The Same Cat, Just Rolled Over: Mexico's Midfield and the Quiet Wait for October 3

Two matches. Both 1-1. Colombia, then Peru. On a scoreboard, there is no milder result than that — two draws that seem to say, quietly, that nothing much happened on the pitch. Yet in Mexican football talk, these two matches have stirred something that feels like a small collapse. Before Rafa Márquez had even finished his first international window, the criticism had already begun. From whom? Ricardo 'Tuca' Ferretti — one of the elder voices of Mexican football, speaking on the television programme Futbol Picante.

His central line is a single sentence: "The same cat, just rolled over." The cat has not changed; it has only been rolled onto its other side. The team's appearance has shifted, its nature has not. But right beside that verdict, he adds, "The process has only just begun." That tension between the two sentences is the real story here — a hard judgment on one hand, and a quiet loosening of that judgment on the other.

I learned to write the way my father sold fish: hold it up, let it shine, then see who comes to buy. So I am not going to swallow this criticism whole. First I want to see what is inside it and what is missing. And one thing must be made clear from the start: this information set contains no process data from the matches — no xG, no possession figures, no pass maps, no pressing metrics. What exists is one man's eye and one man's mouth. That is not disrespect; it is a reminder of what we should verify and what we should simply not assume.

Rafa Márquez — known to Mexican football as a legendary player — took charge after Javier Aguirre. This is his first FIFA Date window. Two friendlies: against Colombia and Peru, both 1-1 draws. Friendly results carry less competitive weight, but in the Mexican media environment their narrative weight is far heavier. Then comes the October 3 fixture against the United States in Glendale, Arizona. Broadcast: Azteca 7, Vix, TUDN — meaning the commercial reach is large, and that is exactly why the criticism arrives so fast.

What catches the eye before kickoff is not the result but the timing. Márquez has two matches, two draws, not a single win. A new coach usually produces a 'new-manager bounce' — a small improvement in results right after the appointment. Here it is absent. Instead, the opposite: the questions began in his very first window. That is the clearest signal of Mexico's current environment. One thing deserves separate mention — Julián Quiñones was not available for the two matches. The reason was never stated; injury, club restriction, or personal matter, none of it is confirmed. Without a reason, no conclusion can be drawn, only a gap left open.

The technical part of Ferretti's critique is small but precise. He argues that Roberto Alvarado occupies the same vertical corridors through which Álvaro Fidalgo and Isaías Violante should be advancing into the space ahead. In plain terms: Alvarado's positioning is closing off the space where Fidalgo and Violante should be receiving the ball between the lines. This is not a philosophical critique — it is a spatial-occupation conflict, what football calls a half-space clash: when two players drift into the same corridor, one eats the other's room.

Ferretti does not treat this as new. He says the problem existed before the 2026 World Cup, and even earlier. He speaks of a pattern running for 'two and a half years.' His diagnosis, then, is not match-specific but a squad-profile deficit — not a coaching failure. A subtle but important distinction hides here, one that slips away from the centre of the debate.

The second claim is more tangled. Ferretti says Mexico has no wingers, yet the team keeps playing with a winger-dependent dynamic. But immediately after, he says that starting Hirving 'Chucky' Lozano would change nothing. On the surface, the two sentences contradict each other. In truth, they do not — they signal something. If even Lozano's introduction brings no change, the problem is not the player but the instruction. The team's instructions may be telling wide players to tuck inside, so whoever plays drifts into the same corridor and compresses the midfield. The real target of the criticism, then, is not personnel but role instruction.

I stop here and think of my own experience. In the 2026 World Cup I watched Mbappé's run from a tea stall in Rajshahi, the power cutting out again and again. Mbappé ran like the lights were about to fail, and I knew that boy — the boys who play under generator lights. Speed and light, both are fleeting. Márquez's Mexico is in that state now: what we see may not be the real light, but a shadow drawn in half-darkness.

This picture must be placed in a larger frame. In CONCACAF, Mexico is a continental powerhouse — but right now it is in a phase of transition. The naming of the young midfielder Violante suggests the project is moving toward youth integration. The presence of a technical midfielder like Fidalgo suggests the coach trusts a pass-oriented, interior pairing that requires clean half-space access. So if someone truly occupies that corridor, the whole structure cannot stand. This is not one player's problem — it is a plan's weak point.

Now to the part the conventional discussion skips. First, the criticism has a single source — one pundit's television remark. There is no match data. Declaring a structural trend from two friendly results means running far ahead of the evidence. Mexican football media seems to apply immediate-results pressure even to friendlies, and that pressure can push a coach toward conservative, results-first choices. That runs against the game itself.

Second, the critic himself says 'the process has only just begun.' That concession undercuts the severity of his own critique. If the process has just begun, how reasonable is a structural verdict after two matches? This self-limiting narrative actually reveals that the problem is not Márquez, but that old squad profile — present long before he arrived.

Third, between 'no wingers' and 'Lozano would change nothing' hides a larger truth: this debate is about instructions, not players. That is good news, because instructions can be changed; filling a player shortage takes years. If the problem really is a half-space clash, the solution lies on the pitch — deciding who owns which corridor.

Fourth, publicly pointing a finger at Alvarado creates a management dilemma. Márquez must choose one of three hard paths: restructure to make room for him, drop him, or defend him publicly. Each carries a cost.

One thing must be remembered: a 4-0 scoreline can be louder in its silence than any goal. In May 2026 I watched Dortmund versus Schalke in an empty stadium; the silence of a full ground felt like a funeral. Mexico's two 1-1 draws are exactly that kind of mild result — which seems to say nothing happened, yet keeps saying something unsaid.

The most credible risk, then, is not in the coach but in that old structure — the shortage of wide and creative supply. And the real moment of verification comes on October 3, in Glendale, against the United States. That match is a mirror of Mexico's standing in CONCACAF, and at the same time the first test of Márquez's project. If the result against the United States goes badly, pundit criticism could turn into organised fan pressure. And if a convincing win arrives, the narrative will flip quickly — because narratives built on such small samples break just as fast.

I do not know whether Márquez's cat will truly turn around. But this I do know: a debate born from two friendlies usually lasts as long as its foundation. The question is not today's — it is the one after October 3.