The closing minutes delivered a mix of pain, wonder, and confusion. Two goals from Burgos, which never actually changed the scoreboard, became the focal point of a chaotic day at Tartiere. Oviedo’s squad dropped to the turf for a breath, unsure whether their league fate had already been sealed. Spectators on the results pages buzzed with live updates, while the stands juggled belief and disbelief in equal measure.
As Oviedo and Ibiza approached the final minutes, the drama intensified. The blue team held control as Jémez’s side pressed, and Tartiere roared in response. A moment was misread as Burgos finding the net against Girona, yet in El Plantío no definitive marker appeared. A sense of miscommunication hung in the air, fraught with misinterpretation and hope that something real might still be possible.
The postgame atmosphere grew even stranger. Players retreated into the tunnel, while fans in the Northern Fund celebrated a promotion dream that relied on a goal that did not exist. Faces in the crowd searched for clarity, some celebrating at will, others peering at phones in quiet disbelief, and a few simply unaware of the exact turn of events. What unfolded felt downright surreal.
A television commentator asked what was happening. In a matter of seconds, the blue side appeared to secure a playoff spot for a North Fund goal that never materialized. A chorus of voices cried out that the goal had been canceled; confusion prevailed. The moment shifted from elation to disappointment in an instant. Bastón and Luismi found tears, while Matheus checked his phone and confirmed that Plantío had not scored.
Oviedo finished seventh after a night of mixed feelings and an ending that felt more awkward than triumphant. Supporters clung to their phones, embracing the new era of mobile information while hoping for a better outcome next season. Fans celebrated Borja Sánchez’s goal against Ibiza, then asked aloud about Burgos’ fate, caught between excitement and anxiety.
In short, the idea of a final-day playoff on a knife-edge of tension was the dream the team chased. Cuco’s squad delivered a performance against Ibiza in front of 21,729 spectators who began the afternoon singing Melendi’s anthem and left with a chant of solidarity for a return to the top flight: Volveremos a Primera.
Early on, attention focused on Tartiere, but after Borja’s goal, all eyes shifted to Burgos. The moment was heavy with tension, as executives, councilors, and businesspeople exchanged handshakes within the box. Then the long-awaited update arrived: Las Palmas had scored, changing the complexion of the day.
Oviedo’s 1-0 victory appeared to complicate things then settled into a calmer rhythm. The first half offered safety with limited risk, but the second half opened with Ibiza drawing level. To reach the playoffs, Oviedo needed two goals—one for themselves and one for Burgos—while nerves hummed in the crowd with beeps and murmurs filling the air.
The stands demanded courage, and the team delivered. Bastón nudged Oviedo back in front, renewing the dream of a Burgos-driven outcome as time dwindled. A new blow arrived when Davo brought the score to 2-2 with twenty minutes remaining. Burgos hovered near a goal against Girona, and with fifteen minutes left, Oviedo still needed to fulfill its part of the plan. Burgos offered little help. Femenías preserved Ibiza’s lead, and Tartiere erupted once more. Seven minutes remained when Femenías again denied a goal, and Cuco urged Borja Sánchez to stay composed. Another Burgos opportunity appeared. Four minutes left and VAR ruled a handball against Oviedo in the box. Bastón converted, making it 3-2 with one minute to go at El Plantío. The result was a frenzy, as Oviedo celebrated two imagined goals before the truth finally settled in a few seconds later.
Hours before kickoff, the city already wore a festive air. A blue shirt signaled something extraordinary was in motion. Two hours before the match, fireworks illuminated the sky as around two thousand fans gathered near Tartiere’s ramp, awaiting the team bus amid blue smoke and celebration sounds. Just before 18:20, the bus departed, and the mania began. Many fans, young and newly witnessing Oviedo’s top-flight hopes, chanted, “Yes, we can.” A 14-year-old, Pablo Feijo, wore a Borja Sánchez shirt as a flag and declared that if this moment didn’t deliver it, the next one would.
The team bus windows were tapped in gratitude before the squad entered the locker room. The outskirts of Tartiere maintained the party until kickoff. Pedro Minero Square remained the heart of Oviedismo, with a veteran fan describing confident playoff prospects between selfies and smiles. Optimism coexisted with the sting of recent disappointment against Las Palmas.
The club’s mood mirrored the city’s chatter. “We will win, and Burgos will help us,” said Federico González, an advisor to Carso, as fans pressed for the future sporting director. “I have no idea,” replied one, while Manuel Paredes added with a nod: “You have to trust.” A chorus of Oviedismo echoed that trust, and the club prepared for the road ahead with renewed resolve.