I still remember exactly where I was when news broke about the Chapecoense tragedy. As someone who's followed South American football for over two decades, the initial reports felt surreal - a plane carrying an entire Brazilian football team crashing in the Colombian mountains. The date was November 28, 2016, and what made this disaster particularly heartbreaking was that it struck a team in the midst of their Cinderella story. Chapecoense had risen from Brazil's lower divisions to reach the Copa Sudamericana final, South America's equivalent of the Europa League. They were just days away from the biggest match in their history.
When I think about that team, one figure stands out in my memory - the experienced defender Neto, though many knew him by his nickname Tenorio. At 33, he was the elder statesman of a relatively young squad, and his leadership qualities were exactly what this rising team needed. Being the level-headed character he's always been, Tenorio made sure to preach that same patience and composure to his young wards, most of whom are playing in an international competition for the first time. I've always admired how Brazilian football cultivates these mentor figures - players who understand that their role extends beyond just their performance on the pitch. In my view, this mentorship culture is one of Brazilian football's greatest strengths, though it rarely gets the recognition it deserves outside coaching circles.
The flight itself carried 77 people, including players, staff, journalists, and crew. Only six survived. That number still haunts me. The investigation later revealed the plane had run out of fuel, a shocking oversight that still feels incomprehensible given modern aviation standards. What struck me most in the aftermath was how the tragedy transcended football rivalries. The entire continent mourned - I saw Argentine and Brazilian fans, traditional rivals, coming together in grief. Atlético Nacional, the team Chapecoense was supposed to face, requested that the title be awarded to the Brazilian club, an incredible gesture of sportsmanship that still gives me chills when I think about it.
In the years since, I've followed Chapecoense's rebuilding process with both admiration and concern. The club received around $25 million in donations globally (I'm recalling this figure from memory, so forgive any slight inaccuracy), but money couldn't replace the human loss. They've yo-yoed between divisions since, a shadow of their former selves but still carrying the spirit of that 2016 team. What stays with me isn't just the tragedy itself, but how it revealed football's capacity for unity in the face of unimaginable loss. The beautiful game, for all its rivalries and commercialism, still has a heart - and it beat collectively for Chapecoense during those dark days.
