Soccer

Mexico finally built a team that’s hard to beat — a home World Cup asks whether that’s enough

Javier Aguirre's side is the most disciplined El Tri in years. The question on home soil isn't escaping Group A — it's finding someone to win a match they don't control.
Jack T. Taylor

For most of the last thirty years, Mexico went to a World Cup carrying the same promise and the same flaw, knotted together. The promise was the touch — the quick feet, the one-twos in tight spaces, a country that loved the ball and wanted you to know it. The flaw was what happened when the ball was taken away: a side that defended like it was an apology, that could be bullied off its plan by anyone willing to be ugly for ninety minutes. They were lovely to watch right up to the moment it mattered, and then they weren’t.

This Mexico is a different animal, and you can feel it in the way they suffer. Javier Aguirre has spent his second act in charge stripping the team down to something harder than charm. The back line is the best thing about them now — César Montes and Johan Vásquez patrolling the centre, big men who win the first ball and the second, a unit that has conceded almost nothing across a long run of warm-up games. They sit, they stay compact, they let you have the ball in the places where it can’t hurt them, and then they break. It is not the El Tri of nostalgia. It is an El Tri built to be hard to beat, and for once that is not a backhanded thing to say.

The schedule has been kind to them at exactly the right moment. As hosts they open the whole tournament against South Africa at the Estadio Azteca — the cathedral in Mexico City that is about to become the only ground in the world to stage three World Cups, after 1970 and 1986. From there the group runs through South Korea and the Czech Republic, a draw that asks a gentler first question than any Mexico has faced in a generation. South Korea bring a genuine danger in their captain and a press that can bite; the Czechs are organised and awkward. But none of the three should frighten a settled, in-form host. On paper Mexico are the favourite to come out of Group A on top, and the paper, for once, is not lying.

That is the strange luxury of this campaign, and also its trap. For decades the Mexican conversation was about the wall — the round-of-16 barrier the country kept walking into. This time the group is not the obstacle. Aguirre’s side is good enough, disciplined enough, deep enough at the back to expect to advance, and a home crowd will drag them through the close ones. The honest question has moved further down the bracket. It is no longer whether this Mexico can survive. It is whether a team built to resist can do the other thing — win a match it does not control, against an opponent who refuses to lend it the ball.

Resistance gets you a long way and then it runs out of road. A back four and a set-piece routine can take a side level into the second hour of a knockout tie; Montes and Vásquez attacking a corner are as close to a guaranteed chance as this team owns. But there comes a night, against a France or a Brazil, when the plan holds and the game still needs a goal out of nothing — a moment of nerve from someone who can make the ball do what the structure can’t. That is the position Mexico have not reliably filled in years. Raúl Jiménez leads the line with the experience to hold it and finish the chances that come, but he is a reference point, not a magician. The team is built to deny. Somewhere it has to learn to take.

Aguirre’s bet on that question has a name, and he is seventeen years old. Gilberto Mora has fought back from the pubalgia that wrecked the start of his year to make the squad, and he carries the one quality the rest of the side rations carefully: the instinct to do something the script did not ask for. Around him the manager has trusted his own eye over reputation — surprise call-ups, the door shut on Hirving Lozano after a thin season at San Diego FC, a coach picking for function rather than for the highlight reel. Mora is the one indulgence — the gamble that the team that won’t break might also, when it has to, sparkle.

Then there is the man who has seen all of it before. Guillermo Ochoa, forty now, has dragged his career to the edge of history: a place in the squad keeps him in line to join Lionel Messi and Cristiano Ronaldo as the only men to play in six World Cups. Whether the gloves are his on the opening night or not, his presence says something about how Aguirre wants this team to think — calm, experienced, allergic to panic. The whole project is an argument against the old Mexican habit of beating itself.

So they walk out first, into the noise of the Azteca, carrying a country’s hope and, for the first time in a while, a plan equal to it. The group should fall their way. The home support will turn a sound team into a hard one. What waits beyond that is the test Mexico has not passed in living memory — the moment when being difficult to beat is no longer enough, when the tournament stops asking whether you can hold and starts asking whether you can win. Aguirre has built the first half of that answer better than anyone expected. The second half is the one no amount of organisation can guarantee. On home soil, with a generation watching, El Tri are about to find out which kind of team they really are.

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