HURACÁN’S NIGHT OF REDEMPTION

By Mateo Ledesma – Revista Fútbol Federa

When Gabriel Batistuta accepted the Huracán job in January 2025, the appointment was met with more curiosity than confidence. A legendary striker taking on his first senior managerial role in the Argentine top flight? It felt romantic, even brave—but few truly believed it would work at the scale he promised.

Eleven months later, under the lights of the General Pablo Rojas in Paraguay, the same man lifted the Copa Sudamericana trophy, guiding Huracán to their first international title in 113 years of existence.

This is the story of how he did it, what it means, and why many—including myself—must revise everything we thought we knew about Batistuta’s managerial potential.

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A COMPLEX BEGINNING: FROM CONFUSION TO CLARITY

Batistuta’s early days at Huracán were defined by tactical experimentation and public skepticism. Pre-season in Colombia delivered no wins from four matches, sending alarm bells ringing through Parque Patricios. The team looked rigid, uncertain, overwhelmed by the new tactical demands.

Batistuta brushed off concerns with trademark stoicism.

He spoke of “building foundations,” of “changing the internal culture,” of “teaching courage before tactics.”

To most, it sounded like the rhetoric of a coach out of his depth.

Inside La Quemita, something else was happening. Players later admitted that training instantly became more intense, more tactical, more demanding. Sessions focused on aggressive vertical transitions, wing overloads, and pressing patterns that mirrored Batistuta’s own playing philosophy—direct, ruthless, uncompromising.

It didn’t show early. But it was growing.

Quietly. Patiently.

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THE INJURY STORMS – AND THE BIRTH OF BELIEF

No season in recent Argentine memory has cursed a team with more injuries than Huracán’s 2025 campaign.

• Ibáñez – weeks out.
• Pérez – sidelined by illness.
• Guidara – hamstring.
• Chiquichano – the heartbreak: a season-ending torn meniscus.
• And finally Tissera – a broken shoulder on the eve of the final.

Every time Batistuta found balance, fate removed a piece from the table.

And yet—this adversity produced the defining trait of Huracán’s campaign: collective resilience.

Players who began the year invisible became indispensable:

• Sebastián Meza grew from backup to continental hero.
• Miljevic, signed without fanfare, became a midfield revelation.
• Waller, once a rotation player, turned into a big-moment weapon.
• Ramírez, forgotten for most of the season, led the line on the biggest night in club history.

What looked like crisis became the fuel for unity.
What looked like weakness became identity.

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THE TACTICAL EVOLUTION OF BATISTUTA

Batistuta’s transformation as a coach is perhaps the most fascinating subplot of this campaign.

1. The Vertical Triangle

Huracán’s midfield—Pérez, Gil, Miljevic—formed a staggered trio that allowed the team to progress with speed while maintaining rest defense. Miljevic’s late-season explosion gave Batistuta the creative outlet his system needed.

2. The Wing Dominance

Few teams in the tournament used their wingbacks as aggressively as Huracán.
Ibáñez and De La Fuente didn’t just overlap; they overloaded. They inverted. They created numerical superiority everywhere.

3. The Defensive Spine

Despite the chaos of injuries, the partnership of Paz and Carrizo became one of the tournament’s most reliable duos. Batistuta’s trust in their bravery—defending forward, stepping into tackles, risking interceptions—gave Huracán its distinctive intensity.

4. The Transition Machine

Huracán’s ability to counter was not accidental. Every training drill—every pattern, every movement—aimed to strike quickly. The third goal in the final, Meza’s long throw turning into Cabral’s break and Waller’s finish, is the purest representation of the manager’s philosophy.

In short:
Huracán played football with personality. With fire. With Batistuta’s fingerprints all over it.

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THE FINAL: A MASTERCLASS IN COURAGE

Flamengo arrived in Paraguay with star power—Arrascaeta, Jorginho, Allan, Pedro, Samuel Lino—names built for finals. On paper, they were favorites. On grass, they were overrun.

The match was electric from the opening whistle. Within two minutes, both sides had taken shots on target. The tempo was absurd, unsustainable… unless you were Huracán.

Their aggression wasn’t reckless; it was rehearsed.

The Disallowed Warning

Miljevic’s early tap-in was denied, but the move showed something important:
Huracán weren’t intimidated.
They weren’t retreating.
They were hunting.

Ibáñez’s Rocket – 1–0

A sweeping move, Bisanz low cross, Miljevic dummy, Ibáñez arriving like a freight train—this was a goal carved from identity.

Cabral’s Strike – 2–0

A set-piece transition, surgical movements, a perfect finish.

Waller’s Kill Shot – 3–0

A moment born from Meza’s intelligence and Cabral’s courage—a sequence straight out of Batistuta’s training ground.

Flamengo couldn’t cope.
Couldn’t breathe.
Couldn’t adapt.

This wasn’t an upset.
It was a statement.

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BATISTUTA’S LEGACY BEGINS

The final whistle confirmed the unimaginable:

Huracán – Copa Sudamericana Champions.

A sentence that changes the club forever.

Batistuta didn’t just win a trophy.
He gave the institution identity.
He gave the squad belief.
He gave the fans pride.

He took a team that spent years searching for direction and built something coherent—something fierce, something emotional, something historic.

His players understood it too:
Five Huracán men named in the Sudamericana Team of the Year—Ibáñez, Carrizo, De La Fuente, Gil, Miljevic.

Warriors forged under a new standard.

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THE HEARTBREAK THAT FOLLOWED

Three days later, exhausted and human once again, Huracán stumbled against Tucumán in the Clausura playoffs. A 2–2 draw, a late equaliser, and defeat on penalties—familiar pain.

But this time, the sting didn’t diminish the achievement.
The glory in Paraguay was too fresh, too powerful.
The domestic exit didn’t erase anything—it simply reminded us of the road still ahead.

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A FINAL WORD: A PUBLIC APOLOGY

As journalists, we are told to remain objective, skeptical, distant.
But after what I witnessed this season, objectivity feels inadequate.

At the start of the year, I doubted Gabriel Batistuta.
I doubted his tactical acumen.
I doubted his ability to adapt.
I doubted the project he promised Huracán supporters.

And I was wrong.

Not slightly wrong.
Not politely wrong.
Utterly, completely, embarrassingly wrong.

Batistuta has proven himself not just a leader, not just a motivator, but a manager of substance, intelligence, and courage. He has delivered a transformation few thought possible.

So to Batistuta, to his staff, to Huracán supporters:

I apologise.
I underestimated the man.
I underestimated the team.
I underestimated the dream.

This Copa Sudamericana title isn’t just a trophy—it is the birth of something real.

And now, the entire continent is watching.

— Mateo Ledesma, Revista Fútbol Federa