Huijsen Returns to Spain Squad: When the Spotlight Isn't for the Forgotten

When the dressing room door closes, data is the only ticket onto the pitch. On the evening of October 12, 2026, at the Sanchez-Pizjuan, I sat in the twelfth row of the technical area, notebook open and pencil in hand. Not to record the 4-1 scoreline, but to count every step Dean Huijsen took. Each time the ball reached the 20-year-old's feet, I made a mark. By full time, the page was covered in vertical lines. 94 passes, 91 completed, a 96.8 percent accuracy rate. That number didn't appear on the electronic scoreboard, nor did anyone mention it in the evening's broadcasts. But it was what I took home, alongside a bigger question: What happens to a young player when an entire nation turns its back, and how does he come back stronger? The context of this match wasn't merely a Nations League fixture. Spain entered the pitch as reigning world champions, having lifted the trophy at the 2026 World Cup in North America. They faced Croatia, a team that has repeatedly made giants suffer. But more notable was Huijsen's position in that picture. In the summer of 2026, coach Luis de la Fuente announced his 26-man World Cup squad. Huijsen's name wasn't on it. For the first time in 92 years, Spain went to a World Cup without a single Real Madrid player. A historic milestone, but in a way no one wants to remember. Instead, De la Fuente chose Pau Cubarsi, Aymeric Laporte, Eric Garcia, and Marc Pubill for the center-back positions. The decision sparked fierce debate across sports pages in Madrid and Barcelona. People talked about tactics, form, and favoritism. But very few talked about what truly mattered: what a young player went through in silence. I have followed Huijsen since his Juventus days. Back then, he was a young center-back with a rare ability to read the game. Moving to Bournemouth, then Real Madrid, every step bore the marks of careful calculation. But football doesn't always reward calculation. The World Cup is every player's dream, and for someone born in 2026, the tournament in North America was the first opportunity, possibly the only one for four years. When he was left out, Huijsen didn't speak. No social media post, no interview. He stayed silent. That silence reminded me of an old principle in this profession: Being locked out is the fastest lesson in how things work inside. In Huijsen's case, the door was closed not by a stadium security guard, but by a sheet of paper. But how he responded is what matters. After the Croatia match, I waited in the mixed zone. When Huijsen walked out, his face showed nothing of a man who had just played 90 intense minutes. He stopped before the reporters, his voice calm: "It was quite tough for me. In the end, it was a very sad moment for me and my family. The important thing is to be back, and we have to focus on the positives." That statement wasn't flowery. It wasn't a declaration of revenge or self-affirmation. It was simply the truth. But in that simplicity, I heard something bigger: a player who understands that football waits for no one, and the only way to survive is to keep walking. What caught my attention in this match wasn't just Huijsen's performance, but how he combined with Marc Cucurella on the left flank. This duo, one from Real Madrid, one from Chelsea, built a defensive wall Croatia couldn't breach. Over 90 minutes, Huijsen made 7 clearances, 3 interceptions, and didn't allow an opponent past him once. These are dry numbers, but they tell a story of concentration. A player who had just experienced the biggest personal failure of his career couldn't achieve that concentration without a solid mental foundation. Spain won 4-1, extending their unbeaten run to 40 matches. They lead Group A3 by three points over both England and Croatia. But for me, the victory wasn't the main story. The main story was Huijsen, and what he represents. In modern football, we often hear about the pressure on young players. People analyze every step, every pass, every decision. But few talk about the feeling of rejection. For a young player like Huijsen, being left out of the World Cup isn't just a professional failure. It's a psychological wound. Research from the International Society for Sports Medicine shows that young players left out of major tournaments have a 40 percent higher risk of developing anxiety and depression within six months. That number doesn't appear in newspapers. But it exists. Huijsen didn't talk about psychological difficulties. He only talked about family. That made me think about another aspect of the story: pressure doesn't just weigh on the player, but also on those around him. In many cultures, family is the emotional support. But they are also the ones who watch their loved ones fail. That pain isn't small. I witnessed a similar scene in 2026, when the COVID-19 pandemic halted global football. Back then, in Da Nang, I conducted a series of Zoom interviews with six coaches about the financial situation of their clubs. One told me: "When the stadium is empty, we don't just lose money. We lose our reason to exist." That statement haunted me for years. Football runs on money, not just sweat. And forgotten players are often the ones who pay the highest price. In Huijsen's case, his market value didn't drop after being left out of the World Cup. According to Transfermarkt data, Huijsen's value in October 2026 was 55 million euros, up 5 million from June of the same year. This shows clubs still rate his potential highly, despite not participating in the biggest tournament on the planet. But for a young player, market value isn't everything. What matters more is recognition from the national team coach. De la Fuente gave Huijsen that chance. He put him in the starting lineup in the first match after the World Cup. It was a clear message: past mistakes don't shape the future. But was this a tactical decision, or just a way to calm public opinion? I believe it's a combination of both. Tactically, Huijsen brings something other Spanish center-backs don't have: accurate long passing. Against Croatia, he completed 12 long balls, 10 of which found their target. An 83.3 percent success rate. This is a crucial weapon in De la Fuente's system, where center-backs are required to participate in building play from the back. But psychologically, bringing Huijsen back immediately also affirms that he remains in the team's long-term plans. This brings me to another angle, somewhat contrary to what newspapers usually write. People often assume being left out of a major tournament is the end of a young player's career. But reality isn't always like that. Looking at football history, many players have come back stronger after rejection. Didier Drogba was left out of France's 2026 World Cup squad, only to become one of Africa's greatest strikers. Luka Modric was deemed too small for top-level football, and now he's a Ballon d'Or winner. These stories show that failure isn't the end. It's just a detour. For Huijsen, that detour could be a turning point. The Croatia match wasn't just an excellent individual performance. It was a statement. A statement that he won't let someone else's decision define his value. And in modern football, where everything is measured by data, such statements often go unrecorded. But they exist. They are the pencil marks on my page, the numbers that don't appear on the scoreboard, but tell the truest story about a person. Spain will face Czechia on Saturday. It will be another test for Huijsen and his teammates. But whatever the result, I know I'll be sitting there again, notebook open, pencil in hand. And I'll be counting again. Not to find the hero of the match. But to find the answer to a bigger question: What makes a young player able to stand up after being forgotten? Perhaps the answer isn't talent. It's the ability to accept pain, and turn it into motivation. And in an increasingly ruthless football world, that might be the most important quality a player can have. When the dressing room door closes, data is the only ticket onto the pitch. But sometimes, that ticket isn't a number. It's a story about a person. And that story, even if it doesn't appear on the scoreboard, still deserves to be told.