And then, suddenly, there was Mikel Merino circling the corner flag again, another marvellous moment to emulate his father Ángel Miguel and embrace his son Marco. To hold those who got him here and the whole of Spain, who would have hugged him back if they had the chance. There was pandemonium up in Pamplona especially: on the day the San Fermín fiestas begin with the city wearing white shirts and red neckerchiefs in celebration of their patron saint, they celebrated the son they have out in the US too.
Merino was born in the Navarrese capital the day Spain lost to England at Euro 96. Now, wearing white and red like everyone back home, he had scored the late, late goal that sent the selección into the World Cup quarter-finals: a hero once more, the fiesta was taken to every corner of the country.
Normal time was up on this last-16 clash that could have been a final and the only thing cutting through the tension was the Mexican wave bafflingly going round this Arlington arena when Merino was fouled outside the area. There were tired men out there, but he wasn’t one of them. He had only been on the pitch six minutes and, while others shuffled aching limbs into position, he sprang up and took it quickly. The ball went to Fabián Ruiz and to Ferran Torres and, with a clever pass, back to Merino, who was on the move once more. There, inside the area, he beat Diogo Costa.
Three subs had combined to win it, Spain erupting. A familiar tale was told, a picture seen before. There had been 65 seconds left when Merino headed Spain into the semi final of Euro 2024; there was even less time left when he escaped everyone to score the goal that took them through to a World Cup quarter-final two years on.
Back then he had circled the corner flag, copying the celebration his dad had performed after getting a last-minute winner for Osasuna 33 years earlier. This time he did it again, for his father and for the two-month-old son he has hardly seen.
One day Merino will tell Marco what his dad and his grandad did and why. For now he is too young and too far away to tell him anything. For five of his son’s eight weeks of life, Merino has been in the US, sent off across the Atlantic on a mission. “When they told me about my injury, I thought I would not be at the World Cup, but here I am,” he said. Spain’s coach, Luis de la Fuente, told him he would wait, but the stress fracture in his foot defied easy analysis at first. He spent two months on crutches and played just 28 minutes between January and the tournament.
He had travelled to the Champions League final but not played. When he arrived in Chattanooga, he was still not fully fit. He had been isolated, alone, but he didn’t back down. When he had been introduced against Uruguay it felt a little soon, but still he didn’t. Without his wife Lola, he wouldn’t have got that far. She had supported him which, he conceded, was the wrong way round: she was expecting their first child. “It was incredible to see her, seven or eight months pregnant, helping me get up the stairs,” he said. “It was hard for her but she was so strong.”
Isolated, immobile, alone for long spells, Merino read – Fever Pitch was among the books he turned to – but mostly he worked, determined. He said he learnt a lot too, that it had been “interesting”: he saw that he was stronger than even he imagined. His coach too had faith, convinced of Merino’s significance, hopeful there was a part to play. And what a part, a redemption song sung.
With six minutes left, his moment came. Alert, alive, aware, he wasn’t going to let it get away. A little over three months ago, he could not take a step. Now, Spain took one step closer to the World Cup dream. From the bench they took many steps towards Merino, ever faster, everyone sprinting his way, delirious with happiness. They grabbed him, held him, screamed at him and then they let him go, off round the flag.
“When that happens you remember everything – the good things and the bad things, all the things you have at home,” Merino said. “The injury, not seeing my little one grow: I used that as strength to get the best out of me. This is the product of the hard work my family always inculcated in me. I did my part. For it to happen in the last minute again, I am so happy.” Around his neck he wore the red scarf of San Fermín. “Enjoy it,” he said, “celebrating with your loved ones is the most beautiful thing in life.”
