Last-Gasp Heroics: Costantino’s 90th-Minute Strike Lifts Deportivo Morón Past Atlanta and Reignites Promotion Race
Under the piercing floodlights at Estadio Nuevo Francisco Urbano, with nerves jangling and the season’s ambitions hanging in the balance, Deportivo Morón found their moment—and it arrived at the very last. As the clock tipped into the 90th minute, a volley of tension and opportunity met at the right boot of I. Costantino, whose sharp finish shattered Atlanta’s resistance and sent the home stands into rapturous celebration.
For eighty-nine minutes, the contest was a study in caution and calculation. Both teams, perched precariously near the top of Primera Nacional’s perilous summit, understood the stakes. Morón, fourth in the table, had been dogged by stalemate—three draws in their last four matches had seen them stall just shy of the automatic promotion places. Atlanta, meanwhile, entered second, their season marked by flashes of brilliance and bruising setbacks.
The evening’s narrative could have been penned from the teams’ recent form. Morón had shown defensive tenacity, holding San Martín Tucumán and Colón Santa Fe scoreless in goalless draws, but the lack of cutting edge loomed large. Atlanta arrived with confidence, having brushed aside Chaco For Ever 3-0 just eight days prior, a much-needed balm after a humbling 0-3 home loss to Deportivo Maipú. Their head-to-head history, often cautious, hinted at another tense chapter.
From the opening whistle, Atlanta sought to impose themselves, their midfield orchestrating possession in tight quarters. The visitors crafted half chances—Echeverria Marcos, their talisman and recent goal scorer, nearly found space behind Morón’s back line in the 32nd minute before a rapid defensive recovery shut the door. Morón replied in kind; Costantino and Y. González, whose partnership had provided crucial attacking returns in recent weeks, pressed and probed, seeking a crack in Atlanta’s disciplined shape.
Neither side, though, could find the combination to unlock the other. At times, it was attritional—midfield duels swallowed space, defenders stood tall, and attacks evaporated at the edge of the penalty area. If there was frustration, it simmered quietly, always waiting for one break, one mistake, one act of audacity.
The match’s pulse quickened after halftime, and tension mounted as the minutes slipped away. Morón’s supporters felt the impatience of opportunity; Atlanta’s fans, spread across the away section, pushed their side for resolve. A draw would have given Atlanta breathing room above the chasing pack, while Morón needed victory to avoid being marooned beyond reach of the top slots.
It was in the dying embers that the game found its meaning. A surging run from Morón’s midfield drew defenders out of position, the ball swung wide, and with Atlanta scrambling to recover, Costantino drifted behind the back line. The pass arrived, perfectly weighted—a heartbeat, a pause, then brilliance. Costantino took it in stride and fired across the keeper, who could only watch as the ball rippled the net. The stadium erupted, the home faithful roaring as hope was revived at the death.
For Deportivo Morón, the significance could barely be overstated. Three points push them to 58, leapfrogging Atlanta in both momentum and ambition. Their record—now 15 wins, 13 draws, and just six defeats from 34 matches—places them within striking distance of the summit, and the performance tonight showed a capacity for late, decisive action that may well prove invaluable as the season barrels toward its conclusion.
Atlanta, meanwhile, are left to digest a bitter lesson in football’s cruelty. A single lapse, a solitary moment, and what might have been another point in their ascent is instead a setback. Their season now stands at 14 wins, 13 draws, and 7 losses, their grip on second place suddenly precarious. The promotion chase, once seemingly under control, has transformed into a scramble—with Morón and others lingering close behind.
There were no red cards or major disciplinary incidents to color the proceedings; the match’s narrative belonged solely to its competitive edge and late drama. The teams’ tactical caution spoke to their respect for each other, but it was individual quality and composure that ultimately determined the outcome.
Looking ahead, the implications for both sides are clear. For Morón, this victory may serve as a springboard—evidence that they possess not only the structure to grind out results but the nerve to seize them when the margins shrink. With promotion within reach, every fixture becomes a crucible. For Atlanta, the defeat is a prompt to regroup, to rediscover the attacking fluency that brought them here, and to shore up resolve under pressure.
Primera Nacional’s final weeks promise drama, and tonight’s closing act offered a sharp foretaste: in the balance between ambition and anxiety, it is the capacity for late brilliance that may yet decide who rises and who watches from below. And as Costantino’s name echoes through Morón’s corridors, the race grows tighter, the stakes higher, and the story—so far—still unwritten.