Jorge’s voice came before the knock, hurried, a little too eager.
“Boss, boss!”

“Come in, Jorge,” I said, not lifting my eyes from the tactical notes spread across my desk.

He stepped in holding his phone, already unlocked, already positioned on the article he wanted me to see.
“Boss… have you read Mateo Ledesma’s piece in Revista Fútbol Federal?”

Of course I had. Mateo is never shy. In press conferences he’s like a mosquito in summer, persistent, hovering and impossible to ignore. But I respect him. He pushes hard, asks uncomfortable questions, and in his own way, he cares about the game. About Huracán. About the story.

A lot of what he wrote was fair. The numbers don’t lie, we score plenty, we concede too much. But become more defensive? No.
Absolutely not.

We attack.
We press.
We impose ourselves.
This is my identity, the identity of the club I want to build. I won’t abandon it because the road is bumpy. I won’t hide behind excuses, no transfer window, tired legs, a shallow squad.

It will come good.
We are evolving.

“Yes, Jorge. I’ve read it. Thank you,” I told him.
“Go take the session. We prepare for Banfield and then the Copa Sudamericana.”

El Nacional, Vasco da Gama, Palestino.
Three different nations, three different footballing cultures and one very crowded fixture list. But no complaints. These are the challenges that make clubs grow or break them and I don’t plan on breaking.

Matchday vs Banfield — Changes, Risks, and a Little Bit of Courage

We welcomed Banfield to our stadium under pressure and expectation. I made big changes. When things don’t work, you must trust your instincts.

• Sebastián Meza, 25, promoted to first-choice goalkeeper.
• Daniel Zabala, 22, given the nod over Pereyra at centre-back.
• Ojeda starts as my defensive midfielder; Waller drops out, Pérez moves forward.
• Miljevic starts on the left ahead of Cabral.

Banfield sat 15th, but league positions mean nothing in Argentina. Every team has teeth.

Kickoff — A Slow Start, Then Control

They came at us early, three shots in eight minutes.
We waited until the 10th to strike back.

But once we did, the rhythm returned. The ball started to move. The pressure built.

And in the 33rd minute, the moment arrived.

Miljevic cuts into the box.
Slides it to Chiquichano — the 17-year-old who plays with the brain of a 30-year-old.
Anyone else shoots there. Anyone.
Two defenders sliding in, chaos around him.

But he sees the bigger picture, a simple layoff to De la Fuente, unmarked.
Tap in.
1–0.

We hear the whistle for halftime with control, with authority.

I told them one thing:
“Concentrate. No lapses today.”

Second Half — The Boy Delivers Again

Five minutes in, Bisanz is fouled.
Gil stands over the ball.
A short routine to Chiquichano, who cuts it back…
Gil hits it top corner.
2–0.

Two assists for the kid. Two moments of insight that make you forget he’s barely old enough to drive.

But again, we falter after scoring.
A simple pass, threaded between my centre-backs.
Their striker finishes.
2–1.

I felt the anger rising, not at my players, but at the fragility. The bad habit. The same wound reopening.

Changes, Chaos, and Salvation

With 20 to go:
Guidara on for Ibáñez.
Cabral on for Miljevic.

Then Pereyra for Paz. Waller for Pérez.
Ten minutes left: Alanís replaces Bisanz.

And then release.

83rd minute.
Chiquichano presses like a man possessed. Wins the ball.
Finds De la Fuente.
Cross.
Cabral heads down.
Waller taps in.
3–1.

Relief.

But of course, not without one more twist.

A long ball from their keeper, Pereyra heads it straight to their midfielder, who feeds their winger… cutback… goal.

3–2.
Of course.
Why make anything simple?

But the whistle blew.
And this time, finally it blew for a win.

Not perfect.
Not controlled.
Not peaceful.

But a win.

Press Conference — Mateo Being Mateo

I walked into the press room smiling. Mateo Ledesma sat in his usual seat, eyebrows raised, pen ready.

“Mateo,” I said, “you first.”

“A win, Gabriel,” he began, “but two goals conceded. When will you address the defence?”

I grinned.

“Mateo… a win. Not perfect. A win. Next question.”

Because he’ll get his answer on the pitch, not in a headline.

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We move forward. We prepare for the Sudamericana. We keep attacking.
And the identity — my identity — grows.