"Capello's target was Šimunić!"
Boom!Van Stoyak was shaken to his core, his mind going blank.
Throughout the first half, England had relentlessly targeted Šimunić, bombarding him in order to wear down his stamina.
At the time, Van Stoyak thought the English had lost their minds, obsessively challenging their tall center-back in aerial duels.
But now it was clear—this had been Capello's plan all along.
The goal was to force Croatia to sub off Šimunić at the right moment in the second half.
With him gone, Croatia lost a key aerial defender.
England immediately capitalized by using their final substitution.
The "big guy."
A towering striker two meters tall.
For Croatia, this was devastating.
Kovač lacked height.
Križanac was only 181 cm tall.
How could this center-back pairing resist the aerial assault from Rooney, Gerrard, and Crouch?
Capello had made the perfect substitution at the perfect time.
He'd placed the weight of victory on Crouch.
Bang!Whoosh!The sound of physical clashes, the sound of the ball hitting the net.
Van Stoyak turned to look.
The ball was already bouncing inside Croatia's goal.
64th minute—England scored again.
They'd equalized.
Van Stoyak muttered, "Damn it! We were played!"
BOOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Wembley erupted.
Tens of thousands of English fans jumped from their seats, roaring with excitement.
The dire first half had left them anxious, but their tenacious Three Lions had clawed their way back into the match with brilliant performance.
At the very edge of the abyss, Capello had changed the tide with a masterful substitution.
The English fans were ecstatic.
"Crouch!!"
"Header goal! He didn't even jump that high—he just used his height to equalize!"
"Oh my god! Capello's substitution was genius. In a terrible situation, Šimunić's substitution became the signal for England to go on the offensive. Croatia lost a tall center-back, but we still had a tall striker!"
"This game is absolutely incredible!"
The English commentators shouted in joy.
On the pitch, England's players sprinted in wild celebration.
At the cliff's edge, they'd turned the tide—there was nothing more thrilling.
On Croatia's bench, Bilić anxiously watched the field.
"Don't let Crouch keep charging the box! If this continues, we're definitely going to lose!"
"Rooney! Stop Rooney! And Beckham too!"
Bilić turned to see Van Stoyak kneeling on one knee, furiously scribbling in his notebook on his thigh.
His eyes were bloodshot, clearly under immense pressure.
"How do we stop him? How do we stop Crouch?"
"A tall defender? No good—we don't have anyone suitable."
Smack!Van Stoyac slapped his head hard. His brain was running at full speed as he muttered.
Moments later, hesprang to his feet.
His expression twisted slightly.
"If we can't stop him directly, then let's stop him indirectly!"
"What do you mean?" Bilić asked.
Van Stoyac: "We can't stop Crouch—we have no tall defenders left. So let's cut off the supply line. Stop Rooney and Beckham!"
Bilić blinked in surprise. "Are you insane?"
Stopping Crouch seemed like the best plan.
As for Rooney and Beckham…
Beckham was manageable, but Rooney…
That bulldozer was no joke.
"We can! We can totally try!" Van Stoyack muttered as he tugged the few hairs left on his head. "Have Srna and Pranjić switch positions. Also, have Šuker and Rakitić drop back more to help with defense. No more tactics or clever tricks—it's all about pure strength now!"
"Let's crush them!"
Van Stoyack growled through clenched teeth.
At the 64th minute, Croatia made their final substitution.
Kranjčar off, Dujmović on.
As soon as Dujmović entered, he passed on Van Stoyak's tactical instructions to the team.
Srna and Pranjić exchanged glances and began swapping positions.
The Croatian players felt the weight on their shoulders.
After conceding two in a row, they were clearly rattled.
But they also knew—they had to shake it off.
Šuker took a deep breath in, then exhaled slowly.
Now both teams had revealed all their cards.
No more substitutions, no more secret tactics.
It was down to pure power, head-to-head.
Šuker opened his system panel and activated a "Recovery Card."
A refreshing sensation surged through his body.
Since his last injury, Šuker had been cautious with these recovery cards.
But now, he knew it was time.
If not now, when?
At the same time, Srna stared across the field.
His eyes locked on Rooney.
At Inter Milan's training base, he had undergone intense training under Mourinho.
It had been grueling—but fruitful.
With defensive instruction from Mourinho, and mentoring from Zanetti, Maicon, and others, Srna had made significant progress.
Now, it was time to directly face Rooney.
Whether he could neutralize Rooney was critical.
If he could, Šuker wouldn't have to drop back—Croatia's counterattack would flow more smoothly.
Hooo~~~Srna exhaled deeply, then clapped his hands with force."Come at me!"
After conceding, Croatia launched a series of counterattacks.
England played steadily. A draw would be enough for them to advance.
But Rooney wasn't satisfied.
He hadn't had his moment—not a single goal yet.
He wanted more—to make a statement. He kept pressing on the wing.
With Beckham feeding him the ball, Rooney took a few steps and received a pass, controlling it.
Just as he did, a body slammed into him.
Rooney stumbled slightly, tried to push forward and shake free.
But no matter how he accelerated—he couldn't shake the defender.
He looked up and saw Srna's eyes, gleaming like a hungry wolf fixed on the ball at Rooney's feet.
Rooney tried a probing dribble.
Srna didn't move, only adjusted his footing subtly.
Rooney feinted down the line—then suddenly cut inside.
But Srna lunged and poked the ball away with a clean challenge.
"Srna!! Intercepts!!"
Šuker immediately dropped back, recovered the ball, and passed it to Modrić.
"Srna! You beast!" Šuker shouted.
Srna was just as pumped. "Let's go! Destroy England!"
With Srna man-marking Rooney, Croatia launched a new counterattack.
Modrić threaded the ball to Mandžukić.
Mandžukić dropped deeper and played it left.
Šuker surged forward on the wing.
England's defense quickly scrambled back.
Šuker feinted a stepover, trying to probe the defense's balance.
No reaction.
He suddenly stopped, then swung the ball toward the top of the box.
Dujmović arrived at full speed and unleashed a fierce shot.
The ball curled just wide of the post.
"So close!"
Dujmović yelled in frustration.
"Just testing the feel." He quickly explained to Šuker.
Šuker gave him a thumbs-up. "Nice strike!"
Dujmović was caught off guard—almost flustered by the unexpected praise.
"Let's go, boys! Show your spirit—win this match!"
Croatian commentator Kraljević yelled nervously.
The match had him on edge.
The first-half lead had thrilled him—but England's comeback had been gut-wrenching.
Now, Croatia had to stabilize.
But these young players had no intention of playing it safe.
Facing England's counterattacks—they fought fire with fire.
Rooney just took off down the wing, but Srna slid over, bodied him off, and took the ball.
He glanced at the center-back, while Rooney tried cutting inside.
Srna stepped out and turned with the outside of his boot to shake off Rooney.
"Ohhhh~~~ Srna! Again!"
Srna didn't pass—he charged ahead with the ball.
Šuker stood still—refused to move.
This threw Milner off. If Šuker stepped up, Milner could follow.
But Šuker just stood there.
Srna surged forward.
Šuker slowly moved into the half-space.
Srna faked a pass. Milner and Glen Johnson both lunged to intercept.
But Srna cut back toward the byline.
"Srna breaks through!"
At a sharp angle, Srna fired the ball across the goalmouth.
Chaos erupted in the box.
Mandžukić tried to slide in—but Terry shoved him, and he missed.
Rakitić charged in and got a foot on the ball—but Ashley Cole blocked it on the line with his chest.
The ball popped back into the box.
"Clear it!"
Keeper Robert Green shouted.
But Šuker appeared.
He chested the ball down, then poked it to the side of Terry.
Adjusting his feet, Šuker volleyed.
Green dived—he thought he had it.
But the shot deflected off Upson's leg and wrong-footed him.
Goal!
77th minute—Croatia takes the lead again.
"GOAL!!!! Šuker!!!!"
"After England's comeback, Croatia responded with a brilliant attack. Šuker finishes with ice-cold calm to reclaim the lead!"
"England 2:3 Croatia—we're ahead again at Wembley! England is doomed! Against this Croatian side, against Šuker—they have no answer!"
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!
The stadium was filled with deafening boos.
But Šuker's face was beaming.
He ran to the Croatian away fans, pointing to himself, full of confidence.
The Croatian fans were losing their minds with joy.
England's equalizers had crushed their spirits.
But now, hope was reborn with Šuker's goal.
And what a goal it was!
"Wow~~ cough cough"
Anne Hathaway gasped, quickly covering her mouth.
Luckily, the nearby England fans were stunned and didn't notice.
"Incredible!"
Anne clutched her chest with a smile. "I thought we were going to lose."
Amanda sighed, "What a game. But Šuker has been outstanding. I've been watching him the whole time. Even when he doesn't have the ball—you just know he'll score."
"Exactly! Exactly!" Anne chirped like an excited bird. "I felt the same. We were right!"
She turned to look at the pitch.
The once roaring stadium was now dead silent.
The English fans looked drained, defeated.
With two goals, Šuker had slapped those trash-talking fans in the face—in the strongest way possible.
Anne's eyes sparkled.
"Amanda… I think it's time I toughen up too. No more fearing public opinion—I'm going to fight back."
Amanda raised an eyebrow and smiled. "Now that's great news. Coming to this match was the right decision."
"Yes!" Anne nodded. "This game… it gives people strength!"
"Srna, you beast!"
"Captain, you're the man!"
Šuker shouted praises nonstop.
Srna grinned,
Šuker laughed and patted his shoulder.
"If you play like this every match, I'll call you boss."
Srna laughed too.
As they passed England's bench, Srna turned and locked eyes with Capello.
The old coach looked back.
Srna subtly flipped him off.
F you!
Capello squinted slightly.
He was disappointed by the goal—but unfazed by the taunt.
Even in hindsight, he'd make the same call.
Srna had never been his pick at Juventus—he was forced onto the team by the sporting director.
Whether to use him was Capello's call.
Still, he had to admit—Srna had improved fast.
In this match, Srna had shined on both ends.
He disrupted Rooney repeatedly—and in the second half, he'd nearly shut him down single-handedly.
Capello took off his glasses, wiped them, and put them back on.
England trailed 2:3—but the game wasn't over yet.
81st minute: Rakitić and Vukojević double-teamed Beckham.
Rakitić bulldozed Beckham to the ground and won the ball.
No whistle—no foul.
Rakitić immediately sent it into midfield, and Modrić sprinted forward to launch a counterattack.
Šuker and Mandžukić accelerated.
Šuker kept a steady pace, waiting for the moment.
Modrić slipped the ball into the half-space—Šuker burst forward.
In just two steps, he blew past Glen Johnson, powering through the gap.
Johnson pulled him, but lost his own balance.
Šuker surged into the box.
Terry gave chase.
Šuker feinted a shot—Terry stretched his leg.
But Šuker pulled the ball aside, shifted, and shot again.
Terry anticipated—but Šuker outmaneuvered him.
"Upson!"
Terry shouted for help.
But Šuker was faster—he twisted and fired toward the near-post corner.
Swish!
87th minute—Croatia scores again!
England 2:4 Croatia!
The entire Wembley Stadium fell silent—only a handful of Croatian fans were screaming with joy.
"A killer goal! Absolutely the knockout blow!"
"Šuker with a hat-trick!!"
"England's out of chances! We're not giving them even one more!"
"Go, boys—finish them off!"
Kraljević was fired up again.
On the sideline, Van Stoyack roared.
"Go! Keep going! Don't let up—beat them down!"
Damn it!
He had to release this anger—this insult from being outwitted.
But time was running out.
Croatia kept attacking—but the clock was their only obstacle now.
No more goals came.
Final score:
World Cup Qualifier—England 2:4 Croatia at Wembley.
England had beaten Croatia 3:2 in the previous leg.
But with Croatia at full strength now, they came to Wembley and smacked them back!
Aggregate score: Croatia 6:5 England!
Croatia jumped to first in the group.
Same points. Same win-loss record.
But Croatia had more away goals—and that gave them the edge.