The final moment in the Croatia-Greece game has been seared into my mind and heart, and I don’t think it will ever leave.
A giant of a man, with a towering 2.11m frame and 110kg of muscle, dove to the court like a football goalkeeper, determined to claim the ball that had just slipped from an opponent’s grasp. This happened at a time when victory was already within reach for our beloved national team, cheered on by all of Greece and Cyprus.
It was a moment when fatigue would typically prevent such acrobatics, especially for someone of his stature. It was a true reflection of his passion for the national team and his desire to see the blue and white colours flying high at the Paris Olympics.
A few minutes later, the game ended, and our heroes, dressed in blue, embraced as one. They had done it—for the fourth time, Greece’s national basketball team would be heading to the Olympic Games, the pinnacle of any athlete’s dreams. But amidst this joyous tangle of bodies, the behemoth known as Giannis quietly slipped away. He retreated to a seat, buried his face in his hands, and wept uncontrollably. Not even the presence of his young son, dressed in matching blue, could stem the tide of his tears. The boy stood there, looking on awkwardly, unsure of how to comfort his father.
It matters not what precise thoughts triggered Giannis’ tears. Perhaps it was a release of the passion he held within, or the culmination of a journey riddled with injuries, now overcome, allowing him to contribute to his team’s success. Maybe it was the taste of victory, long-awaited, having borne the weight of expectation in previous years when many assumed that this NBA god among men would single-handedly carry Greece to the top. The pressure, the burden, the responsibility—all unfairly laid upon him—had been too much to bear.
What matters is this: this young man, with his dark skin and Nigerian surname, bled for Greece. He fought with the same passion, if not more, as his Greek teammates. This is the same man who, upon entering the NBA, faced accusations from some quarters that he was making excuses to avoid playing for Greece.
And here’s the remarkable thing: the cameras captured other unique moments that demand our respect. They showed his brother, Thanasis, who was unable to join the national team due to injury, living every moment of the game from the stands. He celebrated, he mourned missed baskets and he embodied the spirit of Greece in his heart.
Giannis, we weep with you because your life story is a fairy tale and a lesson to us all. You rose from a childhood where food on the table was not a given, to the pinnacle of your sport, through hard work and determination. You endured racist bullying as a teenager, yet you emerged as a king in your own right. You, the boy who once sold CDs to support your parents’ efforts to raise five children, never let negative feelings take root in your heart. You, the poor kid from Sepolia, whose coach paid for your sandwiches and taxi fares so you could train, now earn 27.5 million dollars a year, yet you remain humble and true to your roots.
We weep with you, Giannis because you are teaching the world its most important lesson: there are no illegal people, only human beings. It is not the colour of one’s skin, one’s race, or nationality that defines us, but the heart, the soul, our manners, our behaviour, our virtues, our values, and the quality of our character.
We weep, too, because you are rubbing racism in the face of every fascist. Those who dared to wound you with their prejudice, those who wanted you out of Greece, those who denied you citizenship and a passport until you were 18, despite being born in this country, despite dressing as a traditional Greek soldier for school events, despite being a flag-bearer in parades—they saw only the colour of your skin and ignored the colour of your heart.
What irony, then, that now, they will all see you as Greece’s flag-bearer, the first athlete to enter the opening ceremony. A black man with a Nigerian surname, more Greek than many who claim that title solely through the accident of birth. A true Greek is one who carries Greece in their heart, who pours their soul into making it great, and who does not hesitate, despite their towering height and weight, to dive for a simple ball.
Thank you, Giannis, for everything. Whether you bring home a medal from Paris or not, you have already won the greatest prize: our love and respect.
