I watched the Under-20s this week. A 3–1 win, brilliant, energetic, fearless.
But they are children still. Fifteen, sixteen years old. Raw material, not yet ready for the furnace of the Primera División.
Their time will come.
But not today.

Today, we focus on the present.

Our fourth match in twelve days.
A schedule so brutal it tests not just legs, but identity.

We travel to Tigre.
Three games played, zero wins, one draw.
But a wounded animal bites hardest, I warn the players of this.

Training told me everything: exhaustion.
I gave them two days off.
Sometimes rest is the best tactic.

My assistant approached me with concern about our striker, Leonardo Sequeira—
three games, no goals, no assists.

I listened. Then I told him the truth:
“Without him, the system doesn’t work.”

Cabral doesn’t have three goals in three games.
Bisanz doesn’t score two in three.
Our patterns, our rotations, our Menotti-inspired mechanisms all require him.

The goals will come.
But he already gives us everything.

One change today:
Matko Miljevic starts, Waller rests.
Wanchope returns to the bench, fit, eager, hungry.

Arrival at Victoria

The stadium is full, Tigre fans packed into every corner of the Estadio José Dellagiovanna.
But I wonder… are they also here to see us?
The league leaders.
The surprise.
The storm.

We walk out.
Boos rain down.
Perfect. Let them fuel us.

Kick-off.

A Battle of Wills

Miljevic starts brightly.
Everyone wants to keep their place now.
He knows the competition is fierce.
Sequeira too, he moves sharper, presses harder.
Did he hear the conversation with my assistant?
Or did he simply decide to show who he is?

We dominate.
Possession. Tempo. Territory.

But Tigre fight like a cornered beast.
Hard tackles. Tactical fouls.
Long balls forward met by the iron foreheads of Pereyra and Paz.

Rotation is needed.
But trust… trust is complicated.
I trust this XI completely.
Some on the bench? Not yet.
Not fully.

Halftime.
0–0.

Ibañez looks finished.
He insists he can continue, but his legs tell the truth.
Alanis warms up.
I make the change.

Second half begins.
More fouls.
More disruption.
Tigre grow tired, not from running, but from chasing us.

Yellow card after yellow card.

60 Minutes: The Shift

I make the changes.

Waller for Gil.
Ojeda for Pérez.
Urzi for Cabral.

Three players I trust.

One sub left.
One moment to decide.

The siege continues.
We push more forward.
Tigre drop deeper and deeper.

I make the choice:
Bisanz off.
Wanchope on.

Sequeira moves wide without a word of complaint.
A soldier for the system.

Twenty minutes left.

The Wall Holds

We attack.
We create.
We hammer at their door.

Twenty shots.
Thirteen on target.
Their goalkeeper becomes a superhero.

The final whistle.
0–0.

Disappointing, yes.
But football is like this, sometimes the ball simply refuses to obey.

We remain top of the league.
We remain unbeaten.

A different kind of test today.
Not the underdog mentality.
Not the emotional frenzy of Boca or Estudiantes.
Today we were the favourite and that brings its own pressure.

Another match in three days.
Then finally… a six-day break.

Do I push this tired team once more?
Or rotate and preserve them?
These decisions will define more than one match, they may define our season.

The calendar is relentless.
February is only the beginning.
November is far, far away.

---

Outro: Four Matches, One Identity Emerging

As I sit alone after the match, I think back over my first four league games as manager of Huracán.
Twelve days, three victories, one draw.
Ten goals scored, four conceded.
A team that believes again.
A fanbase that sings again.
A club that feels alive again.

But more than results, I see something deeper taking shape:
the identity.
The principles.
The Menotti spirit, the football of freedom, bravery, and expression.

We are not perfect.
We are not finished.
But in these four matches, I have seen the soul of this team begin to emerge.

And as long as that soul grows,
Huracán will continue to rise.