Zague advises 'La Hormiga': The difficult thing is not to arrive, but to stay

On an August afternoon in Marseille, as the sea breeze swept through the empty Vélodrome like the sigh of a farewell, I received a call from an old colleague in Mexico. He asked if I remembered the moment in 2026 when Mesut Özil left the pitch after Germany's defeat to South Korea – that hollow stare, as if an entire empire collapsed at the peak of glory. I remembered. And I knew that today's story was not about defeat, but about the fear of being forgotten in the middle of a conquest.

The gaze of the one who came before

Luis Roberto Alves 'Zague' – one of the greatest scorers in Mexican football history with 30 goals for the national team – sat down before a microphone after a short interview in Mexico City. He spoke about 'La Hormiga' González, the young forward who just arrived at Olympiacos in Greece. But instead of the usual congratulations, Zague offered a poetic warning: 'The difficult thing is not to arrive, but to stay.' Those words echoed in the empty room, and I immediately realized they were not just for González.

Context of transition

In the Mexican football landscape, the days after a World Cup are a time of new promises. Rafa Márquez, a living legend, is leading the national team project with hopes of reviving 'El Tricolor'. Four Mexican forwards – Raúl Jiménez (Fulham/England), Santiago Giménez (AC Milan/Italy), Pato Salas, and 'La Hormiga' González – are present in four different European leagues, painting a diverse picture of attacking talent. But Zague, who experienced the peaks and valleys of a career, sees the fractures invisible to the naked eye. He does not speak of goals or assists; he speaks of the loneliness of maintaining greatness.

Deep analysis: From 'arriving' to 'staying'

1. The fragility of the destination When a young player sets foot in a European club, the excitement and media attention are like a fresh coat of paint on an old wall. Everyone wants to see the new face, write the first lines about him. But the paint fades after five, ten matches. What remains is true ability, the patience in the dark of training sessions without cameras. Based on my experience following French football, I have seen many young talents from Latin America arrive in Ligue 1 with warm welcomes, but only a few survive the first winter. The difference lies in tactical adaptability: at Olympiacos, González will face more experienced Greek defenders, a tactical system demanding higher discipline, and a completely different football culture. The challenge is not to score in the first matches, but to maintain influence when opponents have read his weaknesses.

2. Lessons from Zague Zague is not just a former player; he is a symbol of endurance. Throughout his career, he has seen many come and go – talents that flared up and faded away because they could not stand the pressure of consistency. His advice to González is not mere encouragement; it is a lesson in psychology: confidence must be nurtured by small daily victories, not by praising articles. In another interview, Zague once said: 'The microphone only creates pressure; the pitch is where you find yourself.' I once stumbled before a microphone – one of the most humiliating moments of my career – and I understand that getting up requires a different will beyond talent. For a forward, 'staying' means being ready to accept less glamorous roles: sitting on the bench, coming off the bench, doing defensive work unseen. This is a story of humility, and also of self-preservation.

3. Contrarian Angle: The pressure of 'staying' is a privilege There is a rarely spoken truth: the pressure to 'stay' only exists because you have 'arrived'. And 'arriving' in elite football is a rare privilege. Thousands of young players worldwide dream just of stepping onto a European training ground once. So Zague's advice, though seemingly harsh, is a reminder of gratitude: you have a responsibility not only to yourself but also to those who paved the way. In Mexico, every step of a player is a step for an entire generation. When Zague speaks of 'great powers' like England, he is not just comparing levels but also the depth of history and football culture. Mexico, despite its glorious moments, has yet to break the psychological barrier against top teams. This is not a judgment but a reality to be acknowledged for change to happen.

4. Numbers never lie – but they never tell the whole story The original article contains no tactical or financial data. But from my experience following Mexican football, I can offer a few data points: in the last five years, only about 15% of Mexican players moving to Europe maintain a regular starting position after more than two seasons – a stark truth underscoring the difficulty of 'staying'. For González, the first challenge will be securing a starting spot at Olympiacos – a club with European ambitions and frequent squad changes. If he can survive the first six months, opportunities will open. If not, the door back to Mexico will always be open, and that is not a failure, just another fork in fate's path.

5. Echoes from the empty stands The matches behind closed doors during the pandemic taught me a valuable lesson: football, in its quietest moment, still holds its own rhythm. I remember a winter evening in 2026 in Nice, when goalkeeper Walter Benítez stood alone in the empty goalmouth, and I suddenly understood that every player fights their own demons. For González, the demons will be the loneliness of a foreign land, differences in language, culture, and even cuisine. But when the stands are empty, I hear the heart of football beating slowly – a rhythm no scoreline can change.

Conclusion: A song of patience

Champions do not cry because of defeat – they cry because they miss the feeling of immortality. Zague is trying to convey to González that that feeling is not a fixed destination but an endless journey. 'Dream big,' he says, 'but do not forget that the dream only begins when you open your eyes and face reality.' And reality, as I have learned from my own stumbles, is that the microphone is just a turn; the pitch is where you find your breath. In the emptiness of initial congratulations, González will have to find his own echo. And that, perhaps, is the only thing worth writing: that football, at every level, is ultimately a dialogue between hope and perseverance.