"This is Johannesburg, South Africa. Behind me is Ellis Park Stadium. On June 12th, just five days from now, we'll face Bosnia and Herzegovina right here. From the open training session yesterday, the Croatian boys are looking in great shape. Vukojević still seems to be nursing an injury, but fortunately, key players like Šuker, Modrić, Mandžukić, and Rakitić are all healthy. This is their first World Cup journey."
In front of the camera, Kraljević enthusiastically introduced the scene.
As the official commentator for the Croatian team, he had arrived in South Africa ahead of time for promotional duties for the World Cup.
Although the tournament hadn't begun, all of South Africa was already burning with excitement. Everyone was eagerly awaiting the opening match on June 11.
After finishing his first day of interviews, Kraljević finally set down his microphone.
He took off the sunscreen jacket issued by the organizers and fanned himself with the collar.
"It's really hot here!"
Commentating under the scorching sun was tough work, but Kraljević felt happy.
After all, the anticipation before the World Cup was a wonderful feeling.
Most importantly, this time, they weren't just spectators—they were part of the tournament.
"Let's get some iced juice!"
The cameraman, sweating profusely, agreed.
They found a local thatch-roofed bar, unique to South Africa. The Black staff wore football jerseys from various national teams, grass skirts on their lower halves, hustling back and forth.
At the entrance, a big board displayed the group stage schedule for fans and tourists to view.
Perhaps noticing that the two were Croatian, a Black waiter wearing a Croatian jersey brought over two glasses of iced watermelon juice.
"Šuker! Awesome!"
He placed the drinks on the table and flashed a toothy white smile, awkwardly blurting out Šuker's name in English.
For any Croatian, the name Šuker was a source of absolute pride.
Kraljević, delighted, handed the waiter a tip.
The waiter happily repeated praise for Šuker, which made Kraljević even more pleased.
"See? Everyone knows Šuker," Kraljević said proudly.
In the past, Croatia had been basically invisible on the world stage.
Even with legends like Davor Šuker, the country was too small, and Šuker didn't have that kind of superstar fame to carry the national flag globally.
But the current Šuker was different.
Apart from lacking a World Cup title, he had already surpassed his predecessors in nearly every other way.
Today's Šuker was a bonafide global superstar in football.
Thanks to his influence, Croatia had garnered immense international attention.
Now, who dared underestimate Croatia?
They'd get their butts kicked into flower blossoms!
Slurp!
The iced watermelon juice slid down their throats.
That sweet and icy sensation spread from the chest to the stomach, washing away much of the heat.
Phew~
Kraljević let out a long breath and smiled. "I really hope the match starts soon!"
Cameraman: "I can't wait to see how our boys do!"
"Me too!"
Just then, loud cheering began to rise from nearby.
It started faintly but grew louder—a Bosnian fan parade was approaching.
About 300 people, chanting slogans, marched around the stadium.
Five minutes later, an even larger group of Argentine fans paraded by.
But by far, the largest crowd belonged to the Croatian fans.
"Forward! Croatia!"
"We are the Checkered Legion!"
In thunderous chants, a massive group of thousands marched past.
Even scattered Croatian fans nearby threw on their jerseys and joined the growing crowd.
"Croatia! Croatia! Croatia!"
Seeing their fellow countrymen, Kraljević and the cameraman jumped up, shouting excitedly.
Before long, the chant changed—from "Croatia" to "Šuker!"
Šuker!!!!!!!——Šuker!!!!!!!——Šuker!!!!!!!——
Thousands of Croatian fans chanted Šuker's name, and the electric atmosphere even drew in local fans.
"This is amazing!"
Kraljević screamed until his throat burned.
Drenched in sweat, he chugged down his watermelon juice in one gulp.
Just then, a fan group approached wearing shirts with a white taiji (yin-yang) emblem—South Korea's national team.
They weren't few in number but lacked enthusiasm.
Kraljević glanced sideways and muttered, "Pfft."
The Bosnia and Herzegovina national team had arrived in Johannesburg on the 7th.
After checking into their hotel, they immediately began match preparations.
Their first public training session surprisingly drew a lot of media attention.
Bosnia wasn't considered a strong team, nor did they have any superstar players—why the media interest?
"So many people!" said Boame while retrieving a ball. "Are we really that famous?"
"It's probably because we're in the same group as Croatia," sighed Skolk. "Why did we have to draw them?"
Skolk and others wanted to challenge their old teammates Šuker and Modrić.
Just not in the group stage!
Croatia was a top contender for the championship.
And Argentina was in the same group too—talk about a death group!
"Don't worry," said Šuker Bazic confidently. "Just get the ball in the air. I'll handle the goals."
He had built his confidence during the qualifiers.
Now that they'd reached the World Cup, it was his time to shine.
"Don't forget, Croatia has a 190cm tall center back," teased Džeko.
Bazic scoffed: "I'm 2 meters tall. Scared of him?"
Skolk rolled his eyes: "Didn't Šuker always say he was 170cm? He's only 165."
"I'm not like him!" Bazic waved impatiently.
Boame: "True. That guy has two Ballon d'Ors and a FIFA Best Player award."
Bazic: "Whose side are you on?!"
"Yours, of course."
"You better be."
"But…" Boame sighed. "Facing Croatia in our first match—Šuker's probably thrilled."
Džeko, curious, asked: "Is he really that much of a piece of work?"
Most of what he knew about Šuker came from Boame and Skolk.
The media made him look like a saint—what these two said was the opposite.
"Trust me," said Skolk seriously. "He'll blow your mind."
"But we've got some tricks up our sleeves too," he said with a grin.
Boame smiled as well.
"I can't wait to see the look on Šuker's face when we surprise him."
Šuker and Modrić weren't the only ones who had grown.
They had as well—and they had some special moves ready to show off.
As the 2010 World Cup approached, all kinds of news from South Africa flooded the world.
Coverage of the top stars came first:
"Croatia in Intense Prep: Šuker Still On Fire!"
"Argentina's Star-Studded Attack: Maradona and Messi Eye Second Golden Era"
"Kaká Leads Brazil: The Five-Star Samba Team Ready to Dominate"
"Cristiano Ronaldo and Portugal's Golden Generation Arrive!"
"Raúl Benched: Del Bosque Sticks to Old-School Tactics"
"Germany's Youth Revolution!"
Meanwhile, the media buzzed with coverage of the famous "WAGs" (wives and girlfriends).
England's WAG brigade remained the most notorious.
Croatia didn't have as much drama in this area.
Šuker had once dated Gisele Bündchen, which generated gossip—but since their breakup, things had quieted down.
But then, Anne Hathaway posted a photo on her personal account, wearing a Croatian #9 jersey, claiming to be a fan of Šuker.
This led to a media frenzy speculating about a romance between the two.
Neither party responded.
Two days later, the Croatian "Bombshell Squad" appeared.
A group of Croatian supermodels, dressed in short denim shorts and tight jerseys, flaunted their figures.
Many of them openly expressed love for Šuker—but he remained silent.
Surprisingly, Anne Hathaway responded again.
She posted a sexy photo with the caption: "B*tches, go to hell!"
Hard to imagine such blunt words from her—but fans encouraged her to seduce Šuker.
Still, she didn't comment further.
"How the hell did you get involved with her?" Modrić asked, stunned.
First Gisele Bündchen, now Anne Hathaway?
What type of women was Šuker attracting?
"Who cares? Let's just focus on the match," Šuker said, brushing it off.
During the tournament, he ignored off-field distractions completely.
Right now, he needed to be 100% focused on football.
More card drops were more important than any romance.
This was the World Cup—it only came once every four years.
The Euros had already given him incredible returns.
Šuker was excited to see what kind of diamond cards the World Cup might drop.
He was eyeing cards like "Ronaldinho's Ball Control" and "Kaká's Vision."
And he needed to grind for set-piece cards too!
Finally, June 11 arrived.
The South Africa World Cup opening ceremony began, watched by the world.
Themed in four parts: "The Call," "The Blood of Africa," "United Africa," "A United World."
In "The Call," African poets recited ancient hymns, answered by 270 singing women who walked in ribbons symbolizing connections between host cities.
A giant beetle carried the match ball, showing off football skills. African fabrics formed the shape of the five continents.
Footprint patterns moved from Africa to the world.
Artists from other African nations joined in around a symbolic campfire.
A different opening ceremony—but the same passion.
Fans worldwide ended their four-year wait and got ready for pure football joy.
In Croatia, it was 3 PM.
It was a workday, and since Croatia wasn't playing yet, there was no holiday.
Still, people couldn't focus on work.
They crowded around TVs—sometimes led by their bosses.
Croatia had missed the last World Cup.
This was their return after eight years.
They wanted to watch everything.
The opening ceremony lasted an hour before the first match: South Africa vs Mexico.
All the national teams watched the match together to soak in the atmosphere.
This was the World Cup—nothing could match the emotion.
The cameras showed African and Mexican fans in wild outfits.
Trumpets, cheers, whistles, claps—nonstop excitement.
Commentators yelled with passion, and hearts raced everywhere.
Šuker noticed Modrić subtly placing his hand over his chest.
Everyone was blushing with excitement.
If just watching felt like this, what would it be like on the pitch?
"South Africa is attacking hard!"
Dujmović said while munching his lips: "But their finishing is poor."
Mandžukić: "Says the guy who always takes wild shots?"
Before another fight broke out, Srna quickly calmed them down.
Dujmović: "Fine, I'll give Srna face."
Mandžukić shrugged.
Modrić observed: "It's unstable."
Šuker: "It's the opener—of course it's frantic. South Africa is going hard, but if they can't break Mexico's defense, they'll get countered."
Right then, Mexico countered—Dos Santos made a great pass.
Mexican players surged forward.
"Here it comes!"
Šuker's eyes lit up.
Mexico had six defenders in their half; only Torrado handled distribution in midfield.
It was classic defense-first football.
When countering, both fullbacks pushed up to create a six-man attacking unit.
Mexico was fast—but lacked precision.
Striker Franco skied his shot.
"Ohhhhhh—"
"What a trash shot!"
"He wasted that chance!"
"Šuker would've buried it!"
The Croatian players all scoffed.
But it also reminded them of how deadly their own striker was.
If it had been their counter—goal.
The miss gave South Africa a scare.
No goals in the first half—but the tempo was thrilling.
"South Africa's problem is they can't break through Mexico's dense defense. They lack technical players in tight spaces and have no lethal set-piece takers. So they're trying long shots."
"Tactically, Mexico's better. They've held off the attack, waiting to counter later."
"South Africa wants a quick win; Mexico wants to stretch it out."
Van Stoyak provided the tactical analysis.
Everyone nodded in agreement.
"But can Mexico endure this pressure?" Šuker asked.
Van Stoyak turned: "Even if they can't—what choice do they have? Physically, they can't match South Africa's players. They can only counter. It's the limit of their squad."
"They lack transition midfielders and clinical finishers."
He shook his head: "Mexico's in trouble. Against Uruguay and France—how will they play?"
Šuker murmured: "Maybe… France will play even worse?"
And he was right—France crashed out in the group stage.
Post-Zidane, France struggled for years.
Until 2018, when Mbappé emerged.
Van Soyak's judgment was sharp.
In the 55th minute, South Africa scored first.
But in the 89th, Mexico countered again and equalized.
Final score: South Africa 1–1 Mexico.
Game over—Croatian players stood up, their faces serious.
Van Stoyak stood as well.
"The opening match is done. Tomorrow—it's our turn!"
Tomorrow's second match: Croatia vs Bosnia.
Van Stoyak said solemnly: "Let's take that first win!"
Everyone shouted: "Take the first win!"