What We Are Made Of
October arrived not as a fresh page, but as another test. Every match felt like we were stitching together a team from bruises, fatigue, and improvisation. Players out of position, exhausted bodies, patched-up lineups but something had changed in the group.
They believed.
They understood.
No more square pegs in round holes, every rotation now felt like a seamless shift in a system they all owned.
And no symbol of this evolution shines brighter than Tissera. The man who stepped into Chiquichano’s shadow and refused to let it swallow him.
Huracán 4–2 Aldosivi: The New Order Takes Shape
A perfect example of our transformation.
23 minutes in, De la Fuente to Tissera, 1–0.
Two minutes later, 1–1. A punch in the chest, but we stayed calm.
After halftime, our new partnership returned: De la Fuente fed Tissera again. 2–1.
Then Waller slipped De la Fuente through, 3–1.
And then, for the third time, De la Fuente supplied Tissera, who completed his hat trick. 4–1.
A moment of pure control.
A moment where I looked at the team and thought: They finally see what I see.
We conceded late, but saw out the match.
Up to 4th. Four games to go. Boca still leading but we were alive.
Huracán 2–4 Barracas Central: The Wall We Hit
Rotation.
Fatigue.
Heavy legs and heavier minds.
Five minutes in, Pereyra returned from injury to give us a 1–0 lead.
Then a tired Meza pass cost us in transition. 1–1.
Then 1–2 before halftime.
We fought to 2–2 through Miljevic.
But the tank was empty. Barracas hit back immediately. Then once more in stoppage time.
A painful defeat.
It felt like one game too many.
A moment where I feared the season might crack.
Copa Argentina – Full Rotation, Full Heartbreak
Godoy Cruz 1–1 Huracán (6–5 pens)
We made the bold choice: full rotation.
Galíndez, Pereyra, Alanis, Guidara, Pérez, Ríos, Babino and sixteen academy boys filling out the squad. A bold gamble, but a necessary one. The semifinal loomed large and my senior players needed oxygen.
Six loanees Zabala, Ojeda, Tissera, Urzi, Gimenez and Goitea would return to their clubs soon.
The door would open for our youth. This was their audition.
In the 44th minute, three of those youngsters combined before Díaz slipped Alanis through for 1–0.
They equalised with the last kick of the match.
Penalties.
A heroic performance, but a cruel ending: 6–5 in sudden death.
Still, I left proud. A glimpse of Huracán’s future.
Central Córdoba (SdE) 1–2 Huracán: The Response of a Contender
With the senior team rested, we needed a statement.
22 minutes in, Tissera again.
27 minutes, Guidara with a rare but vital goal.
They pulled one back late, but we held strong.
A professional, disciplined victory.
Up to 3rd.
Two games left.
Boca and Racing one point ahead, each with a game in hand.
Copa Sudamericana Semifinal, First Leg
The stadium vibrated with noise. Quito is a cauldron, high altitude, hostile crowd, suffocating pressure.
I told the players:
“Do not fear the environment. Force it to fear you.”
I just wanted to be alive for the second leg.
What I got instead was a performance that will live forever.
44’ — Miljevic silences the stadium.
59’ — Miljevic again, ruthless.
61’ — Miljevic assists Tissera. 3–0.
A dream.
We left the field stunned, not by the noise, but by our own courage.
I planned to rotate against Defensa.
But after a night like that?
No.
We kept the momentum.
Huracán 1–1 Defensa y Justicia
Ibáñez put us in front on 39 minutes.
But on 77 minutes they equalised and we shared the points.
Not ideal but we had bigger things on the horizon.
Copa Sudamericana Semifinal, Second Leg
A three-goal advantage.
But cups have long memories.
I refused complacency.
16 minutes — Miljevic squares to De la Fuente. 1–0 (4–0).
34 minutes — Quito strike 1-1 (4-1)
Just before halftime — Cabral restores our four-goal cushion. 2-1 (5-1)
72 minutes — They score again. 2–2 on the night, 5–2 on aggregate.
Then
Ramírez, fresh off the bench, touches the ball for the first time in the 88th minute…
…and scores.
3–2.
6–2 on aggregate.
WE ARE IN THE FINAL.
What It Means to Reach the Final
When the whistle blew, I didn’t run. I didn’t jump.
I stood still, closed my eyes and let the noise wash over me.
I thought of Chiquichano, injured and watching from home.
I thought of the players who left on loan, of the academy kids who wore the shirt with courage.
I thought of Ibáñez limping into my office weeks ago, begging to be on the bench just to feel part of it.
We have been stitched together by adversity.
We have been bruised, doubted, rotated, stretched, patched up and pushed beyond exhaustion.
Yet here we are, Huracán in a continental final.
This isn’t a story of talent.
It’s a story of belief.
A story of unity.
A story of a group who finally discovered the meaning of suffering together and rising because of it.
For me, after everything I lived as a player, after all the battles, all the stadiums, all the goals…
this achievement feels different.
More fragile.
More precious.
I feel proud.
I feel humbled.
And above all, I feel hungry.
October in Review: A Month of Identity
October gave us fatigue.
Injuries.
Rotations.
Heartbreak in the cup.
A painful league defeat.
Moments where the season felt ready to fracture.
But it also gave us belief.
It gave us a 3–0 masterclass in Quito.
A semifinal triumph built on courage.
A team transformed from patchwork to purpose.
We finish the month battered but unbroken.
Still hunting in the league.
Still dreaming in South America.
Still writing our story.
Next month, the final awaits.
And Huracán this tired, beautiful, resilient team will step into it with fire in our hearts.
The Gaffers Lounge 
Leave a comment