"This is the third Round of 16 match of the 2010 South Africa World Cup!"
"Croatia faces off against Portugal!"
"Following yesterday's matches, England and Brazil have both advanced to the quarterfinals, and this match will determine whether Croatia or Portugal joins them in the top eight!"
"During the group stages, both Croatia and Portugal delivered spectacular performances, each achieving a dominant victory!"
"However, comparatively speaking, Croatia's three wins make their performance stand out more."
"As for Portugal, Ronaldo finally broke his 16-month international goal drought with a strike against North Korea. Portugal is eager to prove themselves in this match, showing that Ronaldo can perform at the highest level for his country."
"Croatia, meanwhile, boasts one of the most fearsome attacking lines in this World Cup, led by Suker!"
"Younger players like Perisic and Mandzukic have scored as well, while Suker currently leads the World Cup scoring chart with five goals!"
"Suker remains a devastating offensive force. Portugal must contain him; otherwise, victory will be out of reach!"
As the South African commentator's voice rang out, the stadium erupted in thunderous cheers.
Players from both teams emerged from the tunnel.
The camera panned across both lineups and finally settled on a side-by-side shot of Suker and Ronaldo.
"As two of the most talked-about stars in world football, the rivalry between Suker and Ronaldo has long been a topic of discussion. However, it's been 1,084 days since their last encounter, which dates back to the 2006/2007 UEFA Champions League semifinal when Suker was still with AC Milan and Ronaldo was at Manchester United."
"That match ended with AC Milan winning and eventually lifting the Champions League trophy, becoming the first team to defend their title after the competition's format change."
"And now, more than 700 days later, these two stars face off again. What kind of performance will they deliver this time?"
As the commentator's voice rose in excitement, the starting lineups appeared on screen:
Croatia (4-3-3):
(Right to left)
Goalkeeper: Pletikosa
Defenders: Srna, Simunic, Kovac, Corluka
Midfielders: Pranjic, Modric, Rakitic
Forwards: Perisic, Mandzukic, Suker
Portugal (4-3-3):
(Right to left)
Goalkeeper: Eduardo
Defenders: Ricardo Costa, Carvalho, Alves, Coentrao
Midfielders: Tiago, Pepe, Meireles
Forwards: Simao, Almeida, Ronaldo
The cheers from the crowd grew louder, surging across the stadium like waves.
Fans from both sides were screaming in support, eager for the match to begin.
The national anthems played.
Players shook hands.
Ronaldo's face was stern—even when shaking hands with Modric, his expression remained tense.
Clearly, he understood how formidable this Croatian team was.
This was the first World Cup after the full retirement of Portugal's golden generation, with Ronaldo captaining the national team.
The pressure and responsibility weighed heavily on him.
But compared to Croatia—or rather, compared to Suker—Portugal didn't have as much firepower to support Ronaldo.
Croatia had Modric in midfield.
Srna led the defense.
Up front, Mandzukic was a strong backup.
Even if Suker was tightly marked, he could still create opportunities for teammates.
But if Ronaldo was silenced, Portugal would struggle to play.
The statistics showed this clearly: in three group stage matches, Ronaldo had just one goal but provided three assists.
The camera alternated between close-ups of Suker and Ronaldo.
They knew exactly who would draw the attention and the views.
Soon, the captains finished the coin toss.
Srna strutted over confidently and waved toward the left half.
Suker blinked and cheered, "Captain's the man!"
Other Croatian players grinned as well.
In a tense match like this, even the smallest psychological edge could make a difference.
The players took their positions.
Croatia, wearing black away kits, attacked from left to right.
Portugal, in white away kits, attacked from right to left.
Suker bounced on his toes, activating his leg muscles.
On the other side, Ronaldo warmed up in a similar fashion. The two were almost mirroring each other.
They both played on the left wing, so they were positioned on opposite diagonal ends, not on the same side.
A moment later, Suker walked into the box and stepped on the ball.
He studied Portugal's formation.
They were going all-in.
Pepe, who hadn't played earlier in the tournament, was deployed as a defensive midfielder.
Portugal's midfield was relatively weak.
In fact, across the pitch, every position was a bit lacking.
To defeat Croatia, they had to play as a cohesive unit.
The referee raised his hand to signal the goalkeepers.
With the whistle, Suker kicked off the match.
He immediately surged forward, and Pepe moved toward him.
Seeing this, Suker casually dropped back a few steps toward midfield.
Pepe closed in again.
Suker smirked.
Every big match was the same.
Whenever facing a strong team, there was always someone shadowing him.
Argentina did it.
Now Portugal too.
Since rising to stardom, Suker rarely had a moment to breathe on the pitch. But that didn't mean Portugal could stop him.
He had plenty of experience dealing with tight marking.
He started moving fluidly between central and wide areas, dragging Portugal's midfield around.
Occasionally, Modric would pass him the ball, but Suker would immediately release it—giving Pepe no chance to make a challenge.
After a few repetitions, Pepe snapped.
"Just take the damn ball already!"
Suker turned his head. "Why? So you can slide tackle me?"
Pepe looked like he wanted to slide in every time Suker got close.
Suker was sure that if he held the ball even for a second, Pepe would go in hard—either the ball or the man would be left behind.
Pepe was that kind of player.
Suker moved calmly through midfield, unbothered.
Pepe followed relentlessly.
Suddenly, Suker stopped and cut back a few steps, opening a gap.
Rakitic threaded a pass toward him.
Pepe was fed up after being bypassed so many times—he stepped in aggressively to cut off the lane and tried to force Suker wide.
But Suker used the top of his left foot to drag the ball in a spin and faced goal.
Pepe quickly adjusted, confident he could stop him at this range.
But then Suker shifted sideways suddenly, causing Pepe to follow.
Then, with his right foot, Suker burst forward—this wasn't a simple dribble, but a lead touch driven by his hips.
His acceleration was brutal. In two strides, he gained a full body's advantage.
"What kind of freakish speed is that?!"
Pepe was stunned.
Portuguese defenders rushed in.
Suker shifted the ball laterally and advanced again.
Mandzukic dropped back for a one-two.
But it was too obvious—Carvalho read it and intercepted.
"Why did I push it wide?! I should've pulled it back!"
Suker slapped his thigh in frustration. He signaled that he should've used a drag-back pass instead of pushing wide.
That would've frozen Carvalho.
Mandzukic scratched his head and pointed at his feet.
"Your turn!"
Suker rolled his eyes and retreated.
Someone's getting cocky now.
Portugal countered quickly—just two passes and the ball reached Ronaldo.
As soon as he got it, Srna charged in.
Srna, playing as right back, had defended both flanks throughout the tournament. He'd successfully shut down Higuain earlier and came into this match with confidence.
Pranjic tried to come over, but Srna waved him off.
"Cover your own spot! I've got this!"
Pranjic trusted Srna and moved to cut Ronaldo's passing lanes.
Srna's stance was clear—go on, try to beat me.
Provoked, Ronaldo refused to back down.
But now bulkier than before, Ronaldo wasn't as agile. He was leaning more into a pure striker role than a winger.
He poked the ball toward the sideline and attempted a "reverse elastico."
It wasn't particularly deceptive, but his physical strength was overwhelming.
Bang!They collided shoulder to shoulder.
Srna refused to give up the inside lane.
Ronaldo pushed a few more times, then sharply cut outside with his right foot.
This was his trademark move—but as he looked up toward the box, Srna suddenly slid in.
Wham!The ball flew out of bounds.
Ronaldo watched it roll away, then turned toward Srna.
"That guy doesn't hesitate with slide tackles!"
If Srna had fallen for the fake, he would've been beaten.
But his timing was impeccable.
"Fall back! Fall back! Defense!"
Srna shouted while rubbing his shoulder.
Hard as hell!
It felt like crashing into a steel wall.
That slide tackle had been his only option.
But it made something clear to Srna: there was a dangerous determination in Ronaldo's eyes.
He always looked toward goal. Always ready to shoot.
It reminded Srna of Suker.
"I've got to stay sharp!"
Portugal took a quick throw-in.
Ronaldo laid it off to Meireles, who saw the crowding on the right and switched play with a long ball.
On the far side, Simao controlled it with his chest and combined with the retreating Almeida.
Simao crossed.
"Watch out!"
Croatia's goalkeeper Pletikosa shouted.
Simunic roared and leapt.
His height advantage made the difference—he powerfully headed the ball away.
"Counterattack!"
Simunic yelled.
Modric was momentarily delayed by Almeida's pressing, forcing him to turn backward.
By the time he passed, Portugal had already reset.
"Damn, they really fall back fast!"
Modric regretted the lost chance and passed to Pranjic, who sent it to Perisic.
With space to operate, Perisic didn't force a dribble. He wasn't that type of player.
He returned the ball.
Croatia stayed patient and organized.
Meanwhile, Portugal was heating up, gaining rhythm on both sides of the ball.
"That's it! Just stay solid! As long as we stay solid, we'll win!"
Tiago shouted encouragement.
In the first half, Croatia had the upper hand and would inevitably press forward.
If Portugal could hold them off and run down the clock, that was already a win.
In the second half, they'd unleash their own attack.
Bang!
Perisic hit a diagonal switch.
Pepe charged toward the drop point—but Suker got there first.
He shielded the ball from Pepe and controlled it smoothly.
Pepe pushed hard on Suker's back, refusing to let him turn.
Suker laid it off to Modric and sprinted forward.
Modric passed to Mandzukic.
Mandzukic held off Carvalho and swept the ball wide.
Too obvious again.
Three Portuguese players swarmed Suker.
"Damn it!"
Suker cursed.
He stopped abruptly, used his back to shove into Pepe, and maintained balance while trying to feint Ricardo Costa.
But Costa kept backing off, refusing to bite or tackle.
With Carvalho closing in, Suker clenched his teeth and suddenly dragged the ball sideways.
He wound up and unleashed a powerful right-footed shot.
The ball flew between Costa's legs, curving toward the near post—and narrowly missed.
"Oh!!! Suker!!"
Commentator Krausevic was stunned.
Three defenders!
Even surrounded, Suker didn't lose the ball—and he still got a dangerous shot off.
With a little luck, that could've been a goal.
Suker gritted his teeth in regret and ran back to Modric.
"Help me open up a lane to accelerate!"
Portugal was stacking the left side.
Pepe was the first barrier, shrinking space to prevent Suker from using his speed.
Suker had the pace, but no runway.
He needed a channel—just enough room to accelerate.
"I got it!"
Modric nodded.
Back at Milan, Pirlo used to do this for Suker: using passing and movement to open space.
Now Modric would do the same.
"Portugal's defense against Suker is airtight. Pepe, Tiago, and Costa form a three-man buffer zone on the left, smothering his explosiveness. Even if he beats one, another is waiting two steps away, forcing him to decelerate and change direction."
"Coach Fernando Santos clearly did his homework."
The camera showed Santos on the sidelines, rubbing his chin with a furrowed brow.
He had designed a detailed defensive setup for Suker.
But was it working?
Not really.
Suker still broke through.
If Croatia got a clean counter and Portugal didn't fall back in time—Suker would take off.
But he couldn't assign Pepe and Tiago to shadow Suker for 90 minutes.
That would be suicidal.
So in the first half, Portugal's strategy was simple: double-mark Suker. Don't worry about attacking.
As long as they stopped Suker, they stopped Croatia.
Two men shadowing him the whole time—surely that would work.
And dignity?
This is international football!
Losing is the real embarrassment.
Croatia were European champions—a true powerhouse. Portugal was the underdog.
When you're the weaker team facing the stronger one—who cares about playing pretty?
Defend!
Relentlessly shut down Suker!
Hold the line in the first half.
Strike in the second.