Every four years, football writers from around the world will be whimsically redeployed from their usual stations and assigned to the Copa America, CONMEBOL’s continental competition in which Argentina and Uruguay reign supreme. Mandatory column inches are filled with empty statements and verbose nothingness, playing on global stereotypes and hinged on whatever relevance can be mustered to European audiences. Meanwhile, those who still intoxicate themselves with that idealistic and pure endeavour once known as journalism actually leave their bedrooms, dare to do some research, and provide insights that made each one seem like a 21st century Nostradamus.
Predictions along the lines of ‘Peru won’t get out of their group’, ‘fans aren’t happy with Ecuador’s Head Coach’, and, ‘the US still have a long way to go’ made these journalists prescient oracles when Peru in fact exited bottom of their group without scoring, Felix Sanchez Bas was dismissed by Ecuador after a quarterfinal exit, and the hosts USA failed to get out of their group and promptly started lifting their skirts in the direction of Jurgen Klopp and Mauricio Pochettino.
The bravest writers, perhaps giddy from the fresh air found on leaving the house, quietly whispered that Venezuela could end the tournament as overachieving underdogs. With Salomon Rondón rottweiling up front and Yeferson Soteldo poodling in behind, the silently heralded next generation had reference points of experience and excellence to leash onto.
Teenage sensation Kervin Andrade, who had notched up more goal involvements in Brazilian football (11) than Endrick (6) so far in 2024, was called up, as was Jon Aramburu (Real Sociedad, La Liga) and Telasco Segovia (Casa Pia, Liga Portugal). On a five-game unbeaten run and sitting fourth in World Cup qualifying, there was no need to embellish Venezuela’s credentials – they just needed to be heard in the first place.
In typical fashion, the Venezuelan Football Federation did almost nothing to counter the tired tropes and backhanded compliments thrown the national team’s way in the buildup to the first post-COVID Copa America. Their Group B opposition Ecuador, Mexico, and Jamaica all prepared with official warm-up friendlies or even Nations League fixtures. Venezuela didn’t. Instead, they played an informal training game against a team from the National Independent Soccer Association (the US’s so-called third tier), who are playing just their second season as a professional club. The Federation did release perhaps the best squad announcement video of any participating country, though.
Largely, the hype would have to be homegrown. The fans would have to create the fanfare. They did not disappoint.
Anyone who immersed themselves in the summer’s other football tournament, would have encountered the phrase ‘Mano, Tengo Fe’ (Bro, I Have Faith), be it in the stands, in the commentary, or in match reports. Back home, numerous brands plastered it across their products to show their support for the national team; in the stadiums, banners and shirts carried the words; and on social media even the official CONMEBOL accounts were savouring the slogan. The 2021 meme, repurposed from a Fast & Furious line, became the 2024 mantra.
The growth of the phrase was organic. It’s coming of age was rapturous. When La Vinotinto completed a comeback in their first game versus Ecuador, when Rafael Romo saved an 87th minute penalty to secure a win over Mexico, and when Rondón scored a ridiculous half-volley from 40 yards against Canada, the words on every Venezuelan’s lips were “Mano, Tengo Fe!”
So why was there an underlying sense of self-deprecation among the fans?
Well, being an optimist in Venezuelan football is almost collectively frowned upon. Be so and you will inevitably come across some embittered busybody or football sceptic all too happy to remind you that they’re the only CONMEBOL nation yet to qualify for the World Cup, that baseball is the national sport, and that the country lacks a football culture. They’re not wrong, but what is a continental football competition if not an opportunity to enter a collective delirium? Better still, an opportunity to redefine a country’s essence in the collective conscience? To rewrite limiting, outdated narratives?
During their quarterfinal – yes, they advanced past the group stages – world feed commentator Paul Dempsey channelled his inner Peter Drury for the most succinct and poetic description of what the tournament meant for the country: “This isn’t a football match; it’s a national happening for Venezuela.”
Dempsey provided the kind of succinct insight other pundits, journalists, and commentators made look like quantum physics.
Venezuela’s first encounter was with Ecuador, a country currently synonymous with plying the European market with the Next Big Thing. Venezuela were without their generational wonderkid David Martinez (18, LAFC) through injury, but La Tri had theirs. Rather audaciously handed the #10 shirt, 17-year-old Kendry Paez looked fully deserving of his future Chelsea player status when captain Enner Valencia was sent off for his best Karate Kid impression inside his own box. If you haven’t heard of Brujo Martinez, Brazilian giants Corinthians have just brought him from Philadelphia Union and the headlines describe him as a pitbull. It’s a fair assessment given the way he rode studs to the throat and chest with trademark brawn and bravado.
For the entirety of the first half, pre- and post- Valencia’s Jet Li moment, Ecuador had Venezuela on strings, forcing them into a physical scrap of a game they weren’t cut out for. Jeremy Sarmiento tormented Venezuela’s right side and got the opener and his midfield teammates were much smarter with their disruptions. It was a fight Venezuela weren’t box clever for but they managed to make it to the bell before irreparable harm was done.
The shine of Paez’s young class was tarnished by Ecaudor’s man deficit and his necessary role change. Meanwhile, Bocha Batista, Venezuela’s Argentine Head Coach, was setting his stall for the tournament: superb game management. He boldly but necessarily withdrew the booked Cristian Casseres Jr. and Darwin Machis at half-time and brought on Eduard Bello and Jhonder Cadiz. Both substitutes scored as Venezuela secured a 2-1 win from behind and in doing so demonstrated Batista’s flexibility and fluid thinking when it came to tactics and strategy. It wouldn’t be the last time we saw game-defining substitutions from Venezuela. Of the eight teams who made the quarterfinals, no team had made more half-time changes than Batista (3).
While Batista masterminded from the dugout, Salomon Rondón was rolling back the years on-field to be named the official Man of the Match in all three group stage games. The former West Brom, Newcastle, and Everton man was putting in his best performances with the national team in years and in the process would become Venezuela’s leading Copa America goalscorer of all-time.
As Liga MX’s reigning Golden Boot winner, Mexico were familiar with Rondon, and although he scored the only goal of the night, it was the emergence of Jon Aramburu that blindsided them and casual viewers alike. On his first competitive start for the national team, the 21-year-old Real Sociedad right back gave the perfect job interview.
For the TV, he won the penalty for Rondón’s winner and made a decisive slide tackle in the box in the closing moments, and for the number nerds, he made four clearances, two interceptions, and nine tackles. According to SofaScore, it was the 7th best individual performance of the tournament (8.6) and he would better it versus Canada (8.8). But first came Jamaica.
Alongside Aramburu and Rondón, 34-year-old Universidad Católica goalkeeper Rafael Romo completed Venezuela’s trio of standout performers, yet against Jamaica he didn’t have much to do. Just the one save was required of him, while the literally pointless Reggae Boyz conceded their fifth, sixth, and seventh goals of the tournament in a rampant second half showing from La Vinotinto. It included a debut and assist for 19-year-old Kervin Andrade just 11 minutes after he came on for Telasco Segovia and an assist from Jon Aramburu, this time from left back.
The blend of aging quality and youthful talent was firing on all cylinders and history was made: for the first time ever La Vinotinto were finishing the group stages with full points.
In that delicate dance between players and their public, Venezuela were perfectly in-step. Their American diaspora and wealthier travelling fans packed Austin FC’s Q2 Stadium for the victory over Jamaica and put on a show in the stands the likes of which had never been seen before. Faith had been there all along, but now support was building; belief was building.
By now, Batista only had one selection headache left to remedy: who should join Girona’s Yangel Herrera and Philadelphia Union’s Brujo Martinez in the midfield. Against Ecuador it had been Toulouse’s Cristian Casseres; Mexico, Botafogo’s Jefferson Savarino; and Jamaica, Telasco Segovia. What had also become increasingly evident was that Batista was a tournament manager.
His game management had so far been spot on. As well as the aforementioned game-changing half-time substitutions that had turned one losing and one drawing position into six points, the former Argentina U23 Head Coach had also avoided costly player suspensions, been sensitive to underperformance and opposition exploits, and had made fantastic use of his captain. Not only did Rondon lead the line with a goal involvement in all four of Venezuela’s games, but he also led by example and embraced the responsibility with such exuberance that it seemed to rejuvenate the experienced striker.
When teammates harassed the referee, overwhelmed and over-enthused, Rondon’s calm head and well-earned authority kept the peace. When Mexico’s Santiago Gimenez and Julian Quinones began successfully shithousing Venezuela’s spine, Rondon was deployed to put them back in their place and he demanded deference from a visibly intimidated Quinones. When Canada had Venezuela on the ropes in the quarterfinals, unable to live up to their ‘favourites’ tag, Rondon levelled the score with the goal of the tournament and gave Venezuela just under half an hour to secure a spot in the semifinal versus Argentina.
And that’s where we pick up the end of this story. That’s where we pick up what Dempsey so eloquently described as a “national happening”.
After the game, Canada goalkeeper Maxime Crepeau would praise the Venezuela fans for their support and particularly their rendition of the national anthem, which he said gave him goosebumps. Yet when Rondon equalised, Crepeau cut the figure of the loneliest man on the pitch. His teammates had missed a criminal number of chances and now things were level on paper and momentum was favouring Venezuela on grass.
The day before the quarterfinal, the presidential election campaigns had begun with marches and rallies by both sides. A prominent member of the controlling party was about to see his son make his competitive national team debut in no less than the quarterfinals of the Copa America and the leader of the opposition had paraded through the streets of Caracas in the national team shirt.
Class can divide Venezuelans. Financial inequality can divide Venezuelans. But most things cannot divide Venezuelans. Venezuela is a country whose people have an insatiable desire for unity, for conversation, for community, for co-operation, for human kindness. Modern football has lost a lot over the years. Modern football has left a lot to be desired for, too. But when football can still mean something on a national scale, when a positive result can still give a country a facelift, it’s still a magical sport.
The 90 minutes against Canada contained all the ingredients necessary for a magical outcome: hope, fear, helplessness, wonder, enlightenment, pain, and joy.
But Venezuela had already used their magic: Rondon’s equaliser. Instead, the game was to culminate in a lottery. The 90 minutes ended in a draw and a penalty shootout would decide who advanced. Depending on the algorithm used, a penalty has an xG value of 0.76-0.79. That means 76-79% of penalties are scored. Yet, as all football fans know for better and for worse, the preciseness of numbers and the exacting nature of their data overlords repeatedly falls foul to narratives and intangibles. More so from 12 yards.
Venezuela lost the penalty shootout 4-3. Nobody needs to shoulder blame in this write-up nor any post-mortem that may or, more likely, may not appear. What is certain is that a win would have kept Venezuela in the global footballing conscience for two more games. They would have forced their case into sports talk show discussion around the world. The fans would have continued to have faith. Instead, all eyes towards Venezuela quickly returned to seeing the country through a political lens. The football world, as insular as it often is, turned its attention to World Cup qualification: the upcoming cliché-ridden prospect of Bolivia away at altitude and then the hosting of Marcelo Bielsa’s Uruguay. History was made and history repeats. Rinse and repeat. Football and sleep.
You can be as sure of this as you can be of anything in this beautiful game, though: from now until September 2025, if you speak to a Venezuelan about football, along with whatever else they will tell you, they will certainly say, “Mano, Tengo Fe”!
