Every several years, I take advantage of Pounding the Rock’s unlimited travel budget. In 2016, I travelled to Vancouver, British Columbia to see if the locals still cared about the NBA after the league abandoned the city to move the team to Memphis.
The short answer — nope. The shorter answer — no. As I reported:
However, my trip showed what happens when a city loses a franchise — they no longer care as much about the sport.
Indeed, during my four days in Vancouver, not a single person noted my Spurs gear. Even more amazingly, I didn’t see a single person — even kids — wearing any NBA gear. No Curry #30, Lebron #23, or Kobe #24. Not even a Steve Nash jersey, even though he grew up in Vancouver.
All that being said, Vancouver is a beautiful, clean and friendly city with great food. One of North America’s best ski areas, Whistler Mountain, is just out of town. Everyone should visit Vancouver at least once. Just don’t bother expecting to strike up a conversation with the natives simply by wearing the silver and black. Hockey gear would serve you much better.
The next year I travelled to Australia, at the time the birthplace of 8 NBA players, the third most of any non-USA country behind Canada and France.
Armed with this information, I ventured into the wild outback of downtown Sydney and the Gold Coast of Australia to conduct my inquiry. My research included wearing my Spurs gear as often as possible in order to see if people responded, and visiting various pubs so I could “interview” the local bartenders on the subject. The pub visits were especially helpful, though the results were not that favorable.
Once again, I discovered that the NBA is not nearly as popular outside of the US as one would hope. Interest in New Zealand was even lower, though the Kiwis did care about their lone player (at the time) — Steven Adams. However, before the trip ended, I located a true Spurs fan:
Finally, at the same airport where I had the picture taken with a faux Patty Mills at the top of this piece, I found success. Noting my Spurs hat and shirt, an observant youngish fellow working at the airport asked, “Are you a Spurs fan?” It turns out that young Andrew’s mother had given him a David Robinson #50 jersey when Andrew was 8 years old. He has been a Spurs fan ever since – so much so that he travels the 7,000 miles on a fourteen hour flight from Australia to Texas every season to catch a Spurs home game. Each year, Andrew makes that flight, goes to a game, stays overnight – and flies back home to Australia.
So even though I located only one Spurs fan in the Land Down Under, I sure found a good one. If any of you wind up sitting next to an Aussie bloke at a Spurs game, make sure to ask him if he is Andrew, Australian Spurs Fan of the Year. If he is, make sure to say “G’Day Mate!”, and buy him an American beer. He deserves it.
Perhaps that one bright spot to my otherwise disappointing trip to the Land Down Under supplied me with enough resolve to venture forth once more into the world. (That, and the PtR unlimited travel budget mentioned above.) The obvious destination: France, home of Tony Parker, Boris Diaw and — of course — Victor Wembanyama. I assumed that this Spursian French threesome, and the 2024 Olympics in which Victor displayed his skills to the world, would lead to numerous sightings of Spurs fans and gear.
As we exited the Paris airport, the worker in charge of shuttling arriving visitors onto their taxi or and Uber (pronounced “Uber” in French) noted my Spurs hat and commented, “Ah, San Antonio!” with a big smile. An auspicious start.
Later that day, we visited the Eiffel Tower, surrounded by vendors selling all types of souvenirs. One fellow had an array of hats with “PARIS” emblazened on them. As I walked by he asked if I wanted a hat. I responded by pointing at my Spurs hat — he laughed and shouted, “I want that one!” Things were looking up, like looking at the Tower itself:
Apple Photos Clean Up
But from that moment on, nothing. We did not see a single indication that the potential best player in the world hails from Paris, France and had played on their local team just a few years back. No merchandise sponsored by Victor. Other than when I looked in a mirror, I did not see anyone wearing Spurs gear, nor anything celebrating the French National team that won the silver medal in the Paris Olympics less than twelve months earlier — with the stadium singing the French national anthem after the team’s heroic effort in the gold medal game against the powerful USA squad.
Indeed, Europeans seem to not wear anything reflecting sports teams, even the local soccer teams. Even though the French Open was happening, the only reflection of that was the presence of a few of the tennis players in our hotel.
For USA major leagues, one guy in downtown Paris sported a Golden State Warriors hat. A kid whose suitcase had a Canada sticker wore a Toronto Blue Jays hat, and a college-aged guy on a park bench had a North Carolina sweatshirt — not even an NC basketball sweatshirt, but I was getting desperate.
Finally, we located a sportswear store. Surely I would find NBA product, a Wembanyama Spurs #1 shirt or my actual goal: a Wembanyama Metropolitans 92 jersey. Instead, the ONLY team based gear in the entire store was this:
Other than those hats, all the sports gear with a logo said only Nike, Adidas or other company names. No, I did not buy any of them. I was already wearing my Spurs Family silver and black shirt, with my trusty Spurs hat. I certainly did not need to spend a bunch of Euros on an Under Armor t-shirt.
Downcast, I sought refuge in my go-to respite while traveling: the closest gelato stand.
Then, a miracle happened — and not just the wonderful pistachio gelato. The young Frenchmen behind the counter greeted me with “Hey, great Spurs shirt!” My face lit up like a Christmas tree. Young Leo was an actual Spurs fan, “spurred on” by Leo’s Wemby fandom. He was excited to tell me that he had even attended the first Spurs Pacers game in January this season. The Spurs won big 140-110 over the possible 2024-25 NBA champions, with Victor scoring 30.
I told Leo I would be writing about him, and here it is, written in Charles DeGaulle Airport on our way out of France. As I departed Leo’s gelato establishment, I said “Go Spurs!” and he corrected me, “Go Spurs Go”.
I recognize this sounds somewhat like the end of my trip to Australia 8 years and 10,000 miles away, but the next time you are in Paris, make sure to locate and visit Amorino Gelato Naturale. Wear some Spurs gear, and ask for Leo.