“I have nothing bad to say about this place. I just need to be somewhere else.” It is in writing now, which changes what Colón can pretend not to have heard.
“I know what people will say. I know what I want, and it is here.” Los Andes had the fee agreed and the shirt ready; they did not have the player, and now they will not.
Terms are settled between the clubs and the rest is paperwork and a photograph. Around Colón they have already started talking about him in the past tense.
Everything agreed with Defensores Unidos, everything agreed with the player; a doctor is the only person left to persuade. The photograph is a day or two away.
He will play here until the summer and then walk out of the door for free, having already signed elsewhere. Supporters will manage the first part of that sentence; it is the second they will struggle with.
Agustín Bono and a teammate said things this week that will take longer than a week to unsay. It was not about football, and both of them play on Saturday.
Somebody said out loud what several people thought about how hard another man trains, and Facundo Castet was in the middle of it. The one dressing-room argument that is genuinely about football.
Fee agreed, wages agreed, and Atlanta waiting with a shirt. Nobody at Colón is pretending otherwise, and the supporters have stopped asking whether and started asking when.
“This is not anger. I have thought about it for months, and nothing that has happened lately changed my mind.” The request is on a desk at Colón, and it is not being withdrawn.
The oldest argument in any dressing room and the only one that is genuinely about football: one man thinks another is not putting enough in. It is also the row a manager privately does not mind having happened.
Every press conference now starts and ends the same way: with Alan Bonansea’s future. The manager has run out of new ways to say nothing.
The terraces17 Dec 2029
Supporters make their feelings known about Matías Córdoba
The speculation has reached the stands, and the stands have answered. Colón would like this settled before it becomes the only thing anybody asks about.
The last thing about a transfer that is still about the player is his signature on his own terms, and it is there. Colón have lost him in all but the paperwork.
“This is not anger. I have thought about it for months, and nothing that has happened lately changed my mind.” The request is on a desk at Colón, and it is not being withdrawn.
“I listened, I thought about it, and I am staying. That is the whole story.” The clubs had agreed a fee. Valentino Albornoz had not agreed to go, which turned out to be the part that mattered.
The rules permit it and it stings anyway. Iván Ojeda has agreed terms with Banfield for the summer, and until then he pulls on this shirt as a player who has already chosen his next one.
Leandro Allende was at the centre of it, and by the time it was pulled apart there were three or four others involved. Training grounds are small places and long seasons make them smaller.
The oldest argument in any dressing room and the only one that is genuinely about football: one man thinks another is not putting enough in. It is also the row a manager privately does not mind having happened.
The embargo bars a fee being paid for a player, whatever the manager thinks the squad needs. Every rumour printed about this club between now and its lifting is a rumour about a deal that cannot happen.
In brief
Transfer targetsA loan move for Agustín Ipoutcha is in the works
The dugoutFacundo Castet has become a man the manager trusts
What was said behind closed doors has now been said in front of a microphone. Everybody at Colón can do the arithmetic, including the man it is aimed at.
Agustín Bono and a teammate said things this week that will take longer than a week to unsay. It was not about football, and both of them play on Saturday.
Somebody said out loud what several people had been thinking. Leandro Allende is at the centre of it, and the squad will now find out whether the standard rises or the pair of them simply stop speaking.
The gap in the accounts was filled from upstairs again. Supporters are entitled to be grateful and to ask what happens the month it is not, and both feelings arrive together.
It has stopped being a mood in the stands and started being something organised. Boards can ignore a bad atmosphere for a long time; they cannot ignore this stage of it for very long at all.
The clubs have agreed terms, and what remains is formality: a medical, a photograph, a signature. Nobody at Colón is pretending he will be back in the shirt.
“This is not anger. I have thought about it for months, and nothing that has happened lately changed my mind.” The request is on a desk at Colón, and it is not being withdrawn.
Agustín Bono was at the centre of it, and by the time it was pulled apart there were three or four others involved. Training grounds are small places and long seasons make them smaller.
Somebody said out loud what several people thought about how hard another man trains, and Leandro Allende was in the middle of it. The one dressing-room argument that is genuinely about football.
Every club in football pays most of what it earns to its players. Paying nearly all of it is a different arrangement, and it has ended the same way every time somebody has tried it.
It has been denied twice and printed three times, which is the usual arithmetic. Until Leandro Allende signs something — a contract at Colón or anywhere else — this column belongs to him.
“It had gone on long enough. I would rather have it out than leave it sitting there.” Ten minutes behind a closed door at Colón, and both men came out saying it was fine.
Position 16 and 31 points, and the table gets read bottom-up in this part of town. The calendar has stopped being a schedule and started being a countdown.
“This is not anger. I have thought about it for months, and nothing that has happened lately changed my mind.” The request is on a desk at Colón, and it is not being withdrawn.
The oldest argument in any dressing room and the only one that is genuinely about football: one man thinks another is not putting enough in. It is also the row a manager privately does not mind having happened.
This is money that keeps the lights on rather than money that buys a centre-half, and the difference is the whole story. A club funded by its owner rather than by its football has exactly one conversation left ahead of it.
It was not about football and everybody who saw it knows that. Two men who have to play together on Saturday said things at Colón this week that will take longer than a week to unsay.
The borrowing is past what the bank agreed, which is the line where a debt stops being how football is financed and starts being a problem. Every phone-in in this town will quote the figure for the next five years.
Every manager keeps a short list in his head of the men he wants on the pitch when the stakes rise, and it is never published. The team sheets for the big afternoons say Facundo Castet is on it.
It will be explained as a change for the team and it may even be one. Nobody who has worn one believes that, and neither does the man who has just had it taken away.
A bad atmosphere can be waited out. A group of people meeting afterwards to decide what to do about it cannot, and everybody in the building knows which stage this is.
“This is not anger. I have thought about it for months, and nothing that has happened lately changed my mind.” The request is on a desk at Colón, and it is not being withdrawn.
The clubs have agreed terms, and what remains is formality: a medical, a photograph, a signature. Nobody at Colón is pretending he will be back in the shirt.
The oldest argument in any dressing room and the only one that is genuinely about football: one man thinks another is not putting enough in. It is also the row a manager privately does not mind having happened.
Every club pays most of what it earns to its players. Paying nearly all of it is a different arrangement, and it has ended the same way every time it has been tried.
It has been denied twice and printed three times, which is the usual arithmetic. Until Leandro Allende signs something — a contract at Colón or anywhere else — this column belongs to him.
“This is not anger. I have thought about it for months, and nothing that has happened lately changed my mind.” The request is on a desk at Colón, and it is not being withdrawn.
The clubs have agreed terms, and what remains is formality: a medical, a photograph, a signature. Nobody at Colón is pretending he will be back in the shirt.
The oldest argument in any dressing room and the only one that is genuinely about football: one man thinks another is not putting enough in. It is also the row a manager privately does not mind having happened.
Franco Necovich and a teammate said things this week that will take longer than a week to unsay. It was not about football, and both of them play on Saturday.
“It had gone on long enough. I would rather have it out than leave it sitting there.” Ten minutes behind a closed door at Colón, and both men came out saying it was fine.
It has been denied twice and printed three times, which is the usual arithmetic. Until Nicolás Thaller signs something — a contract at Colón or anywhere else — this column belongs to him.
What was a back-page link has become a chant, and the chant is not friendly. Colón would rather it were settled quietly, and it has stopped being quiet.
Position 16 and 31 points, and the table gets read bottom-up in this part of town. The calendar has stopped being a schedule and started being a countdown.
“This is not anger. I have thought about it for months, and nothing that has happened lately changed my mind.” The request is on a desk at Colón, and it is not being withdrawn.
It was not about football and everybody who saw it knows that. Two men who have to play together on Saturday said things at Colón this week that will take longer than a week to unsay.
Somebody said out loud what several people had been thinking. Facundo Castet is at the centre of it, and the squad will now find out whether the standard rises or the pair of them simply stop speaking.
This is money that keeps the lights on rather than money that buys a centre-half, and the difference is the whole story. A club funded by its owner rather than by its football has exactly one conversation left ahead of it.
The borrowing is past what the bank agreed, which is the line where a debt stops being how football is financed and starts being a problem. Every phone-in in this town will quote the figure for the next five years.
Four or five weekends of consistency, judged against everybody in the division doing his job. Facundo Aguirre has come out of that comparison in the side, and Colón have had the benefit of every one of those afternoons.
The board’s statement ran to three sentences and one of them mentioned results. Bautista Núñez has managed long enough to translate: win soon, or the next statement is shorter.
Ninety minutes of very little, and then everything at once. The winner arrived in the 88th, and Central Norte spent what remained of the match appealing to the referee rather than chasing the ball.
The oldest argument in any dressing room and the only one that is genuinely about football: one man thinks another is not putting enough in. It is also the row a manager privately does not mind having happened.
The gap in the accounts was filled from upstairs again. Supporters are entitled to be grateful and to ask what happens the month it is not, and both feelings arrive together.
Every club pays most of what it earns to its players. Paying nearly all of it is a different arrangement, and it has ended the same way every time it has been tried.
It was not about football and everybody who saw it knows that. Two men who have to play together on Saturday said things at Colón this week that will take longer than a week to unsay.
Somebody said out loud what several people had been thinking. Leandro Allende is at the centre of it, and the squad will now find out whether the standard rises or the pair of them simply stop speaking.
3 matches, no goals, and a training ground that has tried everything. It will end — droughts always do — but nobody at Colón can tell you which week it ends in.
He used to wear the other shirt. On Saturday he plays against San Martín SJ in this one, and whatever he says this week about it being just another game will be untrue.
The words a physio says slowly. 23 days is what the club will announce and everybody who has heard this diagnosis before knows the number is the least of it: the knee comes back before the player does.
The last thing about a transfer that is still about the player is his signature on his own terms, and it is there. Colón have lost him in all but the paperwork.
It has stopped being a mood in the stands and started being something organised. Boards can ignore a bad atmosphere for a long time; they cannot ignore this stage of it for very long at all.
Leandro Allende was at the centre of it, and by the time it was pulled apart there were three or four others involved. Training grounds are small places and long seasons make them smaller.
Somebody said out loud what several people thought about how hard another man trains, and Facundo Castet was in the middle of it. The one dressing-room argument that is genuinely about football.
The embargo bars a fee being paid for a player, whatever the manager thinks the squad needs. Every rumour printed about this club between now and its lifting is a rumour about a deal that cannot happen.
“It had gone on long enough. I would rather have it out than leave it sitting there.” Ten minutes behind a closed door at Colón, and both men came out saying it was fine.
“I have nothing bad to say about this place. I just need to be somewhere else.” It is in writing now, which changes what Colón can pretend not to have heard.
Terms are settled between the clubs and the rest is paperwork and a photograph. Around Colón they have already started talking about him in the past tense.
Leandro Allende and a teammate said things this week that will take longer than a week to unsay. It was not about football, and both of them play on Saturday.
The oldest argument in any dressing room and the only one that is genuinely about football: one man thinks another is not putting enough in. It is also the row a manager privately does not mind having happened.
“I watch every Colón game from here. That says everything about where my head is.” The loan at Dinamo Batumi runs its course, but his heart never made the trip.
7 goals in one match, Thiago Cicerone on the scoresheet, and a scoreline that will look like a misprint. Neutrals could not have asked more of Colón and Chacarita Juniors.
Loan watch11 Sep 2028
Tomás Paredes’s loan is measured in nothing happening
16 clean sheets from 30 appearances at Portuguesa. That is the whole of a goalkeeper’s job done properly, and it is being done a long way from the club that owns him.
Somebody said out loud what several people thought about how hard another man trains, and Leandro Allende was in the middle of it. The one dressing-room argument that is genuinely about football.
Every club in football pays most of what it earns to its players. Paying nearly all of it is a different arrangement, and it has ended the same way every time somebody has tried it.
A touch he did not want, a bounce he could not have read, and his name in the wrong column. There is no consoling a man after one of these, and Colón will not try tonight.