Can Chile's National Football Team Return to Its Copa América Glory Days?

The question hanging over Chilean football these days isn't just about tactics or talent; it’s about spirit. Can La Roja ever recapture that magical, combative essence that propelled them to back-to-back Copa América titles in 2015 and 2016? As someone who’s followed South American football for decades, I’ve seen dynasties rise and fall, but the decline of this particular Chilean generation feels uniquely poignant. It’s a story of aging legends, a stalled renewal, and, most importantly, a fading identity. That’s why a recent quote from a veteran player, though not Chilean, struck such a chord with me. He said, “At the end of the day, just coming out and competing, giving it all that I can. That usually takes over anything else. Just playing to compete and playing to win.” That raw, uncompromising ethos was the Chilean team’s brand for nearly a decade. It wasn't always pretty, but it was ferociously effective. The real inquiry for the 2024 Copa América, then, is whether that fire can be reignited or if it was inextricably tied to a group of players whose time has passed.

Let’s be honest, the core of that golden era—Arturo Vidal, Gary Medel, Claudio Bravo, and of course, Alexis Sánchez—are in the twilight of their careers. Vidal, now 36, and Medel, 36, no longer dominate midfields with the same relentless, 90-minute intensity. Bravo, at 41, remains a leader but his physical prime is well behind him. The statistics are stark. Since their 2016 triumph, Chile’s performance in the Copa América has been a steady decline: a semifinal exit in 2019 (losing 3-0 to Peru, a result that still stings), a quarterfinal loss in 2021, and a failure to even qualify for the 2022 World Cup. The team scored only 3 goals in the entire 2021 tournament. The transition to a new generation has been painfully slow and inconsistent. Players like Ben Brereton Díaz, now back to being just Brereton after his switch to England, bring hope, but he’s not yet a consistent focal point. The midfield lacks a true heir to Vidal’s warrior-poet role, and the defense, without Medel’s organized fury, often looks vulnerable.

This is where the philosophy comes in. For me, Chile’s success was never purely about technical superiority. They were rarely the most talented team on the pitch, even during their wins. Their power came from a collective mindset, a garra—that claw—that overwhelmed technically gifted sides like Argentina and Uruguay. They played with a chip on their shoulder, a collective snarl that said they would out-work, out-fight, and out-desire you. That quote about “just coming out and competing… playing to win” encapsulates it perfectly. It’s a simple idea, but incredibly hard to sustain. Under coaches like Jorge Sampaoli and later Juan Antonio Pizzi, this mentality was systemized into a high-pressing, physically demanding style. I worry that this identity has softened. Recent matches have seen a more passive Chile, a team waiting to react rather than imposing its will. You can’t just tell players to have garra; it has to be cultivated, and it requires the right blend of personalities on the pitch. The young players coming in, like Darío Osorio or Víctor Dávila, are technically sound, but do they have that same innate hunger, that underdog mentality that defined their predecessors? I’m not yet convinced.

So, what’s the path back? It’s not about discarding the old guard entirely—their leadership in the dressing room is still invaluable—but about carefully managing their roles while fast-tracking the integration of the new. Coach Ricardo Gareca, newly appointed, faces this exact puzzle. His success with Peru, another team built more on spirit than stellar names, gives me a flicker of optimism. He knows how to forge a tough, unified unit. The key will be finding a tactical approach that protects the aging legs of his veterans while unleashing the energy of the youth. Perhaps a shift to a more compact mid-block, rather than the exhausting high press of old, could be the compromise. But more than tactics, Gareca must rebuild that competitive monster. He has to instill that non-negotiable standard, that every single player, from the 41-year-old goalkeeper to the 20-year-old winger, steps onto the field with that sole purpose: to compete and to win, giving absolutely everything. It sounds like a cliché, but for Chile, it was their scientific formula.

Personally, I’d love to see it happen. International football is richer with a fierce, disruptive Chile in the mix. Their victories were a testament to the power of collective spirit, a beautiful antidote to the narrative that only superstars win trophies. As they head into the 2024 Copa América, the odds are against them. I’d estimate their chances of winning it at maybe 12%, with a semifinal appearance being a more realistic, positive outcome. The glory days of 2015-2016, with that specific, irreplaceable group, are almost certainly gone. But glory doesn’t have to mean repeating history. A new kind of glory—a resilient, gritty return to contention built by a new generation carrying the old torch—is possible. It starts not with fancy tricks, but with that basic, brutal commitment we heard in that quote: coming out, competing, and giving it all. If Gareca can bottle that feeling again, Chile won’t just be participants; they’ll be a problem for everyone, and that alone would be a triumphant return to form.