In the Spanish village of Fontanheira, in a small café about 50 meters from the border line, Spaniards and Portuguese watch the football match between their national teams for the 2004 European Championship.
The main road that connects the two countries, starting from the old Valência de Alcântara / Marvão border, is just over a kilometer away from this spot.
On this narrow and winding road, few cars pass by each day. If it weren’t for the border markers, you wouldn’t even know whether you were in one country or the other.
© Jorge Murteira. All rights reserved.
That afternoon, only local residents seemed to pass through, such as those transporting hay for their livestock in vans or tractors. They must have come home early so they wouldn’t miss the game on TV.
Just like in the neighboring region of Marvão and Castelo de Vide, this is an aging area that has become depopulated. The younger generations left in search of better opportunities elsewhere. They return only to keep company with their parents, grandparents, relatives, and neighbors during holidays or at Christmas, bringing some life and joy back to these villages.
Before the opening of the borders with the entry into the European Union, the people living along the border maintained close ties through dances, marriages, and also smuggling.
As I will later share through testimonies I collected in these places, this was also a crossing area for those fleeing political persecution—whether from the Lisbon regime and the PIDE, or from Franco’s troops and militias.
A GOAL NOT CELEBRATED BY ALL
On the afternoon of June 20, 2004, some friends gathered to play cards as usual. A bit later, Portuguese men who had been fishing in the Sever River, right nearby, came into the café to watch what was left of the match.
That year, Portugal won. It was the last time they achieved such a feat in official matches—until yesterday, 21 years later, in the final of the Nations League, which we won on penalties.
As the players often say, “the most important thing” here isn’t the ball, but the sense of togetherness I witnessed in that place.
There are images that speak for themselves—no need for commentary or sports reporting.