“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 The request is on a desk at Colón, and it is not being withdrawn.
“Things were said to me before I signed. I am not going to repeat them, but I remember all of them.” Colón have not answered, which is an answer of sorts.
Fee agreed, wages agreed, and Audace Cerignola waiting with a shirt. Nobody at Colón is pretending otherwise, and the supporters have stopped asking whether and started asking when.
“I know what people will say. I know what I want, and it is here.” Polokwane City had the fee agreed and the shirt ready; they did not have the player, and now they will not.
Some afternoons a goalkeeper is the whole of the defence. 6 saves, several of them the kind nobody expects to see made, and ten outfield players who owe him a drink.
The instruction came from the boardroom and the dugout did not agree with it. Somebody will go, the fee will be called good business, and the manager will spend the season rebuilding around the space.
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.
“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.
Somebody said out loud what several people thought about how hard another man trains, and Federico Rasmussen was in the middle of it. The one dressing-room argument that is genuinely about football.
The phone has started ringing about Nehemías Portillo again, and this time the name on the line is Sorrento. Colón are listening politely and promising nothing.
“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.
Fee agreed, wages agreed, and Sumgayit waiting with a shirt. Nobody at Colón is pretending otherwise, and the supporters have stopped asking whether and started asking when.
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. Federico Rasmussen 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.
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.
The offer from Semen Padang for Tomás Paredes was heard out and sent back the same day. First bids are rarely meant to succeed; they are meant to find out how loudly the door closes.
Matías Godoy 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 Federico Rasmussen was in the middle of it. The one dressing-room argument that is genuinely about football.
The phone has started ringing about Elías Santini again, and this time the name on the line is Sumgayit. Colón are listening politely and promising nothing.
“I respect the manager and I am not going to sit here and pretend I am happy.” It is the most common sentence in football and it has never once been the end of a story.
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.
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.
“Things were said to me before I signed. I am not going to repeat them, but I remember all of them.” Colón have not answered, which is an answer of sorts.
“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 offer from Dolomiti Bellunesi for Iván Ojeda was heard out and sent back the same day. First bids are rarely meant to succeed; they are meant to find out how loudly the door closes.
Matías Budiño 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 am grateful for the games, but I did not become a footballer to be somebody else's spare part.” He wants to be at Colón, and 0 appearances in 0 say he has earned the hearing.
The clubs have settled the fee and he has settled his wages. What remains is a medical and a photograph, and around Colón people have started saying his name in the past tense.
“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 phone has started ringing about Nahuel Curcio again, and this time the name on the line is Vicenza. Colón are listening politely and promising nothing.
Somebody said out loud what several people thought about how hard another man trains, and Federico Rasmussen was in the middle of it. The one dressing-room argument that is genuinely about football.
The manager has re-ordered his thinking and Leandro Allende has come out of it lower. He will be told it is temporary, and the players who have heard that before will avoid his eye.
“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.
Fee agreed, wages agreed, and Rosario Central waiting with a shirt. Nobody at Colón is pretending otherwise, and the supporters have stopped asking whether and started asking when.
The rules permit it and it stings anyway. Leandro Zabala has agreed terms with Aldosivi for the summer, and until then he pulls on this shirt as a player who has already chosen his next one.
Fee agreed, terms agreed, medical booked. Leandro Zabala will be somebody else’s player by the weekend, and around Colón the goodbyes have quietly begun.
Cristian Pavón 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 had been thinking. Federico Rasmussen 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.
There is a figure at which a wage bill stops being ambitious and becomes the reason nothing else is possible, and this club has reached it. Nothing is left over for a transfer, a stand or a rainy afternoon.
“I listened, I thought about it, and I am staying. That is the whole story.” The clubs had agreed a fee. Iván Ojeda had not agreed to go, which turned out to be the part that mattered.
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.
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.
It is not a grievance and it is not a demand: he wants to play continental football, and he has stopped hiding it. Whether Colón can give him that is a question about the club, not about him.
Somebody said out loud what several people thought about how hard another man trains, and Federico Rasmussen was in the middle of it. The one dressing-room argument that is genuinely about football.
“I watch every Colón game from here. That says everything about where my head is.” The loan at Fenix runs its course, but his heart never made the trip.
“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.
The clubs have settled the fee and he has settled his wages. What remains is a medical and a photograph, and around Colón people have started saying his name in the past tense.
“Things were said to me before I signed. I am not going to repeat them, but I remember all of them.” Colón have not answered, which is an answer of sorts.
The rules permit it and it stings anyway. Lucas Picech has agreed terms with Belgrano for the summer, and until then he pulls on this shirt as a player who has already chosen his next one.
Fee agreed, terms agreed, medical booked. Juan Ignacio Berasi will be somebody else’s player by the weekend, and around Colón the goodbyes have quietly begun.
“If you cannot run for the shirt, somebody else will wear it.” No name was used and none was needed; every player in that room knew who it was for.
Squad14 Dec 2026
Yéiler Góez falls out with a teammate over standards
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.
Brutal, unambiguous and, for all the horror of the moment, usually less career-shaped than the ligament everybody fears more. 14 days, a clean timeline, and a return date somebody can actually plan around.
Cristian Pavón 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 was told straight, and I would rather have it straight.” The manager at Colón has been clear about where Facundo Castet stands, which is more than many ever get.
“Thirty minutes, door closed, everything said. We shook hands after.” Whatever was in the room stayed in the room, and Matías Godoy trained the next morning like a man with less to carry.
In brief
BoardroomOpen for business: Colón enter the window
Bones knit. That is the one merciful thing about this injury and the reason Colón will talk about it more openly than they would about a knee. He will be back, and roughly when they say.
“Things were said to me before I signed. I am not going to repeat them, but I remember all of them.” Colón have not answered, which is an answer of sorts.
“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.
Cristian Pavón 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 Matías Godoy was in the middle of it. The one dressing-room argument that is genuinely about football.
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.
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 Jorge Sanguina is on it.
Brutal, unambiguous and, for all the horror of the moment, usually less career-shaped than the ligament everybody fears more. 28 days, a clean timeline, and a return date somebody can actually plan around.
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.
“I pick players who do the work. All of it.” No name was spoken; every camera still turned to Matías Budiño, and the manager let it.
Squad23 Nov 2026
Yéiler Góez falls out with a teammate over standards
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 respect the manager and I am not going to sit here and pretend I am happy.” It is the most common sentence in football and it has never once been the end of a story.
A conversation in the manager’s office, and a commitment that came out of it. Promises like that are cheap to make and expensive to break, and Ignacio Antonio has written the date down.
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.
“Thirty minutes, door closed, everything said. We shook hands after.” Whatever was in the room stayed in the room, and Lucas Cuffia trained the next morning like a man with less to carry.
A bone, which is the one injury with a calendar attached. Colón will name a return date and, unusually for this business, will probably be right about it.
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.
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.
“Thirty minutes, door closed, everything said. We shook hands after.” Whatever was in the room stayed in the room, and Matías Budiño trained the next morning like a man with less to carry.
Nothing in writing and nothing in public: a word about playing time, given face to face at Colón. The team sheets over the next month will show whether it was worth having.
Brutal, unambiguous and, for all the horror of the moment, usually less career-shaped than the ligament everybody fears more. 42 days, a clean timeline, and a return date somebody can actually plan around.
Cristian Pavón 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 Federico Rasmussen was in the middle of it. The one dressing-room argument that is genuinely about football.
“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.
Matías Budiño has done the arithmetic and does not like the answer. Nothing corrodes a squad faster, and no club has ever solved it by explaining the wage structure to a footballer.
Nothing in writing and nothing in public: a word about playing time, given face to face at Colón. The team sheets over the next month will show whether it was worth having.
A bone, which is the one injury with a calendar attached. Colón will name a return date and, unusually for this business, will probably be right about it.
Balance sheets do not care about form or about who the manager was planning to build around. The board have decided a sale is required, and the only question left is which name ends up carrying it.
“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.
Cristian Pavón 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.
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 is not a grievance and it is not a demand: he wants to play continental football, and he has stopped hiding it. Whether Colón can give him that is a question about the club, not about him.
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.
Brutal, unambiguous and, for all the horror of the moment, usually less career-shaped than the ligament everybody fears more. 56 days, a clean timeline, and a return date somebody can actually plan around.
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 general version of this complaint is that a player wants more. The specific version names the thing: he wants to walk out under floodlights against clubs from other countries, and he has stopped pretending otherwise.
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.
“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.
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 general version of this complaint is that a player wants more. The specific version names the thing: he wants to walk out under floodlights against clubs from other countries, and he has stopped pretending otherwise.
Somebody said out loud what several people had been thinking. Ignacio Antonio 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.
“I respect the manager and I am not going to sit here and pretend I am happy.” It is the most common sentence in football and it has never once been the end of a story.
Numbers do not stay secret in a dressing room. He is not asking for more than he is worth; he is asking why somebody beside him is worth more, and Colón have no good answer.
Cristian Pavón 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.
“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.
Numbers do not stay secret in a dressing room and never have. He is not asking for more than he is worth; he is asking why somebody beside him is worth more, and at Colón that is a harder question to answer.
Nothing in writing and nothing in public: a word about playing time, given face to face at Colón. The team sheets over the next month will show whether it was worth having.
20 days on the announcement, and a year of quiet, unwatched rehabilitation behind it. Colón lose a player for a season; he loses something harder to name.
“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.
Cristian Pavón 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 had been thinking. Pier Barrios 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.
There is a figure at which a wage bill stops being ambitious and becomes the reason nothing else is possible, and this club has reached it. Nothing is left over for a transfer, a stand or a rainy afternoon.
26 signings in three months. Every one of them may be an upgrade and the team can still be worse for a while, which is the part of a rebuild that never appears in the transfer-window verdicts.
Nobody at Colón will say this on the record and the team sheets have been saying it for weeks. There is a small group in every squad who get picked when the fixture is difficult, and he has joined it.
Another week, another link, another denial nobody quite believes. Colón know the market decides these things, not the back pages — but the back pages are louder.
In brief
The dugoutLucas Cuffia knocks on the manager's door
27 days on the announcement, and a year of quiet, unwatched rehabilitation behind it. Colón lose a player for a season; he loses something harder to name.
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.
Successful dribbles: 20. He went past people as if he had been told there was a prize for it, and by the end the full-back had stopped pretending to try.
Somebody said out loud what several people thought about how hard another man trains, and Mateo Lizondo was in the middle of it. The one dressing-room argument that is genuinely about football.
It needed Alan Bonansea to find the net to bring anything home at all: 1‑1 against Almirante Brown, and half the dressing room will call it a point won.
In brief
The dugoutMatías Budiño knocks on the manager’s door
34 days on the announcement, and a year of quiet, unwatched rehabilitation behind it. Colón lose a player for a season; he loses something harder to name.
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.
Cristian Pavón and a teammate went at it, and not about football. Training grounds are small places and a long season makes them smaller.
Squad21 Sep 2026
Mateo Lizondo falls out with a teammate over standards
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.
“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.
The dugout21 Sep 2026
The manager’s verdict
“I am frustrated, honestly. We did enough to win and we did not win.” Ricardo Muñoz was not hiding it after 0‑0, and nobody in the Colón dressing room was either.
The one version of being left out a player cannot argue with, and the one he takes worst. Somebody else has been better and the team sheet says so, in public, every week until it changes.
Successful dribbles: 37. He went past people as if he had been told there was a prize for it, and by the end the full-back had stopped pretending to try.
Ninety minutes of very little, and then everything at once. The winner arrived in the 89th, and Nueva Chicago spent what remained of the match appealing to the referee rather than chasing the ball.
Player ratings14 Sep 2026
A brace, and Matías Godoy takes the afternoon — 7.88
There is a particular kind of quiet from an away end watching one man score twice. Matías Godoy provided it, and the 7.88 beside his name is if anything generous to everybody else.
“I listened, I thought about it, and I am staying. That is the whole story.” The clubs had agreed a fee. Nahuel Curcio had not agreed to go, which turned out to be the part that mattered.
Cristian Pavón 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 Pier Barrios was in the middle of it. The one dressing-room argument that is genuinely about football.
“If you cannot run for the shirt, somebody else will wear it.” No name was used and none was needed; every player in that room knew who it was for.
The dugout14 Sep 2026
The manager’s verdict
“I am not going to get carried away and I will not let them either. It was a good day. There will be harder ones.” Ricardo Muñoz kept it short after the 2‑1 win, which is what managers do when they are happy.
“It was not right for me. I am not going to explain why to anybody except the people I owe an explanation to.” A deal agreed between two clubs, and a player who declined to be part of it.
“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.
Cristian Pavón 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 Ignacio Antonio was in the middle of it. The one dressing-room argument that is genuinely about football.
25 new signings in one window. Every one may be an upgrade and the side can still be worse for a while, which is the part of a rebuild the verdicts never mention.
In brief
Player ratingsThe afternoon belonged to Ignacio Lago
Rosario Central go through and Colón go home, 1‑3 the scoreline that did it. The dressing room will call the league the priority now, because that is what dressing rooms say.
Fee agreed, wages agreed, and Pro Patria waiting with a shirt. Nobody at Colón is pretending otherwise, and the supporters have stopped asking whether and started asking when.
“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.
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 general version of this complaint is that a player wants more. The specific version names the thing: he wants to walk out under floodlights against clubs from other countries, and he has stopped pretending otherwise.
Somebody said out loud what several people thought about how hard another man trains, and Yéiler Góez was in the middle of it. The one dressing-room argument that is genuinely about football.
3 kept out from twelve yards, and a stadium that will describe each of them for twenty years. A goalkeeper needs one night like this in a career, and this was it.
The rules permit it and it stings anyway. Juan Ignacio Berasi has agreed terms with Platense for the summer, and until then he pulls on this shirt as a player who has already chosen his next one.
The offer from Bnei Yehuda for Gianluca Valdiviezo was heard out and sent back the same day. First bids are rarely meant to succeed; they are meant to find out how loudly the door closes.
Fee agreed, terms agreed, medical booked. Juan Ignacio Berasi will be somebody else’s player by the weekend, and around Colón the goodbyes have quietly begun.
The general version of this complaint is that a player wants more. The specific version names the thing: he wants to walk out under floodlights against clubs from other countries, and he has stopped pretending otherwise.
Squad24 Aug 2026
Pier Barrios falls out with a teammate over standards
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.
“It was not right for me. I am not going to explain why to anybody except the people I owe an explanation to.” A deal agreed between two clubs, and a player who declined to be part of it.
Cristian Pavón 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.
Add another name to the list: Cibalia have asked the question everybody in the game has been asking about Iván Ojeda. The answer from Colón has not changed — yet.
There is no fee, no unveiling and no agent on the steps. José Paz has been at this club since he was a boy and is now, formally, one of the first-team squad — which for a local readership beats any signing of any size.
There is no fee, no unveiling and no agent on the steps. Andrés Sosa has been at this club since he was a boy and is now, formally, one of the first-team squad — which for a local readership beats any signing of any size.
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 supporters are entitled to be angry. So am I. We will put it right.” 1‑2, a manager saying the necessary things, and a dressing room that heard a different version of them.
Two goals and a mark of 8.91 to go with them. Strikers are judged on afternoons like this one and remembered for far fewer of them than people imagine.
Fee agreed, wages agreed, and Lecco waiting with a shirt. Nobody at Colón is pretending otherwise, and the supporters have stopped asking whether and started asking when.
“It was not right for me. I am not going to explain why to anybody except the people I owe an explanation to.” A deal agreed between two clubs, and a player who declined to be part of it.
“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.
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.
A 2‑1 win over San Martín SJ, earned rather than given, and the sort of afternoon that sends everyone home talking about next week instead of this one.
There is a particular warmth a ground reserves for a 23-year-old it feels ownership of. Darío Sarmiento has it now, and everything he does for the rest of his time here will be measured against the goodwill he was handed for free.
1 on the scoresheet on his first appearance and a mark of 7.74 beside it. Most debuts are got through; this one was enjoyed, by him and by everybody watching it.
“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.
Cristian Pavón 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.
Add another name to the list: LNZ have asked the question everybody in the game has been asking about Matías Córdoba. The answer from Colón has not changed — yet.
Somebody said out loud what several people had been thinking. Pier Barrios 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.
There is a particular warmth a ground reserves for a 20-year-old it feels ownership of. Thiago Fusco has it now, and everything he does for the rest of his time here will be measured against the goodwill he was handed for free.
In brief
Player ratingsTomás Gallay beats them one at a time