The Dream of Reason Produces Monsters… and Goals in the 90th Minute
Ah, football. That sport where eleven guys sweat bullets for 89 minutes so that a sports journalist like me has to invent an epic in one shot. And boy did we invent it. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, Club América little by little is recovering its level, or at least that is what they repeat to us like a mantra until we believe it. After the monumental blush of the National Classic (an event that their fans prefer to file in the “traffic accidents” section), the Eagles have decided that, in fact, they like to win. They have shown hunger, blood, and that desire to show that they can once again be a candidate. Or, in other words, they have remembered how goals are scored just when the referee puts the whistle to his lips.
Today they had to suffer, I mean, shine, against Atlético de San Luis. The Potosí team had built a wall so imposing that one expected to see archers shooting arrows from the battlements. His defense was perfect, until it wasn’t. In a plot twist that M. Night Shyamalan would sign, a high ball, a header from “La Pantera” Zúñiga (who entered the game as if he had just arrived from a cocktail party) and the triumphant arrival of Alex Zendejas were enough to give the victory to those from Coapa. The result? They are fourth in the table with 21 points, but most importantly, confidence has returned. What a fickle thing, trust. He lost with a defeat and returned with a goal in the minute of injury time. Almost nothing.
Barren Domain and a Buffalo in the Dry Dock
America was the team that dominated the match, they took over the field and the ball. That is to say, he had possession of the ball with the same effectiveness with which a small child “possesses” an entire supermarket: much ado about nothing. Having the ball did not mean producing real danger on Andrés Sánchez’s goal. The eleventh that strategist André Jardine fielded, with the absence of his French jewel Allan Saint-Maximin at the beginning, had the intention of being deep. The careers of Brian Rodríguez and Víctor Dávila seemed more like a fashion show than a real offensive: a lot of movement, but little concreteness to feed Rodrigo “El Búfalo” Aguirre.
Speaking of the devil, or the buffalo, the bad news of the first half was his departure. Not due to muscle injury, oh no, that would be too common. Aguirre had to leave the field of play due to a serious inflammation in his left eye, the result of a collision with the rival goalkeeper. One wonders if he was offered a raw steak on the bench or if he simply decided it was a good time to avoid seeing the lack of ideas in attack. His departure, ironically, was América’s best move, as it gave way to the entry of Zendejas.
The Frenchman Distracts, the Mexican Scores
The second part was a sample of… well, more of the same, but with more nerves. Jardine, in a fit of bravery or desperation, made three simultaneous changes. Álvaro Fidalgo, Zúñiga and the long-awaited Saint-Maximin entered. The entry of the Frenchman generated that tickling sensation in the spectator, that hope that a magical player would solve the problem. And, indeed, the team became more dangerous. So dangerous that he even scored a goal that, of course, was disallowed because the ball, with a mind of its own, decided to leave the field before the assist. A perfect metaphor for the afternoon.
While all the spotlights, cameras and commentators’ nerves were focused on Saint-Maximin, on the other side of the area, like a ghost that no one invited to the party, Alex Zendejas appeared. At the right moment, in the precise play, he defined with a quality that contrasted with the previous 90 minutes of gray football. An agonizing, dramatic, and above all, tremendously effective goal. Just the kind of goal that makes managers rub their hands and fans forget the previous 89 minutes of torpor. The Eagles shouted their presence again. What if they have to be taken seriously? After this, there is no choice. At least, until the next setback.
Was it luck or was it character? The eternal question. The only indisputable thing is that the three points travel to Coapa, and the narrative of “America that suffers but wins” has fuel for another week. A hard-fought, sweaty and, above all, late victory. Just the way they like it.
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