From 24 to 1: 'Hormiga' González, El Tri, and the Trap of Small Samples

There is a line in my notebook. I wrote it in February 2026, on the night of the Iceland match. Four numbers, set side by side: 24 – 4 – 1 – 1. Twenty-four goals in one season for Chivas of Guadalajara. Four goals and one assist in his first few official matches for Olympiacos in Greece. And for Mexico's national team, El Tri, a total of one goal and one assist.

The same foot. The same finishing touch. Three different shirts. Three different results. When a 24-goal striker scores once for his country, a sentence forms for him in the Mexican media's dictionary — 'falta de gol', the absence of goals. But if the table and the tape are staring at each other, the real question is not about the goal count. The real question is: who is writing these numbers, and over how many minutes.

I write in timecodes because memory lies in smooth motion. A goal count is as smooth as memory — it tells you how many times the net shook, but not why it shook, from whose pass it shook, or in which minute he came on to make it shake. In the case of Hormiga González, that distinction is the whole story.

Context: From the Chivas Factory to the Port of Piraeus

Armando 'Hormiga' González is a son of Mexican football's most conservative yet most productive factory. Chivas de Guadalajara — a member-owned club, an institution that follows a policy of fielding only Mexican players. There is a side to this policy that is rarely written about: the club builds its own boys, then sells them to Europe. This can be called the Liga MX exporter model. González is the latest product of that model — a 24-goal season, then a move to Olympiacos in Greece.

Olympiacos is itself a step in the European football food chain. It buys young attacking talent from Latin America and Mexico, develops them, and sells them upward. This is the club's old business mould — buy cheap, develop, sell high. In González's case, four goals and one assist in his first few matches means the mould is working so far.

But there is a gap in the transfer paperwork that we must acknowledge. Fee, instalments, add-ons, sell-on clauses — none are public. Member-owned Mexican clubs typically sell abroad with a sell-on percentage, because then the club retains a share of the player's next transfer too. Here, that structure is an inference, not evidence. Every transfer has a paper trail, and every paper trail has a pulse — but to catch this pulse we need more paper, which we do not currently have.

El Tri's context is different. Javier Aguirre's Mexico is now built around Raúl Jiménez. Jiménez is senior, established, a blend of target man and false nine. Beside him as co-protagonist is Julián Quiñones. In this two-man attack, where is González's place? The answer is uncomfortably simple: rotation, substitute, and the final few minutes.

Core Analysis: The Problem Is Not Finishing, It Is Role

González's only international goal came from a low cross, finished from inside the box. That cross from Gallardo was exactly the pattern that produced his 24-goal season at Chivas. A penalty-box predator, a box-arrival finisher, someone who receives the ball inside the area and ends the touch.

This fact is the most important, because it shows the problem is not technical. González has not forgotten how to score. He is not being given the place to score.

Over years of watching matches, I have learned to recognise a pattern — the substitute-striker problem. If someone comes on in the 70th minute, his number of touches in the box stays low, his body needs time to warm up, and rhythm simply does not form. In this situation, a box-finisher's numbers stay suppressed, whatever his quality. Against South Africa, González came on in the final minutes — this is not an evaluation, it is a mathematical ceiling.

Here lies a coaching-usage contradiction. Aguirre 'did not take him much into account'. Yet that same Aguirre included him in the World Cup squad and called him 'a piece with potential for the future'. To Rafa Márquez, González shows 'good things but is not decisive'.

The differing emphasis of these two coaches has a meaning. Aguirre likes the profile but has not given the current starting role; Márquez sees the talent but not yet the end product. This is the classic 'development asset, held in reserve' pattern. When two staff members pull in two directions, the player's minutes take longer to settle, and if minutes do not settle, rhythm does not form.

In a Jiménez-centric model, González's most likely path is to be a second-half game-changer rather than a starter. This role will keep his goal tally permanently volatile. That is not his fault; it is the consequence of his seat.

The attacking hierarchy here is seniority-based. Jiménez first, Quiñones beside, González behind. For a young forward, the fastest route to a bigger role is one of two things: either Jiménez's phase-out, or an explosive run of goals. Neither is guaranteed on current minutes.

One thing I want to make clear, because many conflate it. In the case of El Tri strikers, the Mexican public treats goals as currency. Club form and national-team goal counts are two different things to them, and the national-team number carries more weight. That is why the gap between González's 24 and 1 is not merely statistical — it is cultural.

What the Table Says, What the Tape Says

The table says González has failed for El Tri. The tape says the story is different. The 4-0 win over Iceland was his most productive match — one goal and one assist. But what kind of match was it? An open, high-tempo game, where there was space for a box-finisher. If Mexico plays its next match against a low block, against a dense defence, his involvement will drop further.

The Iceland match is doing the work of a narrative anchor — at once proof of his ability and a tool for inflating expectations. Judging a young forward on a single match is the small-sample trap. The article itself has stayed cautious, calling it 'so far' his most productive match.

But caution does not survive in the Mexican media environment. Once the 'no marca' tag — he does not score — attaches, it overrides the data. The figure of one goal and one assist is currently doing far more narrative work than its actual statistical weight.

The smallest club taught the league how to count — that was Aizawl FC in 2026, who won the title with 37 points. Today's context is different, but the lesson is the same: when the table and the tape say different things, the tape must be heard first. In González's case, the tape says his touches in the box are few, his service is few, his minutes are few. The table only sees the result, because it does not see the process.

I have a habit that many editors find irritating: I add a specific footnote to every emotional scene. At the France versus Argentina match in Kazan in 2026, Mbappé was 19 years and 6 months old, he scored in the 57th and 68th minutes, and his second came from a 60-metre run. In my notebook I wrote: '19y6m, 2 goals, 68', 60m'. The editor wanted poetry; I kept the footnote.

A footnote can outgrow the headline. Ask Mbappé in 2026. In González's case, the footnote says: 24 goals at Chivas, 4 at Olympiacos, 1 for El Tri — and the difference between these three is not a difference in quality between club and country, it is a difference in role and minutes.

Contrarian Angle: Why 'Lack of Goals' Is the Wrong Frame

The Mexican media frame is simple: a young star, called the 'major bet' for the attack, has not met expectations. But this frame itself is questionable.

First, who created the expectation? The 24 club goals. Yet if someone does not start for the national team, plays seventy-odd minutes, then the 24-goal yardstick simply does not apply. Mexican fans and media are placing the club-form yardstick directly onto the national team, which is methodologically wrong.

Second, the phrase 'falta de gol' frames a player's character. Yet González's only goal came from exactly the pattern that is his speciality — a low-cross finish inside the box. The ability is there; the opportunity is not. Without understanding the difference between these two, the analysis goes the wrong way.

Third, Mexico's forward line now stands at a generational turn. Jiménez is senior; his role will reduce in future. Quiñones and González are rising. This succession window is González's real opportunity — but the window opens slowly, not in one season.

What is most overlooked is the differing reading of the two coaches. If Aguirre's limited usage and Márquez's positive reading coexist, the player's minutes become staff-dependent, and staff-dependent minutes mean unstable rhythm. A rhythmless box-finisher will have low goal numbers — this is a first principle of football, not a personal failure.

I am not saying González has no problem. I am saying the address of the problem is being given wrongly. The door is shut, but the key is not in the player's pocket.

Takeaway: What to Watch

Not González's goal count, but his per-90 numbers and his rate of touches in the box. A small sample means volatility in both directions — a good scoring run could change both the narrative and the market value in one leap. If he starts in Mexico's next international window, the account will have to be rewritten.

The question, then, is not about the absence of goals. The question is — who will open the door for him, and in which minute.