Of Soccer and Secession

Cape Town, FIFA World Cup, 2014 —The Basque Country and Slovenia scored a 3-3 tie in the first game of Group B. In its first-ever appearance at the World Cup finals — held in Africa for the first time, also — the national side of the newly recognized Basque republic showed none of the jitters common to a Debutantes, but the match between two of the smallest members of the European football community will be remembered mostly as the coming out party of the Basque Country — Euskal Herria, in Basque — a nation that until four years ago did not exist for FIFA, world football's governing body. There was a certain symmetry in the fact that it came against Slovenia, another diminutive country whose best players, like the Basques, had to play under the flag of a different country until they gained their independence from Yugoslavia?

In case you come from a different solar system, this is a fictional, time-travel, story. But it is the kind of story that many Basques, myself included, are eagerly — if pessimistically — hoping to read some day. The tough Slovenes got their own World Cup baptism of fire — against Spain, no less — on Sunday, making their first appearance at the tournament since breaking away from Yugoslavia in 1991. The Basques, meanwhile, have to make do with sharing their football resources with the Spanish and the French national teams.

In spite of the perception, when Spain played Slovenia in Kwangju, South Korea, plenty of people on the prosperous and self-reliant Spanish side of the Basque Country (there is also a French portion, on the other side of the western Pyrennees ) were secretly hoping for Spain to do well — myself included. After all, Spain has two Basque players — midfielders Javi De Pedro, from Real Sociedad and Gaizka Mendieta, who plays for Italian side Lazio — whereas Slovenia has none. (France also plays Basque left back Bixente Lizarazu).

Many tapas (pintxos) eating , bar-hopping (txikiteo) hardcore Basque nationalists will tell anyone who asks that they want Spain to lose. But don't be taken in; it's not really true. Most of them went home — or to the bar around the corner — and watched the game, and wishing in their hearts that De Pedro hits the back of the net for the winning goal. I know, because I have been there.

Beyond our conflicted, ambivalent, and many times downright incomprehensible relation with Spain, every sport-loving Basque (including myself) dreams of having our athletes represented directly in international competition. And there is none bigger than the World Cup. Some tentative steps towards international recognition have been taken. A Basque cycling team — Euskaltel-Euskadi — has been the biggest and most passionate draw in the Tour de France during the last couple of years. (If you doubt it, pay a visit to the Col d'Aubisque, in the Pyrennees, sometime around mid-July, and see for yourself.) But the efforts by the Basque Government and citizens' groups to gain FIFA recognition of an independent football federation, in the way that Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland compete separately from England despite of being part of the United Kingdom, are consistently denied — at the behest, no doubt, of the Spanish authorities

For many Basques, the idea of our own team separate from Spain is mainly an emotional aspiration. It has to do with being able to hear the anthem and seeing the flag on the world stage. Others see it as a purely political issue: one more step towards independence, regardless of whether the team is good or compares to Liechtenstein, the nihilist sports equivalent of having borders and nothing to fill them with. But frequently lost in the debate is the fact that a Basque side could actually kick some butt against many teams playing in the World Cup finals. A combination of players from the Basque teams in the Spanish league — let alone the French first division — and those in the diaspora (such as Mendieta, one of the top right mid-fielders in the game) would make a competitive team. Which leaves us thinking that the Spanish opposition to an international Basque federation may have less to do with political resistance that with fear of being showed up at some point by those bad ol' boys from the North.

Of course, at this point this is pure and unadulterated conjecture, the type of hypothetical, delicious chatter that every football fan in the world lives for. The Basque Country and Slovenia have actually played each other at the World Cup before. In 1990, they were "represented" by Yugoslavia, while we were "represented" by Spain. Now they play for themselves. Not us.

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