Santiago Cruz had imagined his Liga MX U19 debut a thousand times. But nothing could have prepared him for this. Cruz Azul U19 wasn't just another opponent. They were one of the best academies in Mexico.
Fast, aggressive and relentless. And from the moment the referee blew the whistle, they made sure América felt it.
The match started at a relentless pace. Cruz Azul pressed high and forced América into quick decisions. Every pass was contested. Every touch had pressure. Every mistake was punished.
In the 5th minute, Santi barely had time to breathe before someone was on him. He received a pass from Solano and BAM! A Cruz Azul midfielder crashed into his back.
Santi stumbled forward, barely keeping his balance. No foul. Just a message.
"Welcome to the league, rookie."
For the first 15 minutes, Santi struggled. Every time he touched the ball, Cruz Azul's midfielders swarmed him. They forced him wide, away from dangerous areas. They didn't let him turn. They didn't let him breathe.
And when he tried to hold onto the ball? They took it.
By minute 20, frustration burned in his chest. This wasn't just a game, it was a war. But Santi wasn't there to be shut down. He was there to take over.
In the 27th Minute, América finally broke forward on a counterattack. Santi sprinted into space, calling for the ball. Nico played it to his feet.
One touch and a quick glance up. Then he saw Ochoa making a diagonal run behind the defenders. The pass had to be perfect. A split-second decision. Santi didn't hesitate.
With the outside of his right foot, he chipped the ball over the backline. A perfectly timed lofted pass. Ochoa ran onto it; one touch and then "GOOOOOOAL!" 1-0.
The América bench erupted. Santi clenched his fists. He had recorded his first assist in Liga MX U19. But the match was far from over.
Cruz Azul turned up the intensity. They doubled their pressing. They played faster, sharper and stronger.
At minute 38, a big mistake from Club América resulted in a quick counterattack. A cross into the box. Then, a Cruz Azul striker rose higher than Toro and then BOOM! A header. Then "GOOOOOOAL!"
The opponents had equalized. It was now 1-1. Just like that, the match was wide open again.
During halftime, the América locker room was tense. Sweat dripped. Breathing was heavy. No one spoke. Until, BAM!
Herrera slammed his clipboard onto the bench.
"You think playing 'decent' is enough?" he snapped. No one answered.
"You're playing like you're afraid of them!" he barked. "Like they're better than you!"
Santi exhaled, gripping his water bottle. Because, so far? They had been. Herrera locked eyes with him.
"You're our creator, Cruz. So create!" Santi nodded.
From the first whistle of the second half, América played differently. More aggressive. More confident. More dangerous.
At Minute 55. Santi got the ball in midfield. A defender closed in. Then another. Instead of passing, Santi nutmegged the first defender. Gasps from the crowd.
The second defender lunged in but Santi spun away. Now? The space opened up. Diego was sprinting toward the far post.
Santi saw it and then curved the ball with the outside of his foot. A perfect trivela pass. Diego didn't even need to take a touch. One strike and the ball rattled in the net. "GOOOOOOAL!"
2-1.
Santi clenched his fists. Two assists. And he wasn't done. Because now? He wanted his own moment.
Minute 83.
Cruz Azul was pushing high, desperate for an equalizer. Their defenders had stepped up, leaving space behind them. They thought they had control. They thought they could break América.
But in one moment, everything changed. A bad pass. A loose ball rolling into midfield. Santi reacted first. His instincts took over. One touch. Then another.
Then, he exploded forward. He didn't just run. He attacked the space. Like a predator sensing weakness. The first defender lunged. Santi flicked the ball over his foot. And Gone.
The second defender closed in fast but Santi shifted his weight at the last second. A quick body feint and the defender went the wrong way.
Santi didn't stop. Didn't slow down. The third defender rushed him. Santi saw it coming. He rolled the ball to his left and then pulled it back right, nutmegging him. The crowd erupted. Gasps. Cheers.
But Santi wasn't done. Now, he was at the edge of the box. One more defender. The final obstacle. Santi slowed for a split second before baiting him in.
The moment the defender lunged, Santi tapped the ball past him and took off. He was gone. And now? It was just him and the keeper. Santi could have chipped it. He could have placed it calmly.
But that wasn't enough. Not for this moment. Not for everything he had fought for. He wanted the world to feel this goal. He planted his left foot. Swung his right. And hit it with everything he had.
The shot was a missile. A rocket aimed straight at destiny. The ball cut through the air. BOOM! Into the top corner. The net snapped violently.
The goalkeeper didn't even move. Didn't even see it. Because the ball was already inside the net.
For a second, everything was silent. The entire stadium needed a moment to process what had just happened. Then, chaos. The crowd erupted. The América bench went crazy. His teammates rushed toward him.
Diego jumped on his back, shouting. Toro shoved him in celebration, grinning. Ochoa smacked his head. Even Solano, usually quiet, grabbed Santi's jersey and shook him.
"Cabrón!" he shouted. "That was insane!" Santi barely heard them. His heartbeat was in his ears. His lungs burned.
But inside? Inside, he felt something he had never felt before. A moment of pure, unfiltered greatness. Because that? That was the moment Santiago Cruz had announced himself.
Cruz Azul tried to respond. They pushed forward, desperate. But América had all the momentum now. Toro and Ríos locked down the defense.
Diego and Solano controlled the midfield. And Santi? Santi was untouchable. Every time he got the ball, defenders hesitated. Because they had just seen what he could do.
They weren't sure if they wanted to test him again. The final whistle blew. The match ended in 3-1.
A statement victory. And at the center of it all? Santiago Cruz.
As Santi walked toward the tunnel, wiping sweat from his face, he heard footsteps beside him. It was Felipe.
"You looked different out there," Felipe muttered. Santi raised an eyebrow.
"How?" Felipe took a sip of his coffee.
"You weren't just playing." He glanced at Santi.
"You were owning the game."
Santi exhaled, still feeling the adrenaline in his veins. Felipe smirked.
"That goal…" he said, shaking his head. Santi grinned. "Nice, huh?" Felipe chuckled.
"That wasn't nice." He took another sip of coffee.
"That was a damn banger." Santi laughed.
Then Felipe's expression turned serious. "Enjoy this moment," he said. "You earned it."
He started walking away, but before he disappeared down the tunnel, he spoke one last time.
"Just remember, kid…" Santi looked up. Felipe's smirk returned.
"Now they expect you to do it again." Santi nodded slowly.