at that time.

When Spain scored its only goal and the game ended, we whooped with excitement and slapped high fives. The other customers remained silent. Fox TV showed live action from Madrid and other Spanish cities where people screamed, hugged each other, and jumped up and down. This victory proved that Spain had become a true and permanent power; taking the 2010 trophy wasn’t a stroke of luck.

While we strolled out of the bar tamping down the spring in our step to a deserted street in 95 degrees, some of the 1.8 million people who would line the streets of Madrid were already heading towards the victory parade at Cibeles Fountain in the city center.

After a rather disappointing stop at Patagonia, we drove to the monument to the Basque sheep herders (see the previous Snippet about sheep herders’ carvings on aspens).

We piled out of the car and sauntered down a path rimmed by sagebrush and spindly trees amidst brown hills where sheep formerly grazed. This twenty-three-foot tall bronze sculpture depicts a shepherd carrying a lamb over his shoulder under a full moon. Basque sculptor Nestor Basterretxea named the monument “Bakardade” or “Solitude.” It represents the loss of the social life and community of the Old World when Basques emigrated to the Western states in the mid to late 1800s. There, they met solitude and desolation in the mountain wilderness with only sheep to accompany them spring, summer, and fall. The artist said, “It would, in fact, be unjust to reduce the personality of the sheepherder to a portrait determined by the simple sum of external appearances: for example, by his manner of dress.”

I wandered to a plaque listing donors who had given $300 to pay for the statue. I couldn’t begin to pronounce the surnames―Anchordoguy, Basterrechea, Etchegoinberry, Unhassobiscay, and Yraceburu, among others. The northern cities of Bilbao, Navarra, and San Sebastian; banks; and businesses in the Basque Country also gave money. In Reno, funders included a hotel and casino, the city government, the Sierra Arts Foundation, and a concrete company. My friend, Javier, who comes from Navarra, told me the names showed most sheep herders came from his region, while others originated from the French Pyrenees and the Spanish Pyrenees provinces of Gipuzkoa and Araba, among other places.

One plaque of Basque donors, map showing the Basque communities in the U.S., tribute to the sheep herders in Euskera, the Basque language, and translated

At end of the day, Patagonia became the least important event of our excursion. Screaming for the tenacity and strength of present-day and yesteryear Spaniards filled our hearts.

Viva España! (Photo credit Natalia Torres)