- Narration: So we live the game
It is the gold that our eyes would no longer see, the second world summit of a Spain that gave a planetary lesson in Beijing: there is no impossible when you die for an idea with the touching brotherhood with which this group has already done for history , led on the track by Marc Gasol and Ricky Rubio and on the bench by Sergio Scariolo . On the one hand the origins, the rivalries, the past and even what is to come. On the Wukesong track, where the team already starred in another of his milestones in the 2008 Olympic final, Rudy Fernandez lifted the world cup to Chinese heaven as 13 years before Carlos Jiménez had done it in Saitama. Spain returned to an unexpected paradise after finishing off the perfect tournament against Argentina in the final. [Narration and statistics]
Life can be wonderful when the mishaps become 'casus belli', doubts become the deepest of the springs, life is left for each loose ball and the heart to help the partner in trouble. But it would be unfair to affirm that golden Spain is only courage, because nobody surpassed them in wisdom, in tactical wealth, in internalizing each party plan as if it were the plane of escape from the prison. Scariolo's orders were religion, egos aside, which is the greatest achievement that a collective can achieve in professional sports. It is the ethics of which they gave him nothing, of which they gave him for failure before starting, of which he heard again and again that of 'they are no longer what they were'.
Spain takes the witness of the humiliated USA Team, that group of vedettes that represents the opposite, that renounces a summer of passion as if winning a World Cup was not something extraordinary. They paid dearly for contempt and Spain - also Argentina with that silver that, stifled tears, worth as much as gold - taught them the success of the outstretched hand and camaraderie.
The final battle against Argentina had nothing to do with the previous challenges, nor the talent of Italy, nor the overwhelming superiority of Serbia and the power of Australia. At heart, just, Sergio Hernández's was not going to be defeated. You had to match its hardness, teach the teeth of aggression and, along the way, try to impose talent. The genius of Campazzo and the tricks of pure class of a giant like Luis Scola had to be stopped.
The game woke up with three slaps. Neither scruples nor contemplations. Two wild groups on the ring. First Spain, which is usually lazy (2-14), with Oriola in the quintet to harass Scola, with Juancho's quick hands and offensive rebound as punishment for a trembling Argentina. Brussino responded and an unexpected mistake that scrapped the rear, the Spanish treasure, receiving stabs to the counter, never seen. More singular was the following arreón, again Spanish, with the second unit, without Marc on the track, with a Willy concentrated as never before, a killing Pau Ribas and two Rudy triples that made the matter clear: those of Scariolo ruled for 17 ( 14-31) mediated the second act.
But it was a final and a rival who does not throw in the towel while he has a breath of life. Argentina continued with its plan, overwhelming defense of the first line - although it neglected the rebound - and fast attacks. Rhythm, rhythm, rhythm. He threatened to approach again, but Spain was a wonderful contrast: pure mental ice, heart fire. He went to rest with a juicy income (31-43), with Campazzo and Scola voided, but with a serious problem: all exteriors loaded with fouls, including Ricky, who committed the third in a penetration in the penultimate play of the first part.
It is a time of brave, that Ricky continues to return and that Spain redeploys that defense that amazes the world, that should be studied in schools and not only basketball, but also life, because it is a song to solidarity. Another combination of blows (0-12), with Ricky himself conducting an orchestra, to stretch his hand more towards gold (33-55, min. 25). The selection was then a beautiful symphony that only stopped by albiceleste pride resources, which also included not so lawful arts.
It was moving to see Scariolo's soldiers go exhausted to the bench, efforts of guys who have been leaving their souls for two weeks. Rudy was also the captain there, his battered physical on the table, everything did not matter. They were not going to lower the piston. Because Sheep Hernandez could no longer find cracks where to breathe. Scola did not put a basket in play until minute 35 - clogged again and again - because having Spain in front is to meet that "wall!" They scream in each huddle.
You just had to resist the last desperate send of Argentina. That he threatened to come up in the final act, defending beyond the limit; but again the Spanish temple, not a hint of panic, a triple of Juancho from the corner as if he had been playing endings for an eternity. And that Juancho and Ribas himself were eliminated for fouls. They did not shake their hands in the free throws and the past tense. The national team was world champion, there is nothing.
If time tries to steal its fullness, Spain squeezes it hard, clings to life, does not let go. That is memory, the much-mentioned DNA. Because this selection refuses to have epitaph, every summer a cherry, which more amazing. 13 years later he shouts again that it is a country of baskets: ba-lon-ces-to!
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- Basketball World Cup 2019
- Spanish Basketball Team
- Argentina Women's Soccer Team
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