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Croatia must be in the adoption as the l & # 39; Team of a turbulent and turbulent world as they prepare to meet the clbady plutocrats of France in Moscow tomorrow afternoon. No matter what takers? They certainly have one here.
Perhaps it is true that the idea of sport as a mirror of real life has taken a good old days in recent weeks of the World Cup
But there is no reason for it. There is not a powerful theme of supreme commitment in the history of Luka Modric, Ivan Perisic and Mario Mandzukic and their teammates, we could just as well win the trophy in Qatar in four years and dump it into a corner of sacred desert.
The truth is that while England was leaving with an increased reputation As improved competitors, perhaps even partially reformed, Croatia has simply refused to leave a battlefield that they have if generously covered with their sweat and willpower
they stand against virtuosos like Kylian Mbappe, Paul Pogba and Antoine Griezmann. One can be sure that it will only be at that moment, when the game will be over, when there will be more powder, more blood and courage, and sometimes superlative skill.
Against England there was almost the feeling that Modric, the general at Kidd Boots the size of a man, had given instructions that in case of defeat, they were digging a hole and bury it where it fell. As the game progressed, the need for a cat was gradually extinguished.
Modric has already spoken of his youth in his homeland, the execution of a beloved grandfather, for whom he was appointed, and other villagers. every day could be your last and every casual observer of the history of the Balkans – and the international courts of justice – can guess that few places on earth have ever so visited the horror and suffering of its inhabitants
Humanity [19659005] The disappointed players and supporters of England have lost the ambition to "bring home" football but – it is worth thinking – that Would a victorious Croatia have in its luggage at the airport in Zagreb? A striking badge, for a society formerly deeply displaced, of a humanity that works, if it is sometimes fierce.
Croatia, with a population almost one million less than Ireland, would have played the most popular and richest game in the world. There was, of course, a wonder much earlier in 1998, eight years after England's last appearance in a World Cup semifinal and much less a decade since most Croatians could not walk in their street without fear Croatia reached the semi-finals of its first World Cup and led the eventual champions and hosts of France before being beaten by two unlikely goals defender Lilian Thuram.
They beat Germany in the quarterfinals and beat Holland's Dennis Bergkamp, Clarence Seedorf and Edgar Davids in the game for third place.
Davor Suker won the golden boot that Croatia has not only announced that they existed as a nation but had the nerve and the determ To prove it on one of the most spectacular scenes in the world .
Paris, of course, celebrated her days. The Champs-Elysees was a vast ocean of blue but you could still find knots of square shirts red and white Croats.
Such memories have been rekindled with force in recent weeks and this has been particularly the case if you have just been in Croatia when the war was still going on. This was not a self-conceived presence, it must be said
. I was woken up in my hotel room in Poland, where I was covering England qualification for the 1992 European Championships. It was the editor and he was asked if I could stop in Croatia on the way back.
"What's going on here?" I asked him cheerfully. "Well now," he said, "they are bombing Dubrovnik."
I stayed in Zagreb long enough to satisfy the London office before the late arrival of their reporter-in-chief. It was not so long. I did not know the war, but I felt its rush and its dehumanizing horror.
I was taken to an interview with the right Ustasha organization leader and I noted, as you know, that the young woman In her Zagreb Arts Club office, a yellow flower was pinned on her blouse – next to a hand grenade.
There were sandbags around the hotel, next to the presidential palace bombed a few nights ago. I traveled by road from Austria to the flight ban area of Zagreb.
In the hotel bar, mercenaries occasionally opened a window and fired shots of their automatic weapons.
to bring me to see a mbadacre that would occur in a village the following night.
There were families decimated in all the other streets. It was a world that you did not need too long to discover, locked in fear and uncertainty.
One morning, I saw children playing football on the street and it seemed strange.
They were adroit and enthusiastic.
The driver who eventually brought me back to the Austrian border, perhaps not unreasonably maybe, asked me for the danger money because of the dangerous areas where there was roadblocks and the usual draw
pale memories, no doubt, when they are put in opposition with the childhood of a Luka Modric but for what. they are worth they have come back as vigorously in recent weeks as they did when Croatia is so close to what would have been a miraculous appearance in the World Cup final at the Paris stadium
. to be because one of those kids who were playing in the street might have been Luka Modric. He was six years old at the time and he had a life to lead and, who knew, maybe a world to conquer.
If it were to happen tomorrow in Moscow, it is difficult to imagine a climax more resonant moving story.
Irish Independent
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