​Remembering Escobar for a Reason After Three Decades

Andres Escobar’s ghost still seems to be casting a poignant shadow over Colombian football. Otherwise, why should a footballer fear for his life, for a sporting failure, even after 32 years since Escobar’s martyrdom in Colombia? I should, however, confess that this is not to suggest the country hasn’t changed, or its internal dynamics associated with football remain the same – for I am not an expert on Colombian affairs.

But the news reports say that Colombian footballer Jaminton Campaz has gone into hiding due to death threats, after Colombia’s exit from the FIFA World Cup 2026 in the Round of 16. His crime: missing a critical scoring opportunity in the extra time of the match against Switzerland, and leading to elimination in an otherwise scoreless 0-0 match. Colombia lost the penalty shoot-out 4-3; remember, Campaz did convert his shot.

A few days after the exit, Campaz received death threats from anonymous sources, and the nature of the threats was serious. The Colombian Football Federation condemned it, saying “no athlete, nor any member of their inner circle, should be subjected to intimidation for representing their country in a sporting arena”. 

On Instagram, sharing his photo where his face was buried in his arms, Campaz himself pleaded: “Football is also made up of difficult moments… My Colombia, please let us never lose sight of respect. We may think differently or feel frustration and sadness, but no passion justifies hatred or living in fear.”

You are immediately reminded of the most tragic hero of entire football history: Andrés Escobar. It was a similar July; it was the same US pitch. Escobar was a national hero, one of the most reputed players, who was nicknamed “the gentleman” for his composure, calmness and sportsman spirit. However, with a fatal mistake, he turned out to be nothing less than a martyr of football’s neck-deep indulgence with dirty money. When he was killed after ten days of his own goal in the match against the USA in 1994 and the subsequent elimination of his country from the World Cup, it spoke volumes about how football was formidably played with, far beyond the stadiums. Of unhealthy betting culture, patronage of drug lords over professional football, a nation’s desperate attempt to build its global identity through football, American interest in controlling the internal dynamics of Latin American countries in the name of waging wars against drugs, and a lot more.

The 2010 ESPN documentary The Two Escobars meticulously traced the trajectories that led to Escobar’s tragic death. And how his life was intertwined with another infamous fellow Escobar from the same city, same land and country: the drug lord and football patron Pablo Escobar. On the one hand, his intimate networking with the Colombian national team and its famous players and his generous philanthropic work among the poor and needy made Pablo an instant hero. On the other hand, his ruthless cocaine wars and narcoterrorism turned him into a nightmarish villain.

When the Colombian establishment, along with the active support of the USA’s global war on drugs, waged its brutal war on Pablo Escobar’s empire, the whole dynamic changed. The drug baron’s empire collapsed, and he was eliminated from the ground. We all know that certain red cards change the whole flow of the game. The documentary tells the story of Pablo’s growth and decline in captivating detail, juxtaposed with Andres Escobar’s dramatic life developments, often shedding light on the layers of Colombian politics and society. ESPN’s exclusive access to the country’s top statesmen and investigative officers, along with the massive collection of archival footage, makes the movie highly watchable and evocative.

The Two Escobars is regarded as one of the most definitive documentaries on football’s complex relationship with politics, drugs,​ organised crime and the quest for national identity. At the same time, it also tells the tender story of loss – Escobar was just 27 when he was killed. We learn how lovable a human Escobar was to his close relatives and friends. A man of humility, focus and great sportsmanship. The visuals after Escobar’s unfortunate own goal are inescapably striking – his nonchalant gestures after the fatal error and the calm body language while he walks away from the goal posts almost foretell the fate that awaited him. In that absolute loneliness, he resembles ​a mythological scapegoat who had to carry the unbearable burden of a nation’s hopes and selective memory that highlights failures and downplays sacrifices.

On the dreadful night of July 2, 1994, when a drunk Humberto Castro Muñoz shot Escobar six times after an argument in a parking lot in Medellín, Muñoz yelled “goal!” after each of his bullets. He was a bodyguard for the notorious Gallón brothers, the drug traffickers who had apparently lost huge amounts of money betting on the match.

Times have changed after three decades. Even football and politics have changed. But still, another Colombian national player has to run hiding for a lesser mistake. For many players worldwide, harassment is now more online than offline. Algorithms could do a deadlier job than bullets. But in this heinous battle of hatred and dirty money, what fails is not just football, but our humanity, too.

Read more – More Than a Match: France, Morocco and the Weight of History

Also see – The Art of the Possible: Football as Political Space

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