THE GAME MY GREAT UNCLE NEVER GOT TO PLAY

"When one thinks of Spain, basketball dominance does not come readily to mind." With these words my Great Uncle James Blanco summed up the Spanish National Basketball Team of the mid-1930's, of which he was a member. Topping out at a robust 5 feet, 8 inches tall, he recalls being among the taller members of the team. The Spanish team was all set to represent Spain in the Berlin Summer Olympics of 1936 when the Spanish Civil War intervened, dashing Uncle Jimmy's hopes, not to win a gold medal, but to represent his nation on the world stage and to compete at the most demanding level of his sport against the very best of the best.

Instead, he was drafted to fight in the civil war that devastated his nation, seeing combat on both sides when faced with the alternative of the firing squad, one of many Spaniards ambivalent towards either side. Most only wanted the war to be over no matter who won, it didn't make much of a difference to them. A nightmare is a nightmare and the sooner one wakes up, the better. Unable to join his sisters in New York, he fought for survival in the war that Germany and Italy used as a dress rehearsal for World War 2. It seems that Generalissimo Francisco Franco was a member of the exclusive European Fascist Madman Club, with Hitler and Mussolini as the other charter members. Those stalwarts were counting on Spain to join them in World War 2 as a partner in the Axis Powers to repay their favor of decimating his nation with the Luftwaffe and heavy artillery to help him win the Spanish Civil War.

Apparently Franco wasn't as nuts as his buddies and sat that one out, figuring he had what he wanted, Spain, and didn't need any more hot lead shredding his sunny climes and adding to the 500,000 civil war deaths. As a result he was the only member of the Fascist Madman Club to survive that war and ruled Spain until he was an old man, dying in his bed in 1975 at 82. None of which impressed Uncle Jimmy, who relinquished all claims to his property in Spain and came to America, vowing never to return as long as Franco drew breath, a promise he kept. He'd had enough of fascism and slaughter and the European class system that made the accident of birth one's permanent destiny. Although he came from a family of wealth, property and privilege, he turned his back on the notion of padrones and peons.

Instead my great uncle became an American citizen and found happiness in Manhattan, refusing to emigrate to South America like so many other disaffected Spaniards, where by the accident of their own birth and for no other reason they were elevated to positions of authority at the expense of the indigenous peoples. "A man cannot know what he is worth in such conditions. In New York, your ability is the only pedigree that matters." Wise words. James Blanco sought no opulent villa staffed with fawning peasants. He worked and lived a long lifetime in Manhattan apartments, became fascinated with American football and still followed basketball, but lamented that it had become an overly physical game of giants, lacking the nuance and skill of the game he remembered playing.

So, watching Spain play the United States in the Beijing Olympics brought Uncle Jimmy to mind. While Spain these days is a pretty respectable power in European basketball, the match with the United States ended in pretty much the same result Uncle Jimmy expected in 1936, a lopsided American victory, 119-82, with the Spanish players giving every ounce of skill and energy at their command. James Blanco did not resent American athletes, but admired them. "I would very much liked to have shaken the hand of Jesse Owens in Berlin," he once told me of the black man who won four gold medals in track and field, almost singlehandedly puncturing Hitler's Superman Aryan Race myth.

No one cheered harder for American boxer and World Heavyweight Champion Joe Louis two years later in 1938 when he avenged his only defeat by knocking out Germany's Max Schmeling, an event broadcast on radio throughout the world. Uncle Jimmy heard the fight on an army radio in Spain, the war put on hold for the thrilling 2 minutes and 29 seconds that fight lasted. And when Spain was preparing for the 1936 Olympics, he said: "There was but one team we prepared to play, and that was the Americans. It was their game, and they excelled at it and this was the first time basketball would be an Olympic sport. We loved basketball and did our best to emulate the American game. I was very proud to be a part of it."

Looking up the record, basketball sure was a very different game back then since the United States won the gold medal by beating Canada by the score of 19-8. More points are generally scored in the first quarter of a basketball game these days. Who knows, maybe Spain would have outdone Canada's 8 points to win the Silver Medal in 1936. But in the game my Great Uncle never got to play, Spain displayed the same skill, passion and dedication in 2008 as the 1930's team and did their nation proud by competing against the best of the best and seem destined to take a medal. Other than the gold, that is. Uncle Jimmy, ever the realist but always one to do his very best, this one's for you. Say hello to Mr. Owens for us.