September: A Month of Pain, Resolve and the Night We Became a Team

September began not with football, but with the sound of a door closing.

We survived the transfer window with our squad intact, only for fate to undo us within days. First came the blow I feared but thought we could absorb: Ibáñez out for four weeks. Our flying wing back, unavailable for three league fixtures and both legs against Cruzeiro. Then, as if the universe wanted to test the thickness of our skin, Leonel Pérez was ruled out for three weeks with a virus.

But nothing prepared me for what followed.

Chiquichano: A Season Interrupted, A Dream Postponed

Matías Chiquichano. Our spark. Our star. Our identity in motion.

The medical report felt like a betrayal: torn lateral meniscus, six months out. His season over.

I read it twice. Then a third time. It still didn’t make sense.

This was the boy who lit up the early months of our journey.
The one who embraced Menotti’s ideas with a purity I haven’t seen since my playing days.
A forward who played with fury, humility and imagination, pressing like a man possessed, creating chances where none existed, scoring goals that changed the shape of matches.

Seven goals. Seven moments where he made the impossible feel inevitable.
A breakout season transformed into a cruel interruption.

The next morning, I gathered my staff. We sat in silence at first.
Then one question hung over the room:

Do we have another?

After a long discussion, debate and more silence—we chose Tissera to lead the line. Not with pressure. With opportunity.

And football, in its strange way, wasted no time responding.

---

Racing 2–2 Huracán: A Fight for Identity

We play Top of the league. Injured squad. A patched-up XI.

Alanis at left wing-back. Ríos back into midfield. Tissera leading the line.
Babino, Riegel, Samaniego—each stepping in where needed.

Racing struck first in the 19th minute.
We struck back one minute later. Tissera, our chosen replacement—repaying faith immediately.

When he scored again in the 62nd minute, I allowed myself a moment of pride. Not hope, just pride.
But football rarely lets you breathe for long. A Lescano mistake. A penalty. 2–2.

Still, the point felt like a win. A squad held together by tape and belief refused to break.

---

Copa Libertadores – Quarterfinal, First Leg

Huracán 1–3 Cruzeiro

Kaio Jorge did to us what only truly elite forwards can do, he dictated the night.

Two goals. Both ruthless. Both reminders of the level we aspire to reach.

At halftime my players walked to the dressing room like men carrying something heavier than fatigue. I made three changes, not for the scoreboard, but for dignity.

Miljevic pulled one back.
Then Carrizo, rattled, turned the ball into his own net.

1–3. The tie wasn’t over, but we would need something rare and fierce in Brazil.

That night, Daniel Vega called.
Milton Ríos signed a new three-year deal.
A squad player who is now a vital part of our evolution.

Small victories matter.

---

Huracán 2–1 Independiente Rivadavia

A chance to heal, even temporarily.

De la Fuente to Bisanz—1–0.
A setback at 1–1.
Then Tissera to Miljevic—2–1.

Not dominant. Not elegant. But controlled, professional, and necessary.

One more match before Brazil. One more reminder that resilience is a habit.

---

The Night Everything Changed: Copa Libertadores – Quarterfinal, Second Leg

The greatest night of my managerial life.

Before the game, my staff and I debated two plans:

Stay in the match and strike late?
Or press first, strike fast and let bravery be our guide?

We chose courage.

Ibáñez appeared at training the day before. Not fit. Not ready.
But he asked—begged—to be on the bench.

“For the team, míster. In case you need me.”

That sentence alone told me what kind of night it could be.

The Match

2nd minute:
Cabral hits the post. The ball rolls across the goal line.
Tissera taps it in.

1–0. Hope.

21st minute:
Cabral again. This time, clean. A thunderbolt.

2–0. The tie is level.

Before we could process it

22nd minute:
De la Fuente breaks the line, stays composed, and fires home.

3–0. We lead.

And then

24th minute:
Tissera, the man who began this month as a question mark, delivers a perfect cross.
Miljevic rises, head to ball, ball to net.

4–0.

Four goals in 24 minutes.
In Brazil.
Against Cruzeiro.
With half a squad missing and an entire continent assuming we were already eliminated.

At halftime, the dressing room was silent.
Not out of fear, but awe.

Cruzeiro thought they found a lifeline in the 56th minute.
Offside. Relief. Focus restored.

When the full-time whistle blew in the 94th minute, I roared.
Not for the scoreline alone, but for every player who stepped beyond the limits of who they believed they were.

Tissera.
Miljevic.
Alanis.
Waller.
Meza.

Players who once waited for minutes—now delivering history.

We won the tie 5–3 on aggregate.
And we marched into the semifinals of the Copa Libertadores.

Liga de Quito awaits next month.
The other semifinal: Flamengo vs Independiente del Valle.

But that is October’s story.

---

Banfield 0–1 Huracán

The last game of a draining month.

Guidara ruled out with a hamstring strain.
A tired squad.
A heavy week behind us.

But again, Miljevic from a De la Fuente cross.
Again, discipline, effort, and commitment carried us.

A 1–0 win.
Up to 5th in the league after 10 matches.
Still chasing Racing and Boca.

---

Closing Thoughts

September tried everything to break us.

Injuries. Absences. Fatigue.
And the cruel loss of Chiquichano, our brightest flame.

But football rewards those who endure.

And on that night in Brazil, when the world expected our elimination, my players delivered something sacred.

Not just victory.

Identity.

Huracán is no longer a team searching for itself.
We found ourselves, together, in the adversity of this month.

And now, we move forward, with belief that feels like destiny.