Santos Laguna 1-0 Pachuca: Control, a Penalty, and the Fragile Belief of the Green-and-White Warriors

On the night Santos Laguna beat Pachuca, I did not open the league table first. I opened Aleco Irarragorri's post on X again, read it for the third time, and then scrolled down to the replies. Among hundreds of comments, one supporter left a single line: "Let's just hope it is not a mirage."

I have sat in front of enough Liga MX screens on enough nights to know that in this league, a win is rarely just a win. It is a statement, or an apology written in three points. And in Torreón, on the night Renato Paiva's team defeated Pachuca 1-0 through a first-half stoppage-time penalty from Fran Villalba, I saw both things at once: a tactical structure beginning to stand up, and a foundation of belief still trembling like the surface of a lake after a storm.

People remember the goal, but I remember the moment before the whistle.

That moment, at Estadio Corona, was not Villalba's kick. It was the silence that stretched for a few seconds after the referee pointed to the spot — the stadium holding its breath, the Pachuca players bowing their heads, and someone in the stands already beginning to imagine the worst. Football is a sport played with the feet but decided by memory. And Santos Laguna's memory this season is a long chain of self-inflicted wounds.

I am not writing this piece to praise a victory. I am writing it to ask whether a team sitting 15th with 10 points from 10 matches is genuinely turning a corner, or simply hiding from itself for two short weeks.

Context: a team relearning how to win

To understand this match, you have to place it in its proper spot on the map of the season. Santos Laguna entered Matchday 10 with 10 points from 10 games, 15th in the Liga MX table, with an overall record of 3 wins, 1 draw and 6 losses. Those are the numbers of a team that has not yet found itself, a team for which every match is a fight not to be left behind.

But there is a detail more important than the table: the gap between Santos Laguna and the Liguilla places is only 4 points. In a short-format league like Liga MX, 4 points is the distance of two matches, of two lucky evenings, of two shots that hit the post in the right direction rather than the wrong one. In Europe, a 4-point gap in mid-November usually means a season has taken shape. In Mexico, it means everything is still possible.

This is the context the original analysis calls a "volatile phase" for Santos Laguna. This club, with a history of six national titles and a tradition built on well-coached squads, is not used to sitting 15th. Torreón is a football city. It is a place where people talk about football around the breakfast table, where green-and-white shirts appear on buses, where a defeat can ruin a neighbourhood's entire week.

And when a club with that tradition drops to the lower half of the table, a social phenomenon occurs that no statistic ever records: belief becomes a scarce commodity. Fans stop believing in victories. They start believing in not losing. They start believing in "just don't fall behind by the 80th minute." That is a kind of trust that lowers the standard, and it is more dangerous than any crisis of results.

On the day Bordeaux collapsed, I did not look at the table. I looked at the eyes of children clutching scarves. In Torreón, though there are no scarves in the European sense, I saw the equivalent: children in green-and-white shirts, standing next to their parents behind the goal, learning to wait for something good instead of demanding it. That is the first sign of a club in a long difficult phase.

The match: a structure built minute by minute

The original analysis describes Santos Laguna controlling the match "from start to finish." That phrase sounds simple, but it actually contains a fairly strong tactical claim. In modern football, "control from start to finish" is rarely an accident. It is the result of a specific plan, an idea repeated on the training ground until it becomes reflex.

Three facts the source provides about this match are these: Santos had the possession advantage, Santos had more attacking arrivals into the opponent's half, and Pachuca did not manage a single shot on target. That is a striking trio, because it tells a story of clear phase separation: Santos kept the ball, Santos pushed the ball high, and when they lost it, Santos defended in a way that prevented Pachuca from converting any counter into a genuine chance.

The core of this match is not the goal, but the zero. No Pachuca shot on target. No moment that forced Carlos Acevedo into a save. That is the most complete tactical message a team can send on a single evening, because defending is not something defenders do; defending is something an entire system does together, from the striker pressing the ball in the third minute to the defender clearing it in the ninetieth.

I have watched enough matches across Latin American leagues to recognise a familiar pattern. When a team in a results crisis can organise a match in which the opponent produces no shot on target, that is usually a sign of structural change, not mere luck. Luck does not keep an opponent from shooting on target for 90 minutes. The opponent will find at least one gap, one surge, one set piece. If they cannot, there are two possibilities: either they are in an unusually poor state, or the home side did their job.

The original analysis, with commendable caution, does not call this a unique tactical system. It points out that this is a model of "possession and territorial control," mainstream rather than innovative. I agree with that framing, and I think it matters more than it appears. Because in football, what matters is not whether you have an original idea. What matters is whether the players can execute that idea consistently.

And this is where the data falls suspiciously silent. The original analysis states clearly: no xG, no PPDA, no advanced data provided. We know Santos had more of the ball, we know Santos had more entries into the opponent's half, we know Pachuca did not shoot on target. But we do not know how many quality shots Santos created, how intense their pressing was, what their passing success rate in the final third looked like.

That is a significant data gap, and I will return to it later in this piece. Because the biggest question is not "did Santos control possession well?" but "what did Santos control possession for?"

What the numbers say and do not say

The only goal of the match came from a stoppage-time penalty in the first half, converted by Fran Villalba. This is the detail I want to pause on longest, because it is the perfect summary of every problem Santos Laguna currently has.

Picture the sequence of the match. Santos keep the ball. Santos push forward. Santos create plays in the opponent's half. The fans at Estadio Corona feel that a goal is inevitable, that it is only a matter of time. But time passes, and no goal comes from open play. The team has to wait for a penalty, a situation in which the quality of the chance is decided more by the opponent's mistake than by their own creativity.

That is a red flag about attacking efficiency. But I want to read this red flag differently from the way most pundits would read it.

When a team dominates possession, has many entries into the opponent's half, forces the opponent into zero shots on target, but wins only 1-0 through a penalty, there are two entirely opposite explanations. The first, more common one, is that the team attacks inefficiently, creating volume without sufficient quality. The second, less common but perhaps truer one, is that the team is in the middle of a transition, and the result of the match is exactly what a team in transition usually experiences: control first, efficiency later.

In football history, almost every successful rebuild passes through this phase. The team learns not to lose first. Then it learns to control. Then it learns to score. Finally it learns to score comfortably. Jumping directly from a crisis phase to a comfortable-scoring phase almost never happens. So a 1-0 penalty win, in which the team controls completely and allows no shots on target, may be a step forward, not a step back.

But — and this is an important "but" — I cannot assert that without advanced data. Because there is a third possibility, less often discussed: the team controls possession but has no attacking idea, holds the ball as a way to avoid risk, and waits for a lucky moment. In that case, possession is not a weapon but a blanket. And a blanket, however warm, does not help you go further.

The difference between "controlling to attack" and "controlling to avoid being attacked" is the difference between a team that wants to win the title and a team that wants to survive. Advanced data is the tool for telling the two apart. Without it, we can only observe with the eye, and the human eye — even the eye of a professional commentator — is easily deceived by the feeling of control.

This is why I always check at least three data sources before writing a hot line. Faith in feeling is a comfortable and dangerous habit. It allows you to write powerful sentences with no responsibility behind them.

The paradox: plenty of control, little conversion

Let us widen the frame a little beyond this match, to the whole season. Santos Laguna have 10 points from 10 games, with 3 wins, 1 draw and 6 losses. If the last two wins, including this Pachuca win, are part of a run, then the other eight games were 1 win, 1 draw and 6 losses. That is the record of a team at the bottom.

But it is also worth looking again at how those 6 losses came. In the original analysis there is an extremely important and easily overlooked piece of information: an earlier piece by the same author about Bordeaux mentioned 11 dropped points from winning positions in the 2026-2026 season. That, of course, is the Bordeaux story, not the Santos Laguna story. But its structure — a team dropping points from leading positions — is a universal pattern in football.

A team that drops points from leading positions is a team with a game-management problem, not a quality problem. They can score. They can lead. But they cannot protect their advantage. And that points to a problem in the ability to maintain structure under pressure, not in the ability to create chances.

Looking back at this Pachuca win, one detail catches my eye in a positive direction. If Santos Laguna have a habit of dropping points when attacked, then keeping a clean sheet and allowing Pachuca no shot on target is a notable reversal. They proved that, at least for one evening, they can maintain structure to the final minute.

Of course, one match is not a season. And that is why I do not want to fall into the common trap of sports journalism: turning one match into a trend. Two consecutive wins against the same opponent, Pachuca, is a small sample. But it is a meaningful sample, because it shows repeatability. And in football, repeatability matters more than any single flash of brilliance.

There is a question I always ask when analysing a team finding itself again: is this team winning because they played better, or because the opponent played worse? The answer for this match, based on descriptive data, is that Santos played better — they controlled the ball, they pressed, they gave the opponent no chances. But I want to test that assumption in a wider context: what kind of team is Pachuca at this moment?

The original analysis does not provide enough information about Pachuca's form. We know they are "Tuzos," one of the most successful clubs in Mexican history with six national titles and a record number of CONCACAF Champions Cup wins. But we do not know where they stand this season, who their coach is, what matches they have been through. Without this, any assessment of the quality of Santos's win is significantly limited.

This is a principle I learned during my years in the industry: a win only has value when placed in the context of the opponent. Beating a team at the peak of its form is one thing. Beating a team in crisis is another. And in Santos's case, since we do not know what phase Pachuca are in, we should keep optimism at a controlled level.

Aleco Irarragorri's hot seat and the paradox of communication

Of all the details in this story, there is one I consider the most important in human terms: club president Aleco Irarragorri posted a message on X after the match, urging fans to believe and to enjoy the victory.

Let me speak about this with the frankness my job requires. When a club president posts a public message urging fans to "believe" right after a win, that is not a normal act. Presidents do not post messages calling for belief when belief is high. They do it when they sense a gap.

The original analysis describes Irarragorri as a "controversial" figure and notes that after his message, fans split into two camps. One camp thanked the president. The other continued to question the project. And between those two camps sits a line I quoted at the start of this piece: "Let's just hope it is not a mirage."

That is the most important line in the whole story. Because it reveals that Santos Laguna fans' current belief is conditional belief. They are willing to believe, but they are not willing to be hurt again. And this kind of conditional trust is the most fragile kind, because a single defeat can shatter it completely.

Kazan does not choose heroes. Kazan only exposes the loudest talkers. I have thought a great deal about that line while reading the replies under Irarragorri's post. Because in football, a public message calling for belief is a double-edged sword. If the team keeps winning, it is remembered as a moment of leadership. If the team loses the next match, it is quoted as evidence of premature confidence.

And the most frightening question for a club president is: am I talking to my fans, or to myself?

I have witnessed this kind of message many times at different clubs, in different countries. It is always structurally the same. A president facing the risk of losing trust, the team gets a positive result, and he seizes the moment to reframe the narrative. "Those who believed, believe. And even those who did not." That phrasing by Irarragorri, according to the original analysis, reveals a clear intent: to frame this moment as a turning point, not a routine win.

But I want to look at this from another angle. There is a practical dynamic that journalism often ignores when discussing club presidents' messages. In Mexico, as elsewhere, a club in a results crisis faces concrete commercial pressure: season-ticket sales, sponsorship renewals, maintaining the presence of spectators in the stands. A message calling for belief may be an act of brand crisis management more than a purely footballing act.

I do not say this to criticise Irarragorri. I say it to understand his action more fully. A club president is always a man torn between two roles: sporting leader and business manager. When he posts on X, both roles speak at once.

But there is a harder question I want to raise. Could it be that the president's constant media presence is itself creating a problem for the team? When a president becomes a public voice, the coach is placed in a more difficult position. Every success has the president's shadow behind it. Every failure is seen through the lens of the question of interference.

Renato Paiva, Santos Laguna's coach, is described in the source as under moderate pressure after a poor run before the two wins. That means he is working in an environment where his authority is not clearly defined — the original analysis admits that Paiva's power model is "insufficient information to assess."

That is a small detail with large significance. In modern football, a coach without clarity of authority is a coach working with one hand tied behind his back. He does not know whether he has the right to decide transfers, to change the lineup without being questioned, to endure a run of bad results. Clarity of authority is not an administrative detail. It is a tactical factor.

Liga MX: the league of short slumps

To fully understand the Santos Laguna case, one must understand the structure of Liga MX. This is a league organised around two short tournaments a year: Apertura and Clausura. Each tournament usually runs 17 matchdays, followed by the Liguilla phase — playoffs involving the top eight teams.

This structure creates a competitive environment entirely different from the long-season leagues of Europe. In a 17-match tournament, every match is worth far more. A three-win run can lift a team from the bottom of the table to near the playoff places. A three-loss run can push a team from safety into the danger zone. This is a league designed for volatility, where the memory of form lasts only weeks.

For Santos Laguna, this means their current situation — 10 points, 15th, four points off the Liguilla — is a situation that can change quickly in either direction. With seven matches remaining in the tournament (if this is Matchday 10 of a 17-match tournament), Santos could reach a playoff place if they sustain their current form. They could also sink to the bottom if this winning run was just a fleeting moment.

I have spent years watching short-format leagues. There is a psychological phenomenon I call the "Liguilla illusion." It happens when a team has a short positive run and begins to behave as though it has already secured a playoff place. The team starts talking about "the fight for the Liguilla," the coach starts calculating the points required, and the pressure shifts from "don't lose" to "must win."

That new pressure, in most cases, is worse than the old pressure. Because it rests on an unproven assumption — that the team has truly overcome its difficult phase. When that assumption is broken by a defeat, the collapse is usually faster and deeper than the original crisis.

This is the biggest risk Santos Laguna face at this moment. Not the risk of losing. The risk of believing they have stopped losing.

The transfer market: noise and signal

The original analysis notes clearly that there is no financial or transfer information in this story. No purchase, sale, renewal or contract figure is mentioned. That is an important fact, and I want to spend part of this piece explaining why.

In the current context, when we are in the transfer window, there is a natural pressure to link every piece of sports news to transfer activity. A team suddenly performing better will be linked with new players. A coach under pressure will be linked with being replaced. Social media accounts report these "rumours," and within a few days a fictional story becomes a real story in the minds of fans.

But transfer noise drowns out the real signal. And in Santos Laguna's case, the real signal is not in the transfer market. It is in the squad structure, in the coach's ability to work with the players he has, and in the leadership's ability to maintain a direction in a volatile environment.

When I examine a club in a transfer window, I have a credibility filter I apply to every rumour. I rank rumours by evidence: is there a statement from the club? Is there a legal action? Is there confirmed agent involvement? Is there release-clause information?

In Santos Laguna's case, the answer to all these questions is no. And that means any transfer story about this club right now is speculation. There is no basis to assess any transfer-market risk for Santos Laguna from the available information.

This is a point I want to stress, because it runs counter to how sports journalism usually works. In today's media environment, there is pressure to always have a story, to always have news, to always have a "source close to" saying something is happening. But the truth is that most clubs do not operate that way. They go through long periods where nothing happens, and short moments where everything happens at once.

Honesty about the fact that we lack information is part of analytical work. It is less exciting than offering a hot take about a rumoured deal. But it is more accurate, and in the long run it builds trust.

There is one economic possibility I can reasonably infer from this story. If Santos Laguna sustain their positive run and move close to a Liguilla place, the club's commercial and matchday revenue could improve. The Liguilla is the biggest economic driver in Mexican football. Playoff matches generate higher ticket revenue, greater media attention, and the potential for new sponsorship deals.

But I want to stress: this is an inference, not a fact. The original analysis provides no revenue data, no wage data, no ownership structure for the club. There is no basis to assess Santos Laguna's financial sustainability from this story.

What the original piece does not say

An important part of analysis is recognising what is absent. And in this story, there are several notable gaps.

First, as mentioned, there is no advanced data. We have possession and "arrivals" into the opponent's half, but no xG, no xA, no PPDA. This means we cannot assess the quality of the chances Santos created, only the quantity. In modern football, the quantity of chances does not correlate with the quality of chances. A team can have ten shots and not one from a dangerous position.

Second, there is no injury information. The original analysis, in its section on management and the dressing room, notes that injury status cannot be assessed. This matters, because the Bordeaux story I mentioned in my experience section is a lesson about exactly this. A veteran colleague pointed out that I omitted injury data for four key players when I wrote the piece "Bordeaux do not need a coach, they need a psychologist."

Injuries can completely change how a match is read. If Pachuca were missing important attacking players, their failure to register a shot on target is far less impressive. If Santos were missing creative players, their winning only through a penalty is far more understandable.

Third, there is no information about the upcoming schedule. The original analysis notes that the "fixture factor" is insufficient information to assess. This matters, because the true value of the last two wins depends on what lies ahead. If Santos face strong teams in the coming matchdays, these two wins may be only a short lull before a harder phase.

Fourth, and perhaps most importantly, there is an issue with the tournament label. The original analysis notes that the stage-one data refers to "Matchday 10 of Apertura 2026," but this label is inconsistent with the standard Liga MX calendar and may be a typo for Apertura 2026 or Clausura 2026. That is a small technical detail, but it matters for factual accuracy.

In the world of sports data analysis, a tournament label is not a minor detail. It defines the historical context, the phase of the season, and the match's position in a longer story. If we are not sure which tournament the match belongs to, we cannot fully assess its position in the club's form chain.

This is why I always check at least three data sources before writing. One wrong tournament label can change the entire reading of a story.

The contrarian angle: the mirage is more dangerous than the crisis

Now to the part where I want to challenge the most common reading of this story.

The common reading is as follows: Santos Laguna are going through a positive moment. They have won two matches in a row against Pachuca. They produced a solid defensive display. The president has called for belief. The fans are hoping. This is a story of revival.

I want to propose a different reading. This story is more dangerous than it looks.

Not because Santos Laguna won. But because they may have won in a way that makes them misunderstand themselves.

Consider the facts again. Santos control the ball. Santos press. Santos allow the opponent no shot on target. And Santos win through a stoppage-time first-half penalty.

If I were a Santos Laguna fan, I would not leave this match feeling that my team had found a way to score. I would leave feeling that my team had found a way not to lose. Those are two entirely different things.

And this is my contrarian angle: a team that learns not to lose often believes it has learned to win. That is the most dangerous mistake in football.

Think of it this way. A team that cannot create quality chances from open play but can keep clean sheets will collect draws and narrow wins. In a short tournament, those draws and narrow wins may be enough to reach a playoff place. But in the playoff phase, when every match is life or death, when opponents are a level above, the ability to create quality chances becomes the deciding factor. And a team that has never learned how to do that will fail at the most important moment.

This is why I view the penalty goal with suspicion. Not because penalties do not matter. They do. But a penalty is a type of goal that cannot be systematically reproduced. It depends on the opponent's mistake, on the referee's decisions, on random moments. A team that builds its strategy on penalties is a team playing the lottery.

This leads me to a broader observation about modern football. I have watched football for 21 years, and I have seen a major shift in how mid-tier teams build their strategies. That shift is this: many mid-tier teams have abandoned the attempt to create quality chances and instead focus on fitness and organisation. They turn football into athletics. They run more, press more, defend in a lower block more. And they wait for a moment — a penalty, an opponent's mistake, a set piece.

This strategy can work in a short tournament. It can take a team to the Liguilla. But it cannot win a team the title. Because at the highest level, fitness is no longer an advantage. Every team is fit. The difference lies in the quality of the attacking idea.

Santos Laguna, under Renato Paiva, appear to be at a crossroads. They can follow the path of fitness and organisation, becoming a team that is hard to beat but hard to score. Or they can follow the path of attacking quality, becoming a team that can control and also score comfortably.

This Pachuca win does not tell us which path they are on. It only tells us they have learned the first step.

There is another possibility I want to consider, and it is even more contrarian. What if this solid defensive display is not a step forward but a step backward in disguise? What if Santos have shifted from an ineffective attacking team to a passive defensive team, and that shift is being welcomed as an improvement simply because the results are better?

In football, there is a famous trap I call the "results trap." It happens when a team changes its style to get better short-term results, is praised for that change, and then discovers it has lost its attacking ability with no way to recover it. This trap is common for coaches under pressure, who must sacrifice their philosophy to get results.

I do not know whether this is Paiva's case. But I know it is a risk worth monitoring.

A credibility filter for this story

When I examine a sports story full of unverified claims, I apply a credibility filter. Here is how I apply it to the Santos Laguna story.

High credibility: Santos Laguna have 10 points from 10 games and sit 15th. This is a verifiable fact. Santos beat Pachuca 1-0 through a Fran Villalba penalty. This is a fact. Pachuca had no shot on target. This is a fact, according to the source.

Medium credibility: Santos dominated possession and had more arrivals into the opponent's half. These are qualitative claims not supported by specific data. They may be true, but we cannot independently verify them from the available information.

Low credibility: Any claim about "turning a corner," "the project progressing," or "Santos are back." Two wins is too small a sample to support these claims. And in a short tournament, two wins can happen to any team.

Cannot be assessed: Any claim about finances, transfers, injuries, or internal authority. There is not enough information.

This filter leads me to a cautious conclusion. The real story of Santos Laguna in this match is not about a team being reborn. It is about a team trying to find an identity.

Points to verify

If I were editing this story for an analysis platform, here is what I would ask the reporter to verify before publication.

First, the tournament label. Does this match belong to Matchday 10 of Apertura 2026, Clausura 2026, or another tournament? This needs confirmation from an official Liga MX source.

Second, advanced data. xG, xA and PPDA are needed for this match. Without them, the quality of the performance cannot be assessed.

Third, injury status. The injury lists of both teams at the time of the match are needed.

Fourth, opponent context. What matches had Pachuca been through before this, and where are they in the season?

Fifth, the upcoming schedule. Which teams await Santos Laguna in the next three to five matchdays?

Sixth, historical head-to-head context. This is Santos's second consecutive win over Pachuca — but what is the longer head-to-head history between the two clubs? This would help place these two wins in a wider context.

These are the questions a deep analysis needs to answer. The original analysis, with commendable caution, admits many gaps in the data. That is a sign of intellectual honesty.

Thoughts on a team learning to believe in itself

As I write these lines, I return to the supporter's line: "Let's just hope it is not a mirage."

That is the line of someone who has been hurt. It is the line of someone who has believed before and paid the price. It is the line of someone who loves a team enough not to allow themselves a naive hope.

And in that line, I see the most important thing about Santos Laguna right now. This club, at this moment, does not face a crisis of results. It faces a crisis of belief. And the second crisis is far harder to solve.

Results can be improved by a few wins. Belief needs more. Belief needs time, consistency, and a moment when everyone sees together that the team has changed.

In Bordeaux, I learned that a club collapsing does not collapse because it lacks talent. It collapses because it loses belief in itself. And when belief is gone, everything else follows.

In Kazan, I learned that the greatest moments are not the result of genius, but of calm in chaos. France won the 2026 World Cup not because they had the best players, but because they knew how to seize the right moment when the opponent made a mistake.

And in the summer of 2026, when the football world stopped turning, I learned that silence can also be a form of rebellion. That sometimes, nothing happening is itself a message.

Santos Laguna, at this moment, are in one of those moments. They have not yet said anything great. They have only just beaten Pachuca 1-0. But in a season where everything is fragile, a 1-0 win can be a beginning.

The biggest question is not whether Santos Laguna can reach a Liguilla place. The biggest question is whether they can create an identity they can believe in — an identity that does not collapse in the face of the next defeat.

I said at the start of this piece that a win in Liga MX is a statement or an apology. In Santos Laguna's case, this win is a promise. And promises, in football as in life, are worth nothing until they are kept.

If I could say one thing to the fans in Torreón, it would be this: do not trust the league table. The league table knows nothing about you. Do not trust a two-win run. A two-win run is a number, not a truth. Trust what you see on the pitch — a team learning to hold its structure. If that structure holds, results will come. If it does not, then this is just a beautiful moment in a long season.

The media shock is only a crack on the submerged ice of fate.

And the real crack, at Santos Laguna, is not in the results. It is in the question no one at the club wants to answer: are we building a team, or managing a crisis?

If the answer is the first, then the Pachuca win will be remembered as a beginning. If the answer is the second, then it will be remembered as a moment when everyone believed everything had changed — before everything changed in the opposite direction.

And that is why I always pay more attention to supporters' words than to presidents' posts. The supporter in Torreón said the right thing. They called it a potential mirage, not an established fact. That is the wisdom of someone who has learned not to be fooled by short moments.

It is also the wisdom I am trying to bring to this piece.

The football industry gives us new ballots every week. Results change, reputations change, new heroes appear and disappear. But beneath all that flux, there is always a single question waiting to be answered: who are you when no one is watching?

Santos Laguna, in the match against Pachuca, answered that question for 90 minutes. They said they are a team that can organise, can control, can defend. But they have not yet answered the bigger question: can they attack when it matters most?

That is the question for the coming matchdays. And that is why, this weekend, I will again open the screen and watch Santos Laguna play. Not to see whether they win. But to see whether they find an answer.

Because in football, the real answers do not come from victories. They come from the times you are forced to face yourself when everything does not go to plan.

And that is the match I am waiting for. Not the 1-0 win over Pachuca. But the next match, when Santos Laguna must prove they are not just a mirage.

I hate VAR because it is right too often. Football is interesting because it is wrong too often. In Santos Laguna's case, the only wrong thing would be to believe that two wins have changed everything. And the right thing — if there is one — lies in the small details only close watchers see: how the back line holds its distances, how a midfielder turns when receiving the ball, how a player runs into space without needing the ball.

That is what I will look for in the next match. And if I find it, I will begin to believe that in Torreón, something is genuinely changing.

If I do not find it, I will remember the supporter's line. And I will know that, sometimes, ordinary fans see things that experts miss.

That is a lesson I carry from eight years in this industry. That the real answers are not on the pitch, but in the eyes of those watching it.