Pumas UNAM Absent from Rafael Márquez's First Squad: Injuries and an Unfinished Cycle

Pumas UNAM Absent from Rafael Márquez's First Squad: Injuries and an Unfinished Cycle

Hook

At one in the morning in Hanoi, I opened my phone to read Rafael Márquez's first squad list as head coach of the Mexico national team. It is an old habit: whenever a major national team announces its roster, I always read it from the bottom up — not to find the stars, but to find the missing names. In football, absence sometimes tells a clearer story than presence. And this time, the biggest absence was not a player, but an entire club: Pumas UNAM.

For someone who has spent twenty-five years following football across several continents, Pumas is no unfamiliar name. It is one of the four traditional giants of Liga MX, a club with a famous academy and a history deep enough to make any commentator tip their hat. Yet in the first call-up of the Márquez era, not a single player in the gold shirt appeared. I sat back, read every line carefully, and realised that behind this void lies a story with more layers than any sensational headline could carry.

Context

Rafael Márquez is one of the most iconic figures in Mexican football. From a centre-back who once wore the Barcelona shirt, a captain of El Tri across multiple World Cups, he stepped into the head coach's seat at a sensitive moment. Mexican football is in a generational transition. Aging pillars are gradually leaving the pitch, and a new class of players is waiting for its chance. At such a moment, Márquez's first squad list carries the weight of a manifesto about philosophy and priorities.

That list contained no Pumas player. At first glance it looks like a small detail, but for a club of Pumas' stature, it is a telling sign. Pumas UNAM, nicknamed "Los Pumas" or the Golden Lions, is one of Liga MX's strongest talent-producing clubs. Its academy has long been a launchpad for generations of national team players, from veterans to promising youngsters. Their blank sheet in Márquez's first call-up reflects a complex reality: their three most promising names are off the pitch through injury, and the fourth — Guillermo Martínez — has moved to Tigres, a wealthier and more attractive club.

César Huerta, a pacey winger, is struggling with a lower-back problem. I have watched Huerta play and was struck by his acceleration and his ability to drive down the flank. He is the kind of player any coach would want, especially when a team needs a wide attacker capable of creating something out of nothing. The fact that he was considered but ruled out through injury shows that Márquez genuinely rates him.

Alan Medina, another winger, is not at 100%. Before his injury, Medina was the leading assist provider of a tournament — no small achievement for a wide player. He belongs to the traditional winger mould, capable of beating a man and delivering dangerous crosses. In an era where the inverted winger dominates, Medina represents a quality that is becoming rare at the highest level.

Sebastián Córdova, a versatile attacking midfielder, is recovering from injury. He is regarded as a player with qualities that could serve any team, and was growing in influence at Pumas. The injury cut that progress short, and in a national-team cycle being reshaped, he is one name to keep watching. And Guillermo Martínez, who has moved to Tigres, is the most important detail for understanding the picture. Without this forward, Pumas no longer has a single player with top-level international experience.

Core

Looking at the structure of the Pumas names that might deserve a call-up, one thing stands out: all four players mentioned play in midfield or attack. No defenders, no goalkeepers. This reflects a reality of Pumas in particular and many mid-tier Liga MX clubs in general: the talent produced is concentrated in creative positions, where a player can quickly make an impression and attract the attention of the big clubs. Defenders and goalkeepers, by contrast, take longer to mature and receive less attention in promotional campaigns.

Tactically, the standout name is Víctor Arteaga. At 22, he is an important pivot in Esteban Solari's system, the Pumas head coach. What makes Arteaga a gem is not his defensive ability but his capacity to join the attack from a deeper position. In modern football, the pivot who can tackle, link play and appear in dangerous zones is a scarce commodity. Many teams are searching for a complete number six, someone who can shield the back line and trigger counter-attacks.

For years, Mexico has struggled to find a pivot capable of resisting the high press of South American and European opponents. Matches against Argentina, the Netherlands or Brazil all revealed the same problem: when the midfield is locked down, Mexico loses its ability to build play. A player like Arteaga, who can receive under pressure and keep the rhythm, could be the solution. The rise of a pivot who leaves a mark in both phases is a rare resource in modern football, and Pumas has such a name at just 22.

What is interesting is that Arteaga is being built inside a team where Solari has placed him at the heart of the system. He is a starter, trusted, and accumulating experience in a demanding environment. In football, regular club minutes are the precondition for a national-team call. Many young talents fade not for lack of ability but for lack of playing time. Arteaga has that advantage, and he is making the most of it.

Alan Medina is a different story. He is not the type of player built to be the centre of a system. He is a winger who shines in moments rather than structures. Before his injury, Medina was the leading assist provider of a tournament. That is a sign he does not merely run and cross; he also has vision and game-reading ability. For a winger, assists are a more significant metric than goals, because they show he can create chances for others rather than only seeking his own spotlight.

In modern football, traditional wingers are being steadily replaced by inverted wingers, who tend to cut inside and shoot. This trend has homogenised playing styles in many places. Tactical seminars are held to discuss it, coaches copy it, and young players are trained in it. The result is a generation of wingers with the same skill set, the same movement patterns, the same finishing style. Players like Medina, capable of beating a man one-on-one near the touchline and creating difference through crosses, become more valuable — not because they are obsolete, but because they represent diversity. Losing traditional wingers is a mistake of modern football, and Medina is an example of what has been forgotten.

Sebastián Córdova represents yet another mould. He is an attacking midfielder who can play as a winger or a number ten. This type of player is especially valuable in matches where a team needs someone to change the tempo, shift the direction of attack, or simply produce a moment of magic. Córdova is rated as having qualities that could serve any team, and he was growing into a bigger role at Pumas. But injury cut that process short.

Placing these three names on the tactical map reveals a band of talent spread across the lines: central midfield with Arteaga, the flank with Medina, and the zone between midfield and attack with Córdova. Structurally, this is a positive signal: Pumas does not produce a single type of player but an ecosystem of diverse talent. The weakness lies elsewhere: all three are off the pitch, and there is no other back-up in the Pumas squad of sufficient quality to fill the gap. This is the consequence of a squad too thin, where a few individual talents must carry the burden of an entire collective.

Now let us talk about Guillermo Martínez. His move from Pumas to Tigres is a symbolic event more than a mere transfer. Tigres is one of the richest clubs in Liga MX, able to sign the best players from domestic rivals. When a club like Pumas loses its best player to Tigres, it is a clear signal of its place in the hierarchy of Mexican football. It is a talent-producing club, a transit station, not a final destination.

This is a familiar model in world football. In Europe, clubs like Ajax, Porto, Benfica or Dortmund have all gone through this cycle: develop talent, let it shine, then sell to richer giants. In South America, clubs like River Plate, Boca Juniors or Santos do the same. In Asia, the model is even more pronounced, with clubs from the Middle East and China regularly signing young talents from Japan, South Korea or Southeast Asia. And in Vietnam, we have seen clubs like HAGL or Viettel develop generations of talented players, only for those talents not always to stay.

But in Liga MX, this model has a specific twist. The Mexican league does not have a wide-open international transfer system like Europe's, and most clubs have relatively comparable financial power. This means that a club like Tigres drawing talent from Pumas is not only about money but also about prestige and appeal. Players want to play for teams capable of competing for titles and offering a chance of a national-team call. And once a club already has many national-team players, recruiting more becomes easier, because players feel they will be more visible. This is a spiral that mid-tier clubs struggle to break.

From Pumas' perspective, losing Martínez is not just losing a player. It is losing a competitive edge in the race for national-team attention. In football, having national-team players brings many benefits: it raises the club's prestige, attracts fans, increases a player's transfer value, and motivates young players. When Pumas no longer has any representative in El Tri, it loses part of its arsenal in the competition with rivals.

So what should Pumas do to break this cycle? There are several approaches. They could focus on long-term contracts with young talents, giving them room to develop and selling only when it benefits the club. They could build an attractive playing system, drawing players through style of play. They could invest in facilities and coaching staff to create a stable development environment. But all of this requires time, money and patience — things not every club has.

From the national team's perspective, the absence of any Pumas player in Márquez's first list raises a question about the depth of the resource pool. A strong national team does not rely only on stars from big clubs. It needs a broad base across clubs, so that when a star is injured, there is a replacement. If Mexico relies only on a few big clubs, it becomes more vulnerable. Overlooking a club like Pumas may not affect short-term results, but it can reduce the team's depth in the long run.

I have witnessed a similar situation in Vietnamese football. There were periods when the national team depended too heavily on a few clubs, and when those clubs faced squad difficulties, the national team suffered too. That is why good coaches search for talent everywhere, not only in familiar places. They understand that football is an ecosystem, and its strength depends on the diversity and depth of its resources.

In Márquez's case, his first squad list may only be a beginning. New coaches tend to be cautious in their first selections and expand their search only once they have settled in. If Márquez truly believes in building a team on depth, he will look to clubs like Pumas in the future. And if Pumas can keep its talents until they are given a chance, the story could be different.

Back to the legal point, one detail needs clarifying. The phrase "Pumas will not lend any player to the Mexico national team" sounds like an act of refusal. But under FIFA rules on releasing players during international windows, clubs have no right to refuse when a player is called up. In this case, simply no Pumas player was called up. This is an omission from the list, not an administrative act. Distinguishing the two concepts matters, because it shows the story is sporting rather than legal.

The 2026 World Cup will be hosted by the United States, Canada and Mexico, and this is a World Cup of special significance for North American football. Mexico will have the chance to play at home. The pressure to succeed will be enormous, not only on the coach but on the entire Mexican football system. At such a moment, building a team with depth and diversity is a precondition. Márquez, as a new coach, will need time to find the right people — and Pumas, with its young talents, could be part of the solution.

For that to happen, Pumas must overcome the obstacles in front of it. Injury is the first. Its three most promising players need to return to the pitch and find form. This is not simple, because injury affects not only fitness but also psychology. Many players take months, even years, to regain confidence after a serious injury. Whether they receive proper support from the medical team and coaching staff will decide their future.

The second obstacle is talent retention. Guillermo Martínez has gone, and other players may receive similar offers. If Pumas cannot persuade them to stay, it will continue to lose valuable talents. This demands a clear strategy on contracts, remuneration and player development — things mid-tier clubs often lack.

The third obstacle is tactical. For its players to be called up, Pumas must play a brand of football compatible with the system Márquez is building. If Solari builds a different style, his players may struggle to adapt to the national team. This is no small challenge, because club coaches usually have their own philosophies. The connection between club and national team is an important factor many overlook.

I remember a match I once watched, in which Pumas played a big club. It was a match in which Solari used Arteaga at the heart of midfield, and the young player produced a memorable performance. He not only did his defensive job well but joined attacks frequently, switching play and creating dangerous situations for teammates. At one moment, he received the ball under pressure from two opponents, turned, and delivered a long pass precisely into the path of a teammate surging forward. That is a moment you do not often see from a 22-year-old. I thought then: if Arteaga keeps developing at that level, he cannot remain outside the national team's radar forever.

But football does not work the way we want. A player can play well at club level yet not be called up for many reasons: the coach does not yet trust him, the timing is wrong, or simply someone else is better in that position. In Arteaga's case, he has one important advantage: his position is one Mexico needs. If he maintains form and fitness, the chance will come.

As for Huerta, Medina and Córdova, their future depends on recovery and rediscovering form. In football, injury is part of the game, but how players overcome injury is what distinguishes the great from the ordinary. Players who have come through injury and returned stronger often have a deeper understanding of themselves and of the game. If Huerta, Medina and Córdova can get through this difficult period, they may return stronger.

Contrarian

There is another reading few consider: Pumas' absence from Márquez's first list could be a good sign, not a bad one. In the history of Mexican football, national-team transitions often begin by calling up players already familiar with the old system. That causes smaller clubs to be overlooked — not because they lack talent, but because a new coach needs time to build trust. If after a few windows Márquez begins calling players from mid-tier clubs, it will show he is genuinely searching for talent everywhere, not relying only on familiar names. Today's void could become tomorrow's open door.

The absence of any Pumas call-up may also carry positive developmental meaning. When a club is not under pressure to supply national-team players in the short term, it can keep its young players focused on developing at club level. The pressure to prove oneself internationally can distract young players or lead to injury. In one sense, a period of absence can be a necessary pause for players like Arteaga to accumulate more club experience before entering the harsher international arena.

It is important not to confuse "no player was called up" with "no player is good enough". These are two different concepts. Pumas has at least one player — Arteaga — who is ticking enough boxes to be called up in the near future: fitness, consistent form, and a tactical position Mexico needs. His not being called up does not mean he is unworthy; it only means the timing was not right. Football is not read through scorelines, but through the heartbeat of those in the stands — and that heartbeat, at Pumas, is still waiting for a day when it is called by name.

Takeaway

Pumas' absence from Rafael Márquez's first squad reminds us of a simple truth about football: talent does not disappear, it only waits for the right moment and the right opportunity. For Arteaga, Medina, Córdova and Huerta, that moment has not come — but it remains ahead, and how they return to the pitch will decide whether the national-team door opens. For Pumas, the lesson lies elsewhere: a club can produce however much talent it likes, but its true strength lies in keeping that talent long enough for it to shine in its own colours. Writing about football is sitting with people, listening to them tell the story of the match in which they were once themselves — and the story of Pumas' players today may, perhaps, be the opening chapter of another spring for Mexican football. When the pitch falls silent of shouting, we finally hear football's sigh — and sometimes, within that sigh, lies the seed of a new spring.