Forced to play in exile due to the war in the 1991/92 season, the Serbian team played seven home matches under Fernando Martín and a matchup with the Fuenlabrada club whose legacy survives three decades later.
“They offered us to host three Yugoslav teams, and we chose Partizan because it was the youngest and most connected with the people here,” recalls José Quintana, then mayor and today president of Urbas Fuenlabrada basketball club.
In mid-April 1992, while most of Spain mourned Joventut Badalona’s misfortune, Fuente de las Escaleras in Fuenlabrada—opened only five years earlier—was packed with devoted fans. Anywhere from eight hundred to a thousand spectators filled the venue, a number that captured the town’s growing basketball fever.
That day marked the European Cup final, the competition known then as the FIBA Europa League and today recognized as the Euroleague, a symbol of European basketball supremacy.
When it looked as though Joventut Badalona might seal the win after decades of devotion in Badalona, Sasha Djordjevic delivered a dramatic three-pointer with just three seconds left, lifting Partizan Belgrade to a 70-71 victory and crowning them European champions.
Whispers about a Yugoslav curse lingered, given that in years past (1985, 1990, 1991, 1992) a team from the former republic had defeated a Spanish opponent in the final. Yet for Fuenlabrada, Partizan’s first and only top-tier continental title felt personal: a victory that indirectly belonged to the city south of Madrid as well. A replica of the trophy rested in Istanbul today, while the Fernando Martín Pavilion—located a mere 500 meters from Fuente de las Escaleras—stood as the landmark of that historic night, remembered by hundreds who claim the triumph as their own.
The arc of that era had forced Fuenlabrada to become a second home to the ballclub. The Balkan war pushed the Yugoslav teams to relocate, and Fuenlabrada embraced them as guests and ambassadors. The town’s basketball profile rose as the city earned six wins in seven games that season, consolidating its place on the European map.
Demographic Explosion
Yet the story begins much earlier with what Quintana described as the “demographic explosion that made Fuenlabrada the youngest city in Europe.” The town welcomed about 6,300 births annually (as Quintana, the longtime mayor and current club president, noted), transforming a community around a new sporting identity. In the early 1970s, the population was modest; by the early 1990s, it surged toward 150,000, turning the city into a hub of families seeking a modern, family-friendly environment.
The birth surge, alongside the influx of residents from Madrid’s hinterland and other regions, created a pressing need for family-centered amenities, including robust youth sports programs. The idea was simple: build a community through sports where kids could grow up with role models and a sense of belonging. The choice was not just about football. The city aimed to create a premier sports venue that would anchor kids, parents, and schools around a common dream.
To this end, the city chose to celebrate a homegrown hero, Ferdinand Martín, naming a pavilion in his honor. Discussions around the venue included the hope that a dedicated sports complex would attract leading teams and provide a platform for local youth to engage with elite athletes. The plan unfolded as the city secured a stable venue that would host both basketball and handball events, even as negotiations with major institutions continued.
As a temporary solution to the wartime displacement, FIBA allowed Yugoslav teams to play abroad. Partizan and other teams sought new homes, and the town of Fuenlabrada emerged as a natural fit for a partnership rooted in mutual growth and shared identity.
Dorna’s Role
Dorna, a Spanish company renowned for organizing MotoGP, became a stable partner for FIBA in terms of branding, sponsorship, and television rights. Their task was to locate a steady home for these displaced teams, and Fuenlabrada became a frontrunner. The initial offer was to host any of the three teams, and the town council, weighing options, judged Partizan to be the most compatible choice because of their youth and potential for strong local identification, Quintana explains.
With the decision made, Partizan’s management and a remarkably young coach moved to Madrid. Zeljko Obradovic, a name that would later become synonymous with European dominance, began his European coaching journey in Fuenlabrada. His leadership would eventually set a record as one of the most successful coaching careers in continental basketball history, spanning nine EuroLeague titles with five different teams.
Beyond the numbers, Obradovic’s approach underscored a philosophy of openness: players and staff were welcomed into the community with a spirit that encouraged engagement, education, and collaboration. Quintana recalls that Partizan wanted to be part of the city’s fabric, to be visible in schools and public events, and to integrate with Fuenlabrada’s people—an alignment that proved critical to the franchise’s enduring bond with the town.
Partizan’s early stay in Madrid saw them play seven European Cup group-stage games, hosting matches and training sessions that brought them into daily contact with local fans and students. The atmosphere at those games was electric, with many residents adjoined to the team’s cause, creating a sense that this was more than a visit—it was a meaningful exchange that would shape the city’s basketball culture for years to come.
The young Serbian team quickly connected with Fuenlabrada, and the arena’s capacity constraints only amplified the energy when more people sought to witness the “Partizan in Fuenlabrada” era. The local enthusiasm broadened beyond the arena, with fans following the team to European stops and building a shared memory around a once-in-a-generation moment.
The impact endured: in the following seasons, Fuenlabrada developed a robust basketball ecosystem that helped the club reach the top levels of Spanish basketball for decades. The city’s inhabitants learned to identify with this team, seeing in it a reflection of their own growth and resilience—an emblem of a place that embraced big dreams and bold moves.
Today, the legacy of those months remains visible in the city’s ongoing passion for the game. Urbas Fuenlabrada marks the 30th anniversary of its historic clash with Monbus Obradoiro with a photographic exhibition and a replica of Partizan’s European Cup, commemorating a moment when a small city became a beacon for European basketball. The events also include a commemorative match against Partizan with a nod to the 1992 season, reinforcing a connection that continues to inspire both towns and fans alike.
The story ends not with a single triumph, but with a lasting dedication to basketball as a communal experience that binds a city together. As Quintana notes, the relationship with Partizan and Zeljko Obradovic remains active, a reminder that friendship and sport can cross borders and years, leaving a legacy that transcends trophies and dates.
In the end, the Fuenlabrada chapter is a testament to the power of sport to unite a community, uplift a city, and forge an enduring bond between people and teams across Europe. The tale is less about a final and more about the shared journey that followed—a journey that, for a generation of fans, will always feel like home.