The situation was extremely unfavorable for Netherlands; conceding a goal wasn't the biggest issue, but rather their tactical plan had gone very wrong.
They had intended to use offensive pressure in the first half to force Croatia's defense to retreat, but unexpectedly, Croatia took the initiative and quickly scored.
Everything now was contrary to Netherlands' pre-match arrangements, requiring them to quickly resolve the problem and find their rhythm.
However, their current predicament made it very difficult to regain their rhythm.
On one hand, Netherlands itself wasn't particularly good at this.
On the other hand, Croatia was very strict in controlling the rhythm; they wouldn't just watch them wrest the rhythm back.
Sneijder wiped his mouth, his expression extremely solemn.
"Shit!"
He couldn't help but curse under his breath.
Yes, it was shit!
The game had just begun, and the rhythm had turned into a mess; everything was in disarray.
Of course, this was effective for Croatia; it could only be said that in the opening phase, Croatia handled it better than them.
Complaining was useless, so Sneijder was also considering how to regain the rhythm.
But the more he thought, the more his head hurt.
In front of many people, he could say he was the best, but facing Croatia, facing Suker, Modrić, and a bunch of other good players, he truly didn't dare to boast about that.
Moreover, besides these players, the threat from other Croatian players was also significant.
Sneijder was glaring at Croatia's side, and Suker and others had finished their celebration and returned to their own half.
"Taking an early lead is very good news for us!"
"And we've maintained excellent control over the rhythm; I believe these lads can lead us to break through the shackles and challenge new records, even reach the pinnacle!"
Krauchivich's face was flushed.
He saw it!
That's right! He saw it!
Although it was just a glimmer of opportunity, just one goal, he truly felt the hope of victory.
Twice they had fallen in the World Cup semifinals, becoming the backdrop for France and the stepping stone for Spain.
But in their repeated unyielding struggles, an opportunity to shine would eventually arrive.
Krauchivich believed that in this World Cup, this group of Croatian players would not disappoint them.
Just like this goal, they would win the match cleanly, secure the victory!
"Don't give them any chances!" Krauchivich clenched his fist and shouted, "Come on!"
On the field, the Croatian players returned to their own half.
They were excited during the celebration, but now they forced themselves to calm down; it wasn't time to celebrate victory yet, the game had just begun.
"Stay focused!"
Suker turned his head and clenched his fist, saying, "Netherlands will definitely attack more fiercely next!"
Suker believed that with Netherlands' tactics now bankrupt, they were most likely to launch a reactive offensive.
In a disadvantageous situation, they would try to disrupt the rhythm with frantic attacks as much as possible, thereby creating a glimmer of hope for themselves.
This was also a common tactic adopted by many teams when at a disadvantage.
After all, if the current rhythm continued, Netherlands would find no way to break the deadlock; they could only attack like mad dogs.
Of course, both Croatia and Suker hoped that Netherlands would be a bit more disciplined and make some wrong judgments.
However, when the game restarted, Netherlands' offensive told him that they intended to disrupt the situation.
Bang!
Robben forced his way through the wing, and when facing the pressing of two players, he barely managed to get past them; before he had even stabilized his body, he intended to pass the ball.
Their current idea was to get the ball in front of the Goalkeeper as much as possible.
"Don't think about passing!"
Pranjic flew in, sliding to clear the ball out of bounds.
"Damn it!"
Robben couldn't help but curse.
This guy was like a persistent plaster; it wasn't that his defense was incredibly strong, but he just couldn't be shaken off. No matter how many times he was dribbled past, this guy could always catch up and ruin his good chances.
"He's so damn hard to defend!"
Pranjic got up, unable to resist complaining.
Of course, this was more a way for him to relieve pressure.
Robben was certainly difficult to defend; the whole world knew that.
Therefore, Pranjic's approach was never to mark Robben one-on-one; he couldn't do that. He was simply a buffer, waiting for teammates to arrive and form a coordinated defensive pattern.
After Pranjic shouted, he saw Robben taking advantage of the corner kick to run over, trying to gain rhythm.
He immediately rushed over!
He was complaining, but his body was never slow!
Sneijder saw Robben draw out a defender and decisively sent the ball into Croatia's penalty area.
He was aiming for Van Persie, but Van Persie was also being marked tightly.
Vida was desperately jostling Van Persie, both fighting for the landing spot.
Just then, a figure swept past them, and a pair of hands firmly caught the ball in the air, then fell forward with it.
"Beautiful! Subašić good catch!"
Goalkeeper Subašić proactively charged out and plucked the ball from the air.
But after catching the ball, he didn't rush to throw it forward; instead, he lay down on the ground and waited for a moment.
Only when the surrounding Netherlands players had mostly moved away did he slowly get up from the ground.
Of course, there was also an element of time-wasting here.
After all, it was Netherlands who needed to rush now, not them.
Subašić bounced the ball twice more before slowly passing it to the wing.
And Srna was not in a hurry either, continuing to pass back to the Goalkeeper, creating distance.
As for Netherlands, they sprinted forward, wanting to snatch the ball with a more aggressive approach.
Bang!
The ball was passed to Vida. Just as Vida was about to receive the ball, he saw Van Persie rushing towards him from not far away. Startled, he immediately booted the ball forward.
Tsk!
In the coaching box, Bešić showed a hint of dissatisfaction.
That long ball was really unnecessary; if he had paused for a moment, Modrić would have been in position.
Of course, one couldn't say that this handling was bad, as a defender, being the last line of defense before the Goalkeeper, it's a good choice to try not to hold the ball, but sometimes there are better ways to handle it.
This is also why modern football increasingly demands center-backs to be good at playing out from the back.
But clearly, Vida was not that type!
Compared to Šimunić, Vida was very strong defensively, but somewhat lacking offensively.
"We can't ask for too much! After all, good center-backs are rare, and Vida is already quite good."
Van Stoyak comforted him.
Compared to Croatia's other positions, the defensive line indeed seemed a bit weak, with only Srna holding the fort.
But Van Stoyak believed this wasn't necessarily a bad thing.
Defense required discipline and unified command.
Players with both skill and reputation were, of course, excellent choices.
But if the entire defensive line consisted of such players, then there would be problems with command; everyone would be a big name, so who would listen to whom?
Everyone had their own judgment, so Van Stoyak actually believed that defense should not rely on so-called big-name stars.
Even if there were some, there needed to be an even bigger name to suppress the others.
Only then could the defense be stable and achieve unity.
The ball in the front field was contested in a series of headers, eventually controlled by Suker at his feet.
Suker's judgment of the second ball was very precise, and he also successfully picked out the ball using his excellent footwork.
"Beautiful!"
Krauchivich shouted again.
Compared to analyzing the game, he was now basically fully invested, no different from the fans.
However, he also needed to intersperse some of his professional knowledge into the commentary.
"In successive attacks, we still achieved very good results on the left wing; Suker's presence is a very difficult problem for Netherlands to deal with!"
"Since that's the case, we can completely use the left-wing attack to continuously put pressure on Netherlands until their defense collapses!"
Of course, it's easy to say, but not at all simple to do.
The important thing was to seize that opportunity!
"Go up! Luka, go up and fill the position!"
In the VIP box, Davor Šuker yelled excitedly.
"Go up my ass! If he goes up, the back will be open!" Boban retorted.
"If he doesn't go up, the attack won't get started here!" Davor Šuker turned his head and said.
"The attack doesn't rely on Luka to break through." Boban said, then pursed his lips; "Rakitić should also be playing some role, right!"
On the field, Rakitić was constantly running, trying to shake off the defender beside him.
He knew very well that he only needed to shake off this guy, then pause for a moment, and he could create an attacking opportunity for Suker.
"Faster!"
"Even faster!"
Rakitić kept urging himself on while making shuttle runs.
He watched the changing situation on the field, his mind racing with thoughts.
Suddenly, Rakitić twisted his body and ran directly towards the center.
Suker was already in that position, and if Rakitić ran over, it would create an overlapping problem in their positioning.
Suker also noticed this scene and was momentarily stunned.
But very quickly, a thought flashed in his mind.
Rakitić must have his reasons for running like this.
And Suker also proactively started moving to the wing, exiting the central area.
This sudden change surprised Netherlands.
In the past, it was always Suker crowding his teammates' positions, so why was Rakitić now crowding Suker's position?
But they didn't have much time to think and immediately turned back to rush towards Suker, continuing their tight marking.
And Rakitić also saw this scene.
"Pass!"
Rakitić shouted, and Modrić actually threaded the ball forward.
After receiving the ball, Rakitić feigned a turn to the left, then suddenly pushed the ball horizontally and turned to the right.
After shifting the Netherlands defenders' center of gravity, he instantly broke free.
"Right side! Be careful!"
Sneijder quickly shouted.
The direction Rakitić turned was the direction of the attack.
Netherlands' defense also quickly shifted from the left side towards the right.
And just at this moment, Rakitić suddenly performed a rhythmic dribble with his foot.
He gently poked the ball with his left foot, just managing to thread it through the Netherlands defender's legs, while simultaneously jumping slightly with both feet, completing another escape.
One turning dribble immediately changed Rakitić's attacking momentum, which was originally directed to the right, to the left.
At this, Netherlands instantly panicked.
"He changed the play!"
But even more critical was the left wing.
Verhaegh was sprinting at full speed, but he still couldn't catch up to Suker in front of him.
"Oh no!"
Sneijder's heart sank.
The other Netherlands players' hearts were filled with even more dread.
At this moment, Rakitić's pass appeared perfectly.
He threaded the ball diagonally.
Suker also simultaneously squeezed in sideways.
With his squeeze, Verhaegh's footwork became chaotic, he stumbled two steps, and couldn't stop himself from falling forward.
And when he looked up again, Suker had already entered the penalty area!
"It's over!"
Verhaegh looked at Suker's receding back, his entire being becoming incredibly frustrated.
He truly gave it his all, but he couldn't stop Suker even a bit.
Facing the greatest striker in the world, all he could do was chase him again and again, only to be left behind.
Unwillingness!
Extremely unwilling!
But helpless!
"Hold them! Hold them!"
Netherlands Goalkeeper shouted nervously.
He stared intently at Suker, his heart pounding violently.
He didn't even dare to shift his gaze to check if there were other Croatia players in threatening positions.
He was afraid that the moment he turned his head, Suker would shoot directly, so he had to keep up with every one of Suker's movements.
"He's in!"
Davor Šuker stood up directly from his seat, knocking over a bottle of wine in front of him, but he seemed oblivious, staring intently at the field, his fists clenched.
Everyone else also held their breath.
"He's going to shoot!"
Seeing Suker lift his right foot, Davor Šuker became even more nervous.
And this action caused Vlaar to slide tackle directly.
Just at this moment, Suker lightly flicked the ball with his foot, lifting it up, and at the same time, he jumped, stepping over Vlaar.
Seeing the ball in the air, Netherlands Goalkeeper's eyes lit up, and he quickly lunged forward, his fists clenched, striking out; he wanted to punch the ball away.
But Suker's speed was faster than him!
Suker, after landing, didn't bother to cushion the ball, but instead proactively lifted his right foot and lightly chipped the ball again.
The lunging Netherlands Goalkeeper punched out, but he hit nothing but air.
Suker then smoothly went around from the left side, and at this point, in front of him was an empty goal.
As the ball dropped, Suker lightly pushed it with his right foot, and the ball went into the net.
Swish!
As the ball entered the goal, after a brief silence, tens of thousands of Croatian fans erupted in wild cheers.
Whoosh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!—
"Goal!! Another one!!"
"Suker!!!!!!!— "
Krauchivich excitedly stood up and roared.
At the same time, he clutched his heart; it was so damn thrilling!
"Suker truly has a mental of steel. How did he dare to make those moves, and twice! If it were an ordinary player, they would have shot already, but Suker still held back, looking for the best shooting opportunity, even dribbling past the last two defenders!"
Krauchivich sighed endlessly. The more crucial the moment, the more Suker's value was demonstrated to the extreme.
Perhaps this is the difference between greatness and ordinariness!
After scoring, Suker ran directly towards the stands.
He was greeted by thunderous cheers, like mountains calling and seas roaring.
Croatian fans had gone crazy!
They repeatedly chanted Suker's name, shouting and cheering like mad.
A two-goal lead!
They had one foot in the World Cup final!
30 minutes into the first half, with a two-goal lead, the situation was very favorable for them.
Next, they just needed to stabilize the situation and slowly run down the clock.
They didn't even wish for more goals; after all, reaching the final was better than anything!
"God! How can you be so calm?!"
Mandžukić pounced over, excitedly embracing Suker's shoulders, patting Suker's chest, his face full of amazement.
He had witnessed Suker's handling in the penalty area perfectly.
He thought Suker was going to shoot both times he dribbled, but this guy stubbornly held back.
Or rather, this was Suker's ultimate confidence in his own technique.
Only this could create such a goal.
Suker didn't feel much about it; in fact, in his career, in the League, there were many more spectacular goals than this.
But this was the World Cup semi-final, and thus, depending on the importance of the match, the effect of the goal would be vastly different.
However, he was also very happy to have scored this beautiful goal, and of course, he would be even happier to win the match.
"Damn it! You scared me to death!"
Davor Šuker patted his chest, exhaling continuously.
When Vlaar slide-tackled, he thought Suker was going to be brought down.
When the Goalkeeper lunged forward, he thought Suker was being overconfident.
But Suker, both times, used exquisite and fluid skill to successfully get past both players and score this spectacular goal.
But honestly, he had to admire Suker's calmness.
The bigger the event, the more important the event, the pressure it exerts on oneself can lead to a reduction in performance.
But Suker did the opposite; the bigger the event, the more astonishing his performance was.
This is what is called ball of steel.
Of course, his technical skills were also a strong point.
"How did this guy train his skills?"
Davor Šuker was puzzled.
When he coached Suker, this guy wasn't so abnormal. How did he improve so rapidly after training in the Big Five Leagues for a period of time?
Now, it even made Davor Šuker feel somewhat confused.
During his youth training and professional career, what he heard most often in the early days was 'genius' or 'talent' and such things.
But these things, in front of Suker, truly weren't enough.
With this talent, so-called geniuses were like dog shit in front of Suker's talent.
"Dog shit!"
Davor Šuker couldn't help but mutter softly.
Boban, beside him, suddenly nodded; "Exactly! It's dog shit!"
Davor Šuker turned his head to look, only to see Boban gazing intently at the field.
"Compared to them, we are dog shit! Look how wonderfully they are playing!"
Hearing this, Davor Šuker turned his head to look at the field and slowly exhaled; "Indeed, this is the match the fans want to see!"
In the first half, with a two-goal lead, Netherlands was almost pushed to the brink.
As for Croatia, they only needed to stabilize the situation and slowly advance the match, and they would naturally secure the victory.