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Definitely looks like this writer’s gonna leave this earthly pitch without ever seeing La Vinotinto make it to a World Cup. This loss isn’t just orphaned—it hits deep. It stings because it’s been years of heartbreak, and when the shot finally depends on you, botching it feels like a brutal wake-up call. Colombia knows how to ball. They’ve got a squad we’ll be rooting for come FIFA World Cup 2026—a stacked lineup that, despite everything, blinked. They did it in confusion, because let’s be real, nobody in their right mind expected Telasco Segovia to slot one home straight outta the locker room in minute two against a sleepy Colombia. Our kid @stow01 gifted me a birthday ticket to catch La Vinotinto live in Maturín. Killed two birds with one pass, too—we hosted Ramiro Segovia, an Argentine history prof he befriended during his time in Argentina. My brother Ricardo jumped in on the trip as well, since our son had copped four tickets for the crew.
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Road bumps on Venezuelan highways are par for the course, and this trip was no exception. We hit the road Monday the 8th around noon, heading toward Puerto La Cruz to crash for the night before continuing to Maturín yesterday. Near Cúpira, the road was blocked—locals had been without power for over six days. We got past the holdup and made it to our stop by 9 PM. Yesterday we drove the rest of the way, since @stow01 took the wheel on day one and I’m pretty sure he had zero desire to drive again. The pics in this post document the journey as best we could. We rolled into Maturín around 2 PM, but had nowhere to stay. I called up @edmundochauran to see if he could connect me with a hiver who might help us sort things out in Monagas’ capital—no hotels had any rooms left. He passed me the number for @nathyortiz. She has no idea how lucky we felt to have her in our corner, but I want to publicly thank her here for helping us lock down a place to stay. I’ll be meeting her in person in a couple hours to say it face to face.
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Back to the match—before kickoff, the vibe was pure fiesta (as shown in the short YouTube clip linked to this recap), the stadium dressed to the nines and a crowd, myself included, unknowingly bracing for heartbreak. Venezuela’s flaws on the pitch were glaring. Honestly, we still don’t know what “Bocha” Batista was trying to pull off tactically. We knew we needed goals to win, but let’s be real—we also needed to avoid the goalfest Colombia handed us. Who the hell would’ve bet on a 2-2 scoreline by halftime? Picture this: I was so let down by La Vinotinto’s performance that we stopped filming once Venezuela went up 2-1. No one’s a psychic, but when Colombia leveled it at 2-all, I felt the half needed to end right then and there. The storm was coming.
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ENGLISH VERSION (click here!)
Halftime whistle blew and all we felt was dead calm in our chest, while who knows what “Bocha” Batista was telling the squad in the locker room. Whatever it was, it didn’t land. A faded Venezuela let in Colombia’s third, fourth, and fifth before our warrior Salomón Rondón knocked in Venezuela’s third. Córdoba sealed the deal with the sixth, and that was all she wrote for me and my crew. We bounced from the stadium right away, already thinking about where we’d crash for the night (which, as I mentioned, got sorted). We screamed our lungs out, bought the jersey, backed the team with everything we had. But truth be told—we never deserved that playoff spot. You can’t play stingy football and expect miracles. That whole “bro, I’ve got faith” slogan felt like a marketing line cooked up to give the fans and social media something to vent their pent-up nationalist rage on. The twelfth man showed up. The coaching staff and players didn’t. See you next qualifying cycle.
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