The Starting Spot War at América: When Almada Must Choose Between Identity and Ego

Miguel Borja came on in the 70th minute. He scored. The next match, again from the bench, he scored again. Three goals in a handful of minutes — enough to make the Azteca crowd murmur, enough for the Mexican press to nickname him 'Colibrí' (Hummingbird), and enough to put Guillermo Almada in the position every big-club coach fears: when too many men are worthy, whom do you choose?

But this is not merely a story about a striker seizing a starting spot. It is a story about a club standing at the threshold of squad restructuring, where four new signings do more than create competitive pressure — they force the manager to redefine the way an entire collective plays. On one evening watching América, what caught my attention was not the goals, but the moment a center-back quietly stepped up into holding midfield — a sign that a shift is unfolding in silence.

América is the most decorated club in Mexican football history, and also its most loved — and hated. Liga MX's structure of two short tournaments a year (Apertura and Clausura) plus a playoff bracket called the Liguilla shapes a very particular squad-building philosophy: depth matters more than the eleven best names. A club that wants to be champion must survive a congested calendar where fitness and rotation decide who is still standing in the final match.

In the recent window, América brought in four signings across three lines simultaneously: center-back Santiago Bueno, midfielder Carlos Álvarez, Brazilian playmaker Raphael Veiga and striker Miguel Borja. Four deals, four positions, but only three areas truly compressed: central defense, attacking midfield and center-forward.

For a club of América's stature, such a spree is a clear signal: they are preparing for a long season with both Concacaf continental competition and the Liguilla. But at the same time, it creates an effect Mexican media call 'levantan la mano' — new players confidently raising their hands for a starting spot, while incumbents are forced to prove their worth.

Notably, the club has disclosed no financial figures for any of the deals. No transfer fees, no contract structures, no wages. In one sense, that silence is also a signal — but that is a story for another piece.

Reading the lineup signals closely, I see América's problem is not schematic but positional. The four signings are compressing three positional clusters, and it is this compression — not any tactical switch — that will shape every Almada decision in the coming weeks.

The most revealing tactical signal is the experiment of pushing Israel Reyes into holding midfield.

Reyes is a center-back. Converting him into a No. 6 is the classic solution to two problems at once: clearing congestion in central defense and adding build-up security from deep. Tellingly, the experiment has already been trialed in a real match, not on a whiteboard. Almada has a live plan, not a hypothesis.

If Reyes permanently moves up, América likely reverts to a back four rather than a back three — because pushing a center-back into midfield only makes structural sense if the back line loses a man. It is a knock-on change that could alter how the team presses and defends.

The second problem sits up front. Almada faces a binary choice: switch to a two-striker 4-4-2 to pair Borja with Henry Martín, or keep a single No. 9 and bench one. This has the biggest domino effect on the rest of the eleven — it dictates how many wingers and No. 10s are used.

The No. 10 and left-interior corridor is the third bottleneck. Alejandro Zendejas is back from surgery, Raphael Veiga is a Brazilian creator with 'intermittent' form, and Carlos Álvarez is a versatile Spaniard. Three candidates for roughly one-and-a-half slots — meaning at least one worthy player must sit out.

In a recent match, I noticed Álvarez was introduced in central midfield rather than at No. 10. A small detail that reveals much: Almada is using his versatility as a pressure valve for midfield, not as a direct backup for Veiga. That is how a good coach turns congestion into tactical flexibility.

It is not only a tactical puzzle, but a management of egos. The four signings arrive with serious résumés — Veiga has won the Copa Libertadores, Borja has worn Colombia's shirt, Álvarez has played in La Liga. Men like that do not come to sit. And when they sit, it is not only a sporting problem but a dressing-room one. A big club can survive defeat on the pitch; it cannot survive internal fracture.

On numbers, the only hard fact the media has cited is Borja's three goals in limited minutes. But I wonder if that figure is truly so trustworthy. Three goals off the bench often come against tired defenses, and extrapolating them into a full starting role may overstate his readiness. That is the familiar small-sample trap — something anyone tracking per-90 data knows well. In years of watching football, I have learned that a substitute who scores does not automatically become a starter; he merely becomes a man who gets asked about.

But there is an angle Mexican media missed when calling this an 'intractable problem.' In a short-tournament league with a playoff, squad congestion is not a crisis — it is a strategic weapon.

Look at the calendar. A club competing in both Liga MX and Concacaf continental cups will play over thirty matches in a few months. Under those conditions, the team that rotates best wins the title. América is not struggling with having too many good players; it is arming itself with the strength that rivals like Tigres and Monterrey are also trying to build.

The media frames the 'raising hands' pressure as a threat to dressing-room stability. I partly agree — but I argue the biggest risk is not competition, but decision paralysis. In a short tournament, hesitating over who to pick is a far greater risk than picking the wrong man.

The more interesting blind spot lies in how the media treats Zendejas. It admits he is still 'far' from his pre-injury level, yet still frames him as a threatened starter. For a player returning from a two-month layoff, recovery takes four to eight competitive matches to reach peak. So in the short term, his position is more fragile than anyone's — and that very fragility creates a discreet pressure valve for Almada: he can blood Álvarez without 'demoting' anyone. Sometimes one man's absence opens a door for another without anyone taking the blame.

And there is a risk the media has not mentioned: if foreign signings reduce the minutes of a domestic youngster like Emiliano Lara, América could brush against the 'regla de menores' — the rule requiring a minimum number of youth minutes. A tangible, if soft, cost for a decision that appears purely sporting.

I still believe this: football is not read by scores, but by the pulse of hearts in the stands. At América, those pulses are racing more than ever — not out of anxiety over a starting spot, but because an entire collective is learning to hold more than itself.

Griezmann does not celebrate, Godin weeps — the match ends but brotherhood does not. At the Azteca, the story may differ, but the emotion is similar: a Henry Martín entering the twilight of his career, a Borja knocking on the future's door, and in between a coach who must decide who will be the face of América for the next three months.

If Almada chooses wrong, people will remember Borja's three goals. If he chooses right, they will forget there was ever a competition. And perhaps the most valuable question is not 'who should start,' but 'what kind of club does América want to be when Henry Martín no longer leads the attack.'