BOOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The deafening screams of the Croatian fans spread like an earthquake across the stadium.
It felt like all of Johannesburg was trembling.
This was the passionate outburst of tens of thousands of Croatian fans—A cheer for their hero!
Suker had scored the decisive penalty.
Croatia had defeated the mighty German team 4–3 in the penalty shootout.
For the first time in 12 years, since the 1998 World Cup in France, they had returned to this grand stage.
"GOAL!!! GOAL!!! SUKER!!! SUKER!!!"
"SUKER! SUKER! SUKER! SUKER! SUKER!"
Krausevic roared in excitement. His eyes were bloodshot, his cheeks trembling, and veins bulged on his tightly clenched fists.
He couldn't put his feelings into words.
It had been a grueling match—A legendary comeback.
Despite trailing multiple times, Croatia pulled themselves back each time with relentless spirit and finally secured victory.
Nothing could be better than this!
"Suker! Remember that name! Remember him—the great Suker! He's a Croatian hero!"
"We can always believe in him! Always believe in Suker!"
"He always steps up when it matters most!"
"My God! It's the World Cup semi-finals!"
"Final four!"
"After the storm, the rainbow finally shines on Croatia!"
"This moment ties together the night sky of Paris in 1998 with Johannesburg's sky in 2010 across twelve years!"
"And the bridge that connects them—is called Croatia!"
"Let's give a round of applause to our warriors, our heroes—they deserve all of this!"
On the field, Suker sprinted toward his teammates.He didn't run toward the stands but immediately looked for his teammates.
"We won!! We won!! We won!!"
Suker dropped to his knees and roared at the top of his lungs.
Everyone crowded around him, hugging him tightly.
Choked up, they couldn't even form words.
Soon, the substitutes rushed over and piled onto the group, crying freely.
These were tears of joy.
This match had been brutally difficult—Exhausting to the core.
But it was precisely because of that, this victory felt so precious.
"Fking awesome!!"
"Suker is fking awesome!"
Duimović hugged Suker tightly, his head down, crying as he shouted.
The World Cup semi-finals—Croatia is here!We're here!
For a small country of only four million people, this was such a monumental feat.
But they did it!
They inherited the will and spirit of their predecessors, and following in the footsteps of Suker and others, they once again reached the World Cup semi-finals.
Awooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!
A wild cheer rang out.
A figure with a big belly in a gray suit came rushing excitedly toward Suker.
The camera zoomed in—it was none other than Davor Suker.
At that moment, he had none of the hero's poise. He was crying like a child, hugging Suker tightly.
"Final four! Final four! The semi-finals! You did it!"
He knelt and hugged Suker with all his strength.
Everything he had done was now worth it.
His efforts had been rewarded in the best possible way.
These young men, with one amazing match, had brought Croatia back to the World Cup semi-finals.
"We won! We really won~~~"
Tears still streamed down Davor Suker's face.
Suker wiped his own teary eyes and shouted:"Quit crying! All of you, acting like such sissies! F**k that! Smile! Laugh! We're the winners!"
Suker raised his arm and shouted:"Victory belongs to Croatia!"
"Victory belongs to Croatia!!!"
Everyone joined in, shouting in unison.
Davor Suker forced a smile, one uglier than when he cried.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The entire land of Croatia was rumbling.
Countless people cried tears—But not from pain or war this time.
Fireworks lit up the night sky of Croatia.
Tears of joy filled the eyes of four million people.
This country, once ravaged by war and hardship, was now the center of global attention, basking in its most glorious moment.
This small Eastern European nation once again made its voice heard to the world.
Countless citizens poured into the streets.They ran like madmen, cheering.
Champagne sprayed into the air!Fireworks exploded overhead!Cheers, joyful sobbing, applause, and shouts became the anthem of the night.
The moment Suker scored that crucial goal—The moment Croatia made it back to the World Cup semi-finals—The skies over Croatia lit up.
On the pitch, Bilic knelt on the ground.
His mouth hung open in disbelief.
He had once lived through that golden era—And now, it was happening again.
1998's Croatia. 2010's Croatia. Both had reached the World Cup semi-finals.
But—"This isn't how it should be! It shouldn't end like this!"
Bilic mumbled to himself.
He watched Van Stoyac and the players celebrating.He watched the elated fans.He saw everyone acting like the mission was complete.
No! It's different! These young Croatian men were not us.
They shouldn't stop here!
Bilic slowly stood up and silently walked toward the player tunnel.
No one noticed his quiet departure.
When he entered the tunnel and the shadows swallowed him—Bilic murmured:"Change! There must be change! They are not us, and past mistakes must not be repeated!"
Back on the pitch, Suker was giving a post-match interview.
The reporter, a young Croatian man, trembled as he held the mic, voice shaking:
"Con-congratulationsyougaspon the winwhat do you thinkgaspabout this match~~"
The reporter was so emotional he was on the verge of tears.
Suker smiled and motioned him to slow down:"Easy now, take your time!"
The surrounding reporters didn't rush—they understood how emotional this moment was for any Croatian.
Still, the young reporter couldn't hold back his feelings.
"C-can I... hug you?"
He looked at Suker and asked.
Suker froze for a moment, then opened his arms with a smile.
The reporter immediately hugged him tightly.
His sobs were captured on live camera—But instead of awkwardness, applause erupted.
Clap clap clap clap!!
In the applause, the reporter kept repeating:"Thank you! Thank you, Suker!"
"Thank you for your goal! For everything you've done!"
"Thank you! Thank you!"
Suker gently patted his back, and after a while, the reporter calmed down.
He wiped away his tears, embarrassed:"Sorry, I got a bit carried away."
Suker smiled:"No worries. That's exactly what I hoped for. Did I play well?"
The young reporter gave him a thumbs-up—no words, just pure admiration.
At the same time, other Croatian players were being interviewed.
Meanwhile, the German players quietly walked off the field.
"Let's go... our World Cup is over," Lahm said with a heavy expression.
He had missed his penalty—As captain, that failure left him ashamed.
But he still had to console his teammates.
Schweinsteiger hugged Lahm gently, trying to comfort him.
The German team exited the stage quietly.
This was no longer their World Cup, no longer their summer.
Croatia defeated Germany to reach the semi-finals of the 2010 World Cup in South Africa.
In the Croatian locker room, celebrations erupted.
Champagne sprayed in all directions!Players shouted and laughed.
Davor Suker and Boban joined the fun, celebrating the victory.
"Tommy! That panenka was insane!" Mandzukic gave a thumbs-up.
Duimović boasted, "Of course! No one expected me to try a panenka!"
Mandzukic laughed, "If Suker had done a panenka too, the place would've exploded!"
Suker rolled his eyes.Only an idiot would attempt a panenka in sudden death.
If it went in, fine.If it didn't—you'd be nailed to the wall of shame!
"Where's Bilic? I don't see him," Davor Suker asked.
Van Stoyac replied, "He did the post-match press conference and went back to the hotel. Probably too tired."
"Didn't even join the celebration? What kind of head coach is that?" Davor muttered.
Boban laughed, "Better than you!"
Everyone laughed and resumed dancing and partying.
After a while, things settled down and they began packing up to return to the hotel.
Though they'd made the semi-finals, the World Cup wasn't over yet.
A stronger opponent awaited—Spain, the Matadors!
"Everyone go take a shower and relax. No review meeting tonight—rest today, back to training tomorrow!"
Van Stoyac gave the dismissal order and returned to his room.
When he entered, he was surprised to find Bilic already sitting there.
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
Bilic looked up at him."We need to talk."
"Talk about what?" Van Stoyac smiled. "Review the match? There's plenty we could fix."
Bilic shook his head."No. Let's go to the meeting room—someone's waiting for us."
"Huh?" Van Stoyac was confused.What was so urgent it required a meeting room?And why didn't Bilic seem... happy?
They soon arrived—Davor Suker and Boban were also there.
"What's going on? Why call us here suddenly?" Davor asked.
Boban joked, "Trying to show off to us?"
Bilic shook his head and pointed to the chairs."Let's sit and talk."
Everyone sat down.Bilic's expression was grim, causing the others to glance at each other in confusion.
What's going on?
Bilic took a deep breath and said,"First, Van Stoyac—how do you assess our odds against Spain in the next match?"
"Odds?" Vastic was surprised. "Why the sudden question?"
"Just tell me honestly."
Van Stoyac hesitated, then said,"We can still fight. Odds aren't everything—"
"Just give me a number. Without Srna and Kovac pressing up high, can our defense handle Spain's passing?"
Van Stoyac fell silent.
At this point, Davor Suker tried to ease the tension."Hey, lighten up. We just won!"
Bilic turned to him seriously:"Do you know what angers me most?"
"Anger? Why?" Suker was puzzled.
BANG!
Bilic slammed the table and stood up, yelling:"Because of your attitude! Like the job's done—top four! Is that it? Does Croatia's World Cup end here?"
"Have you forgotten how much we regretted it back then? The sleepless nights? The pain of that match playing in our heads again and again?"
He clutched his chest, face twisted with emotion: "Regret! Frustration! Pain! That suffocating feeling—do you want them to go through it again?!"
Davor and Boban fell silent.
"Look at this damned schedule. FIFA is treating us like products for sale. And we can't do a thing. Those bastards are mocking us while our boys are shedding blood and sweat!"
"Draws? Random brackets? Bulls**t! Do you think this sudden rule change is fair? We're just getting used and humiliated!"
BANG BANG BANG!
Bilic pounded the table.
"In '98, we reached the semis because that's all we could do. We lacked the strength to go further.
But these kids—They're different!"
"They've beaten Argentina, Portugal, Germany—They're in the semis. I'm not asking for FIFA's favor, but at least don't sabotage us!"
Davor and Boban clenched their fists.
"If you remember how bitter our regrets were, then tell me—will you help them?
Their journey shouldn't end here. Even if they lose this year, it's their first World Cup. There's still 2014, and 2018!"
Bilic roared:"Can't Croatia lift the World Cup?!There's hope—real hope!"
Davor and Boban began breathing heavily.
After a moment of silence, they asked:"What do you want to do?"
Whew...Bilic exhaled slowly, calming himself.
He sat down again, straightened his clothes, and said:"First, I will resign as head coach of Croatia."
"What?"
All three were stunned.
"No need for that!" Suker exclaimed.
Bilic shook his head."No—it's necessary. This has been tormenting me. I wanted to be a great coach, but I won't be a thief of honor."
"If we beat Spain, I'll resign.If we lose, I'll step down anyway and reveal everything that happened during the Euros."
He looked at Van Stoyac."I'll return your honor—and I hope you'll bring more glory to Croatia."
Van Stoyac looked dazed.This was far beyond what he had expected.
Davor Suker frowned, "This isn't worth it—you'll be ruined."
"If the public finds out what happened at the Euros, You will face a massive backlash."
"It's fine. I've made up my mind." Bilic said resolutely.
Davor Suker and Boban realized there was no changing his mind.
"Secondly..."Bilic continued quickly,"I need your help. No—Suker and the players need your help!
They'll play their hearts out on the pitch—But someone must fight for them off it."
Boban understood instantly."You want Davor to move into FIFA?"
"Yes! Davor is aiming for the Croatian FA presidency. With his connections and support from Suker, Modric, etc., he can reach UEFA—then use that to leap into FIFA!"
Bilic looked at Davor:"Davor—FIFA needs Croatia's voice!"
"I... I'll do my best," Davor said with a sigh.
"Also—Besic!"
Everyone was surprised.
Besic was Dinamo Zagreb's head coach and mentor to Suker, Modric, and others.
"I've asked myself: what are we missing?" Bilic said.
"Finally, I understood—we rely too much on foreign systems. I'm not saying Van Stoyac's Dutch tactics are bad—but we also need a homegrown tactical identity.
Something Croatian to the core!"
Bilic stood and bowed toward Van Stoyac.
"I'm sorry—I still can't recommend you as head coach.
I believe the best person for the job is Besic."
"Someone who can control the locker room, Who understands Croatian football inside and out, And can integrate your tactical thinking into a Croatian style!"