Brad Branson: Empowerment & Content Writing

VALENCIA. The 80s and 90s were different times. We dressed differently, we had different hair and basketball was different. In the 80s, more than in the 90s, my life was basketball. I either played or watched basketball. Those clandestine VHS videos with Dr. J’s legendary dunk with the last hoop. How Larry Bird, Magic Johnson and all those great players shook us, Or ours: Epi, Chicho Sibilio, from when a black man was something exotic in a country without black people, Corbalán, Romay, who was a kind of rarity in that Spain of short people that was beginning to be colorful. Or mythological creatures like Vladimir Tkachenko and those 2.21 with mustaches. I really liked basketball and when I could afford it, which wasn’t very often, I went to Fonteta. There I saw the Pamesa ascend from one of the bottoms. Basketball, as I said, was another.

A few days ago I met my friend Paco, a classmate from school, at the bakery and he told me that he had bought tickets to see the Harlem Globetrotters. The comment surprised me. I thought they had already stopped touring because their show no longer made sense. The Globetrotters made sense at a time when, in Spain, as in other countries in Europe and the world, it was very rare to see a dunk or a pass from behind.

Americans who were not suitable for the NBA or any of those development leagues came to play in Europe. Above all, not very tall centers arrived to cover the absence of raw materials in a Spain that still had the post-war genetics. There were not many towers here and many teams had two-meter centers. The dunks that were seen were from people like Romay, who was 2.13 and if he caught it under the rim he was capable of taking a little jump and hitting the rim. But there were no great flights or acrobatics to be seen. Hence, people went to see the Harlem Globetrotters like those who now go to see the Cirque du Soleil. It was something extraordinary.

In that context, after triumphing in Italy and having played a very relevant role in Real Madrid, in the times when Madrid, above all, and more recently Barcelona, dominated Spanish basketball. These two teams shared the ten leagues of the 80s. So, for a team as young and as modest as that Pamesa, the signing of Brad Branson was an event for the city.

My ‘godfather’ Juanma Doménech, the dean of basketball journalists in Valencia, tells me that he had to cover Brad Branson’s wedding to Barbara, a Valencian woman he met in Madrid, for the newspaper. Everything he did had an impact. Yes, even Enrique Ginés asked him for a million pesetas to be a shareholder and to start 97.7 Radio.

Valencia fans felt for the first time that they had a great in their ranks. And Brad Branson, in addition to what he contributed with his game, with rebounds, posting and excellent free throw percentages, showed the ACB and Spain that Pamesa Valencia was serious. That his project deserved to be taken into consideration. That they wanted to be someone. And kids like Víctor Luengo came up from the youth academy to train with the first team and were impressed by his figure and the deep voice of that big man of 2.08 meters.

Branson made us believe that Valencia, who defeated Barça and Madrid, could be someone. The fans had Branson on their team and for the first time they felt powerful. So Valencia Basket and its fans will always be indebted to this American center who fell in love with Valencia. And this week, those of us who were lucky enough to see him play, mourned his loss.