In Barcelona, there is a popular accusation made against Real Madrid.
Los Blancos, according to most in Catalonia, are the football club that represent the establishment,
the team associated with centralism and conservatism. They were viewed, for decades, as ‘Franco’s
team’. Francisco Franco Bahamonde, more commonly
known as General Franco, ruled Spain from 1939 until his death in 1975. His dictatorship,
which began after his troops stormed Barcelona and brought the three-year long Spanish Civil
War to an end, was marked by the brutal repression of any opposition. Franco led with open totalitarianism,
making decisions exclusively on his terms. Those outside of the capital were marginalised
and resentment, particularly in Barcelona and the Basque country, festered. Inevitably,
this deep political divide found its way into football. Barcelona’s players, coaches and
supporters claimed throughout Franco’s dictatorship that Madrid were unfairly advantaged and used
as a political tool by the regime. In Madrid, this was dismissed as nothing more
than a myth - as a conspiracy conjured by Barcelona to discount Real’s successes throughout
the 1950s and 60s. But those of a Barcelona persuasion were adamant that Franco had a
significant part to play in the rise of one of Europe’s most dominant teams.
“When Barcelona face Madrid it is, according to many culés, the nation against the state,
freedom fighters against General Franco’s fascists, the Spanish Civil War’s vanquished
against its victors – a confrontation represented by the assassination of Barcelona’s president
at the start of the war,” wrote Sid Lowe in his book Fear and Loathing in La Liga.
But as Lowe points out in his history of the rivalry, to label Madrid ‘Franco’s team’
is an oversimplification. The politics were complex and some of the accusations based
on little more than rumour. One story tells of Real Madrid’s signing
of the great Alfredo Di Stéfano in 1953. Barcelona had been interested in the Argentine
and looked almost certain to bring him to Catalonia from Colombian club Millonarios.
That was until his previous club, River Plate, claimed a breach of regulations in the transfer.
Di Stefano even played for the Blaugrana in a friendly, but the move was scuppered, and
he instead joined Madrid, with Barcelona renouncing their rights to the player.
He would go on to win five European Cups in a row with Real Madrid, changing their status
in the game forever. The claim ever since, inevitably, has been that Franco’s influence
the clubs involved led to the breakup of the transfer and allowed Madrid to swoop in.
There is little doubt that Franco used Los Blancos as a way of improving his, and Spain’s,
image during his reign. He regularly attended games throughout the 50s and 60s, watching
on as Di Stéfano inspired his side. Their president, Santiago Bernabéu, had been
installed by Franco immediately after the Civil War. Some viewed him as a puppet of
the regime, and further suspicions were raised when he banned a major Francoist from attending
games. The insinuation was that nobody without close links to Franco would have been able
to get away with that. Bernabéu had been given the go ahead to build a cavernous new
stadium too, which generated the funds to put together such a talented squad.
Franco’s unashamed support of Madrid led to calls of favouritism. Salvador Sadurní,
Barcelona’s goalkeeper during the 60s and 70s, claimed that Madrid were “almost impossible
to beat because they were Franco’s team”. The accusation was that one of Europe’s
best sides were great only because of the despotic leader with the power to influence
things behind the scenes. This was likely exaggerated, although Franco
certainly latched on to the football team that best suited the ideology he intended
to promote: that of centralism and of Castilian traditions. His image behind what was for
many years the best football team in the world was what most concerned the dictator.
“The club’s ‘virile’ technique was meant to reflect the qualities of the diminutive
dictator’s own regime,” wrote Giles Tremlett in his book Ghosts of Spain. “In fact, it
was probably Franco who used Real Madrid, rather than the other way around. It is, however,
still the favourite club of the political right.”
The association is one Madrid have looked to distance themselves from in the years since
Franco’s death. Barcelona, of course, have drawn attention to it. It adds fuel to an
already raging fire, and gives even more of an edge to each clásico.
Barcelona fans still point to the two-legged cup tie between the clubs in 1943, early in
Franco’s regime. The Blaugrana won the first leg 3-0 but were then supposedly paid a visit
by one of Franco’s henchmen. He told Barcelona’s players that only “the generosity of the
regime” allowed them to play in the first place.
It was a subtle hint, and the return leg ended in an 11-1 victory for Madrid. That result,
given the scoreline in the first leg, seems unlikely to have come about without any outside
influence. Again, the legitimacy of the story is unclear, and those involved on both sides
offered different answers to the same question. Barcelona’s suspicions are understandable.
Franco did not hide the fact that he effectively used Madrid’s players as diplomats in his
attempts to build political bridges in Europe. Nor did he hide his disdain for Catalan and
Basque culture. He wanted a united Spain, one that spoke the same language and accepted
the same ruler. Athletic Club were forced to change their name to Atlético Bilbao,
and Barcelona became Barcelona Club de Futbol. Football became a small but effective tool
in Franco’s arsenal. There is no real proof and no tangible evidence
that suggests Madrid were exclusively ‘Franco’s team’. But Spain’s leader did undoubtedly
used football for political leverage. Real Madrid’s history, their rivalry with Barcelona,
the shape of modern Spanish football: without Franco, all of this would look very different.