Showing posts with label FIFA World Cup 2018. Show all posts
Showing posts with label FIFA World Cup 2018. Show all posts

Sunday, September 5, 2021

Mario Mandzukic: The Underrated Warrior of Modern Football


 In the pantheon of football greats dominated by Cristiano Ronaldo and Lionel Messi, it has been difficult for any other player to shine as brightly. Yet, amidst this era of unparalleled brilliance, a few have carved their legacies with grit, determination, and an unrelenting work ethic. Among them is Mario Mandžukić, a footballer whose career is a testament to perseverance and versatility, embodying the spirit of a warrior on the pitch.

The Formative Years: Resilience Born of Adversity

Mandžukić's story begins in the war-torn Balkans, a region scarred by the dissolution of Yugoslavia. Born in Slavonski Brod, a Croatian town on the Bosnian border, Mandžukić’s early life was marked by upheaval. As conflict engulfed his homeland, his family sought refuge in the German town of Ditzingen. It was here, far from the ravages of war, that young Mario found solace in football.

In 1992, he joined local club TSF Ditzingen, where his raw talent began to take shape. Returning to Croatia in 1996, he continued his footballing journey with NK Marsonia and later NK Zagreb. These formative years were not just about honing his skills but also about developing the mental fortitude that would define his career.

The Rise at Dinamo Zagreb: A Star in the Making

In 2007, Mandžukić joined Dinamo Zagreb, a club synonymous with Croatian football excellence. He was brought in to replace the Arsenal-bound Eduardo da Silva, and expectations were high. At just 21, Mandžukić showcased a fiery determination, finishing his debut season with 12 goals and 11 assists. Despite disciplinary challenges, his relentless drive and professional attitude endeared him to fans.

The following season saw him emerge as the league’s top scorer with 16 goals, solidifying his place as one of Croatia’s brightest talents. His performances caught the attention of European clubs, but Dinamo’s valuation of their star forward delayed his departure, giving Mandžukić more time to refine his craft.

Bundesliga Breakthrough: Wolfsburg and Bayern Munich

Mandžukić’s move to VfL Wolfsburg in 2010 marked the beginning of his Bundesliga journey. Initially deployed as a winger, he found his stride as a striker after Edin Džeko's departure. Over two seasons, he scored 20 goals in 56 appearances, earning a reputation as a hard-working and dependable forward.

It was his performances at Euro 2012, however, that caught the eye of Bayern Munich. Joining the Bavarian giants for a modest €13 million, Mandžukić became an integral part of a team seeking redemption after back-to-back Bundesliga titles for Borussia Dortmund. In his debut season, he outscored Mario Gómez and played a pivotal role in Bayern’s treble-winning campaign, including a crucial goal in the Champions League final against Dortmund.

Versatility and Tenacity: The Hallmarks of Mandžukić

At Bayern, Mandžukić epitomized the modern forward. He was not just a goal-scorer but a tireless worker, pressing opponents, tracking back, and creating space for teammates. His adaptability allowed him to excel in various roles—be it as a target man, winger, or even a defensive forward. His physicality, aerial prowess, and stamina earned him nicknames like “Super Mario” and “Đilkoš,” a nod to his rugged, no-nonsense style.

The Atlético Madrid Chapter: Perfecting the Warrior Spirit

In 2014, Mandžukić moved to Atlético Madrid, a team that mirrored his tenacity under Diego Simeone. Here, he became the embodiment of Simeone’s philosophy, pressing relentlessly and battling defences with unyielding energy. His performances in the Madrid Derby and a 29-goal haul in 43 appearances cemented his place as one of Europe’s most effective forwards.

Juventus: The Final Flourish

Mandžukić’s move to Juventus in 2015 marked the beginning of his Italian odyssey. Under Massimiliano Allegri, he reinvented himself yet again, often playing as a wide target man or a hybrid winger-striker. His ability to adapt to tactical demands made him indispensable, and his leadership qualities shone through.

One of Mandžukić’s most iconic moments came in the 2017 Champions League final, where his audacious bicycle kick against Real Madrid showcased his flair for the extraordinary. Though Juventus fell short, Mandžukić’s goal remains etched in footballing lore.

The Pinnacle: World Cup Glory and Heartbreak

The 2018 World Cup in Russia was a crowning moment for Mandžukić and Croatia. As a key figure in a team led by Luka Modrić, he scored crucial goals, including the match-winner against England in the semi-finals. In the final against France, he became the first player to score an own goal in a World Cup final but redeemed himself with a goal at the other end. Despite Croatia’s 4-2 defeat, Mandžukić’s contributions were celebrated as heroic.

Legacy of a Warrior

Mandžukić retired from international football after the World Cup, leaving as Croatia’s second-highest scorer with 33 goals. His farewell message encapsulated his journey: “We have made our dreams come true, achieved historic success, and experienced unbelievable support. This has been the most beautiful national team journey, forged through years of pain, effort, and sacrifice.”

In September 2021, Mandžukić hung up his boots for good. His career, spanning over two decades, was not defined by the glamour of individual accolades but by the sheer impact of his contributions on the pitch. From war-torn Croatia to football’s grandest stages, Mandžukić’s journey is a testament to resilience, hard work, and an indomitable spirit.

Conclusion: A Hero Beyond the Spotlight

Mario Mandžukić may never have enjoyed the spotlight like Ronaldo or Messi, but his legacy as a footballing warrior is undeniable. He was a player who thrived on challenges, a leader who inspired teammates, and a striker who delivered when it mattered most. In the annals of football history, Mandžukić will be remembered not just as a player but as a symbol of perseverance and unyielding dedication.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar 

Wednesday, July 18, 2018

Wind and Steel: The Making, Myth, and Merciless Market of Kylian Mbappé

The Origins: A Mirage of Concrete and Dreams

Beneath the grey façades of Bondy, where poverty and asphalt conspire to teach children resilience or break them entirely, the first heartbeat of Kylian Mbappé’s myth began. The thud of a ball against cracked courtyards was his lullaby, the broken streets his training ground, the harsh lines of discrimination and neglect forming invisible fences he would later vault with preternatural ease.

His father Wilfrid, a Cameroonian exile and local coach, and his mother Fayza, a fierce Kabyle handball player, carved ambition from hardship. Theirs was a household steeped in the discipline of sport—a fragile fortress against the rot of the banlieues. Kylian, even as a boy, shimmered with disquieting promise, a spirit too mercurial for the low expectations of his environment.

Bondy may be France’s poorest arrondissement, scarred by unemployment and still haunted by the ghost of riots. Yet it dared to birth a prodigy. And in doing so, lent itself to a new narrative: that these marginalised banlieues could be found not only on France’s police blotters, but also in her moments of euphoric triumph.

The Child as Phenomenon: Between Gift and Expectation

Antonio Riccardi, his early coach, confessed to witnessing something almost unnatural. “At six, he was already beyond our scale.” Mbappé dribbled as if he were unscrewing the laws of balance and gravity, ran as if hunted by fate itself. In Paris, talent was common currency, yet even there, he was what they called a crack—a fracture in the normal order of things.

But football’s cruel market devours the very magic it buys. Mbappé was not yet worth €150 million, but the promise of him was. And so began the ceremony of confusion: a teenager transfigured into a global asset, his private growth shackled to public expectation. He played well and then simply okay—never badly, for genius does not stoop so low—but always under the lurid glare of a valuation no child should have to carry.

In Monaco, he displaced records once owned by Thierry Henry. In Paris, he displaced the innocence of youth. He studied Cavani’s tireless labour and Neymar’s narcotic flamboyance, and also absorbed their lesser angels—jealousy, exhibitionism. This, too, was an education. Football offers no gentle syllabus.

The Revolution in Russia: Wind and Steel

In Russia, during the World Cup, he burst from scrutiny into legend. Against Argentina he did not so much play as erupt, a cyclone of wind and steel that bent defenders and narrative alike. It was a match where Messi’s twilight met Mbappé’s dawn. He chose precisely the day football’s old sovereigns—Messi and Ronaldo—were banished, to begin his own coup.

It is a rare sight: a player walk onto the pitch as an expectation and walk off it as an epoch. Like Ronaldo Nazário, he revealed a terrifying precision at speed—his runs not so much attacking space as detonating it.

Yet the modern game, enslaved by highlight reels, craves impact over poetry. There is the danger that Mbappé might settle for being a generator of moments rather than a weaver of the full tapestry—producing plays, not truly playing. But with Griezmann at his side whispering lessons in tactical fidelity and collective sense, there is hope he will grow into a player who does not merely seize upon the game, but understands how to let the game come to him.

A Nation’s Projection: France and Its Mirror

Football in France has always been more than a game; it is an unwieldy metaphor forced to carry the weight of the Republic’s contradictions. From Zidane’s “Black-Blanc-Beur” team of 1998, burdened with solving racism by merely existing, to the vile murmurs that black and Arab players threatened the sanctity of national identity, the sport has swung between unifying myth and xenophobic trigger.

Now Mbappé, son of Cameroon and Algeria, the banlieue’s own, stands crowned by a grateful nation. Children in Bondy chant for him to be president. Banners unfurl on drab town halls: “Merci Kylian.” In these moments, France sees not a suburb stained by poverty and riot, but a crucible of brilliance.

Yet it is fragile progress. Football is a drug that assaults reason, promising catharsis without solution. The same crowds that wave tricolours today might jeer at new migrants tomorrow. To confuse Mbappé’s brilliance with France’s absolution is to learn nothing from history.

The Price of Stardom: A Cautionary Ode

Mbappé’s market worth doubled the very night he proved he was worth the first fortune. Such is the cruel algebra of modern sport. Football remains a serious thing surrounded by fools—executives, agents, even supporters—eager to inflate the boy beyond the man.

Still, Mbappé has so far met these perils with rare maturity. He donated his World Cup earnings to charity. He speaks of parents who are his compass, of a Bondy that grounds him. There lies the thin hope that he may continue not only to outrun defenders but also the poisons of his profession: vanity, isolation, and the ceaseless need to justify his price.

Epilogue: The Kingdom Ahead

So football waits, breath held, to see if he will become a mere collector of moments or an architect of eras. If he can resist football’s narcotic lure to chase spectacle at the expense of substance, then perhaps he will soothe the future ache we will feel when Messi and Ronaldo finally fade into myth.

In the meantime, Bondy thumps with new rhythms—children kicking balls against concrete, daring to dream not of escape from their suburb, but of becoming its next legend. The story of Kylian Mbappé is not yet complete. And that is its most tantalising gift.

Thank You 

Faisal Caesar 

FIFA World Cup 2018: The French Triumph in Russia

France’s 4-2 victory over Croatia in the 2018 World Cup final was a fitting conclusion to a tournament characterized by pragmatism, tactical discipline, and moments of brilliance. The final itself, though high-scoring, was not a showcase of expansive, free-flowing football but rather a battle of structure and execution. Goals stemmed largely from set-pieces rather than open play, reflecting a broader trend throughout the tournament.

While Croatia enjoyed first-half dominance due to their intelligent pressing and midfield control, France’s efficiency in transitions and set-piece prowess ultimately secured their victory. Luka Modric, the tournament’s Golden Ball winner, orchestrated Croatia’s attacks with supreme positional awareness, frequently finding pockets of space beyond Paul Pogba’s reach. Yet, for all their ball dominance, Croatia struggled to carve out clear-cut opportunities, a testament to France’s defensive organization.

The Tactical Chess Match: Croatia’s Pressing vs. France’s Efficiency

One of the defining features of Croatia’s approach was their pressing intensity—an anomaly in a World Cup largely devoid of aggressive high pressing. Unlike club teams with ample training time, international sides often rely on compact defensive structures rather than coordinated pressing. However, Croatia disrupted this norm. Modric and Ivan Rakitic pushed high to support Mario Mandzukic, while wide players Ante Rebic and Ivan Perisic pressed tirelessly. This strategy unsettled France early on, forcing errors from Benjamin Pavard, Raphael Varane, and N’Golo Kante, who uncharacteristically struggled under pressure.

In contrast, France’s attacking approach was built around moments rather than sustained control. Kylian Mbappe’s blistering pace was their primary weapon, particularly in transitions. Though France lacked fluid open-play sequences, their ability to capitalize on set-pieces and counterattacks proved decisive. Pogba’s precise passing released Mbappe multiple times, culminating in France’s third goal, where Pogba’s drive and vision unlocked Croatia’s defence.

The Importance of Balance and Squad Harmony

Beyond tactics, France’s success under Didier Deschamps was rooted in squad unity and disciplined pragmatism. Deschamps, who became only the third person to win the World Cup as both player and manager, prioritized harmony over individual brilliance. This philosophy had been in place since his appointment in 2012, a direct response to the chaos of France’s 2010 World Cup campaign in South Africa—a tournament marked by internal conflicts, player mutinies, and off-field scandals.

France’s disastrous 2010 campaign, led by Raymond Domenech, exposed deep fractures within the squad. The French Football Federation’s subsequent decision to overhaul team culture began with Laurent Blanc, who controversially omitted the entire 2010 squad for his first match in charge. While Blanc restored some stability, his tenure was marred by racial controversy regarding youth academy selections, reflecting broader societal tensions in France.

Deschamps inherited this fractured landscape and took decisive steps to foster unity. His most notable decision was the continued exile of Karim Benzema, despite his undeniable talent. Similarly, his squad selections prioritized cohesion over individual skill, leading to the omissions of high-profile players like Alexandre Lacazette, Anthony Martial, and Adrien Rabiot. The latter’s reaction—refusing to be on the standby list—only vindicated Deschamps’ decision.

The Evolution of Key Players: Pogba and Griezmann’s Tactical Sacrifice

Deschamps’ ability to mould a collection of stars into a cohesive unit was exemplified by the roles assigned to Paul Pogba and Antoine Griezmann. Pogba, often criticized at Manchester United for inconsistency, embraced a more disciplined role, sacrificing personal flair for team structure. His performances in the knockout stages, particularly in the final, demonstrated his evolution into a complete midfield general.

Griezmann, too, adapted his role for the greater good. Rather than operating purely as a goal scorer, he functioned as a deeper playmaker, facilitating transitions and linking play. His selflessness allowed Mbappe to thrive in a more advanced role, showcasing the young star’s electrifying speed and composure.

A Reflection of France’s Diversity and Identity

Much like the 1998 World Cup-winning squad, France’s 2018 team was emblematic of the nation’s multicultural identity. Seventeen of the 23 squad members were eligible to represent other nations, reinforcing the country’s footballing diversity. This echoed the ethos of “Black-Blanc-Beur” (Black-White-Arab) that defined the 1998 team’s success.

In a politically charged climate, where debates over national identity and immigration were prominent, this team symbolized unity and inclusion. Blaise Matuidi articulated this sentiment: “The diversity we have in this team is in the image of our beautiful country. We proudly represent France.”

Deschamps’ Legacy: Pragmatism Over Panache

Criticism of France’s playing style—deemed too pragmatic given their attacking talent—is not unique. Similar complaints were leveled at Italy in 2006, Spain in 2010, and Germany in 2014. Deschamps prioritized structure and balance, a formula that ultimately delivered the sport’s most prestigious prize. His philosophy aligns with France’s national motto: “Liberté, égalité, fraternité.”

Ultimately, the 2018 World Cup victory was a triumph of tactical discipline, squad unity, and moments of individual brilliance. France’s blend of pragmatism and dynamism, guided by Deschamps’ leadership, ensured they returned to the pinnacle of world football. As Benjamin Mendy put it: “We are a true family. There was an incredible feeling from the off. Thanks to everyone. Allez les Bleus!”

Thank You

Faisal Caesar

Thursday, July 12, 2018

The night a dream was torn apart: England's anguish and Croatia’s historic ascent

It felt like watching a masterpiece shredded stroke by stroke before your very eyes. England’s dream of reaching their first World Cup final in over half a century was extinguished, and in those harrowing moments after the final whistle — as disoriented players drifted across the pitch like somnambulists wading through a nightmare — one could not help but wonder if this would become their life’s abiding regret.

In time, these players may look back on a tournament that subtly recast England’s image — from plodding artisans of anxiety-ridden football to a team suffused with fresh verve. But shaking off the trauma of this semifinal collapse will not be easy. They will forever carry the grim knowledge that the World Cup may never again arrange itself so invitingly, and that for a tantalising stretch, Gareth Southgate’s men convinced even the most sceptical among us that they might actually achieve it. Truly, they did.

Wonderful Croatia 

Instead, it is Croatia who return to the Luzhniki Stadium, destined to meet France, and amid the English post-mortem it would be grossly unjust to overlook the iron-willed courage that defined Zlatko Dalic’s side. The defining act arrived in the 109th minute, courtesy of Mario Mandzukic — a striker hobbled by a ravaged knee. In many ways, that image encapsulates Croatia: a team that survived three successive knockout games through extra time, and which, barring sheer exhaustion, might yet carry football’s most glittering prize to a nation of just four million souls.

For England, it is the consolation of a third-place playoff against Belgium, an afterthought they will greet with the same hollow enthusiasm as Bobby Robson’s forlorn semi-finalists of 1990. Immortality, alas, is reserved for others. Moscow 2018 will now reside beside Turin 1990 in England’s archive of noble failures, grief etched most starkly on the face of Kieran Trippier. The full-back, who had ignited English hopes with his sumptuous free-kick, wept openly as he hobbled off after Mandzukic’s dagger to the heart. He knew the dream was gone.

Yet amid the ruin, Southgate and his team have achieved something quietly revolutionary: they have reshaped how England is perceived by the world. From a land of infighting and dreary entitlement has emerged a squad bound by evident brotherhood, comfortable in their own skin, their spirit brightened by humility. This England bends it like Trippier. This England has a colossus at the back, Harry Maguire, whose primary vocation is — in Southgate’s own words — to “get his bonce on everything.” This England, at long last, has restored pride to its people.

Still, Southgate had warned with sober honesty that his side remained imperfect, and it must have jarred him to witness how abruptly they ceded control midway through the second half. Until then, England had played with an authoritative conviction, suggesting this might become the grandest feat of any team since 1966. John Stones looked every inch the elegant centre-back England has craved for generations; Dele Alli improved markedly; Henderson marshalled midfield security; Maguire dominated. It was all there, fleetingly.

The Croatian Blow

But they failed to land the decisive second blow, and when Ivan Perisic conjured his audacious, airborne equaliser in the 68th minute — nipping ahead of Trippier and Kyle Walker to steer the ball past Jordan Pickford — the game irrevocably tilted. From then on, Croatia imposed themselves in ways both subtle and brutal. England still teased us with hope: Stones was denied by a desperate clearance off the line in extra time. Yet by then, for the first time in Russia, England’s defence seemed frail, their nerves shredding. Perisic struck the post, Rebic squandered a rebound. The siege was gathering.

It was doubly cruel given England’s first-half artistry: their tireless suppression of Luka Modric and Ivan Rakitic, and the ecstasy, just five minutes in, when Trippier’s free-kick soared over a six-man wall, dipped, curled and kissed the underside of the bar. As broken as he appeared at the end, Trippier returns home a bona fide star.

But Southgate conceded that his team’s inexperience may have been their undoing. When Croatia pressed, England’s composure faltered. Clearances were snatched, judgment clouded. In the cold parlance of coaching, they lacked “game management.” Their shape dissolved, their threat dwindled. Harry Kane, destined to claim the Golden Boot, cut a paradoxical figure: lethal in statistics, but strangely muted in penetration. Sterling’s lively but erratic outing ended early; Lingard will replay that skewed first-half chance in his mind for years. Kane’s best moment was nullified by a borderline offside — perhaps it would have stood under VAR had he found the net instead of the post. But it is all mere conjecture now.

It fell instead to Mandzukic, Croatia’s battered warrior, to deliver the coup de grâce. Stones lost him for an instant, and that was enough for the striker to smash his shot home. England sought to rouse themselves, but momentum is a merciless force once surrendered. They will forever remember the night they led a World Cup semi-final — and let it slip.

“We all feel the pain,” Southgate admitted afterward. Football, once more, is not coming home.

Motivated Croatia Looks to Create History 

Modric, meanwhile, was withering in his assessment of English arrogance. “They underestimated Croatia tonight — that was a huge mistake,” he said. “They should be more humble, show more respect. We dominated mentally and physically.”

Perisic, recalling his boyhood days cheering Croatia’s 1998 heroes in his village jersey, called it a dream fulfilled to score and propel his nation to their first final. Defender Sime Vrsaljko dismissed England’s new supposed sophistication, suggesting that once pressed, they reverted to old habits of long-ball desperation.

Dalic, for his part, spoke with an air of prophecy. “This tournament will be won by a team with character,” he declared. Croatia, 1-0 down in three consecutive knockouts, have woven history from grit and defiance. They are the first new finalists since Spain in 2010 — from a country barely 30 years into independence, now writing its own epic.

“This has been debated for 20 years,” Dalic said, invoking the ghosts of 1998. “Maybe God gave us this chance to settle it.”

So the dream shifts from Wembley to Zagreb. England are left to reflect on a campaign that reignited faith but ended in tears — a masterpiece half-finished, cruelly torn from the easel.

Thank You 
Faisal Caesar 

Monday, July 9, 2018

Reflection on Brazil’s World Cup Exit: A Journey of Heartbreak and Hope



For a Brazilian football fan, defeat in a World Cup match is more than a loss—it is a national wound that takes years to heal. The sting is sharper when the Samba Boys are eliminated in the knockout stages, their dreams dashed on the grandest stage. Such heartbreak lingers, haunting fans until the next World Cup arrives with a fresh promise of glory. The ghost of that devastating 7-1 defeat to Germany at the Mineirão in 2014 still looms large, and in 2018, hopes were high that Brazil would exorcise those demons in Russia. Yet, it was Belgium who delivered the crushing blow in Kazan, extinguishing Brazil’s aspirations. 

A Tale of Dominance and Defeat 

As the final whistle blew, Brazilian fans clung to the consolation that they had been bested by a superior side on the day. But for many, including myself, that rationale offered little solace. It was a bitter pill to swallow: a Brazil team that dominated the second half, created over twenty chances, and relentlessly tested Belgium’s defense, left the tournament empty-handed. 

The loss was not for lack of effort. Brazil’s players poured their hearts into the game, particularly in the latter stages. Yet, football is a game of fine margins, and Belgium capitalized on theirs. The Selecao, for all their brilliance, were left to rue their missed opportunities. 

Tite’s Revolution and the Road Ahead 

When Tite took the reins from Carlos Dunga, Brazil was a team adrift, struggling to find its identity. Under his stewardship, the Selecao underwent a remarkable transformation. Tite restored confidence to a demoralized squad, turning them into a cohesive, dynamic unit that dominated the World Cup qualifiers. His tactical acumen and ability to instil belief in his players seemed to set the stage for greatness in Russia. 

Yet, the World Cup is an unforgiving arena, and Brazil fell short of expectations. Still, Tite’s work should not be dismissed. His vision and methodology have laid a strong foundation, and he remains the ideal architect for Brazil’s future. His influence could shape a new generation of players capable of fulfilling the Hexa dream in Qatar 2022. 

Temperament: The Missing Ingredient 

Technically, Brazil remains a footballing powerhouse, but temperamentally, they have been found wanting in recent years. In key moments of major tournaments, their mental fragility has been exposed. Even against Costa Rica in the group stages, cracks in their composure were evident. The team’s ability to handle pressure and maintain focus under duress must be addressed. 

Brazil needs players with the mental toughness of legends like Romário. When Romário arrived at Barcelona in 1993, he boldly declared himself the best—and then proved it with his performances. The Selecao must cultivate players who exude confidence and back it up on the pitch, rather than succumbing to theatrics or wilting under pressure. 

The Next Wave of Talent 

Brazil’s footballing pipeline is brimming with promise. Young talents like Vinícius Júnior, Malcom, Richarlison, Arthur, Rodrygo, and Lincoln Henrique represent a bright future. These players, combined with established stars like Philippe Coutinho, Gabriel Jesus, and Casemiro, have the potential to usher in a new era of Brazilian football. 

This new generation needs nurturing, and Tite’s steady hand is crucial. His ability to foster unity and discipline will be instrumental in transforming raw talent into a formidable team. If Tite chooses not to continue, someone like Rogério Micale could take up the mantle. However, Tite’s experience and understanding of the current squad make him the ideal candidate to lead Brazil forward. 

A Time for Renewal 

Brazil’s exit from the 2018 World Cup is a painful chapter, but it also marks the beginning of a new journey. The Selecao must learn from their shortcomings, particularly in terms of mental resilience, and channel their energy into building a stronger, more composed team. 

The task ahead is daunting, but the path to redemption is clear. Brazil’s footballing heritage demands excellence, and the fans deserve nothing less. As the nation turns its eyes to Qatar, hope flickers anew. The dream of Hexa lives on, and with the right leadership and a reinvigorated squad, the Samba Boys can once again dance their way to glory.

Thank You
Faisal Caesar

Sunday, July 8, 2018

Croatia vs Russia: A Ballet of Nerves, Memory, and Mortal Time

The night was thick with tension in Sochi, where two teams, neither regular patrons of football’s deepest chambers, danced precariously on the edge of history. When Ivan Rakitić stepped up for his penalty—history compressing itself into a single inhalation—he wore the look of a man who had already travelled this particular corridor of fear. Against Denmark he had proved nerveless; here, he merely repeated the ritual, sending Croatia into a delirium that was half joy, half incredulity.

A generation after the swagger of Suker, Boban, and the glory of France ’98, Croatia had clawed its way back to the last four of the world. The echo was complete.

The Small Violence of Vida’s Header

They might have believed it was theirs even before Rakitić’s final word. When Domagoj Vida rose in extra time to meet Luka Modrić’s corner, it was less a thunderous statement than a conspiratorial whisper. The header was neither forceful nor clean, its journey long and uncertain, yet it crossed the line all the same, helped along by bodies that confused Akinfeev’s sightlines.

That ball, slow-motion in its lethality, underlined football’s strange geometry: sometimes it’s not velocity that kills, but the subtle corruption of time and vision.

Russia’s Impossible Dream and the Shock of Self-Belief

It is worth recalling how Russia arrived here, burdened by scorn. Winless in seven before the tournament, the lowest-ranked team in the field, derided as national shame. But football is a solvent for all narrative certainties. A hopeful group stage and that cathartic mugging of Spain cracked open a window to an impossible dream.

They pressed Croatia with unexpected vigour, playing the first half with a boldness utterly alien to their cautious dissection of Spain. Golovin floated close to Dzyuba, a battering ram made flesh, and Cheryshev uncoiled to produce a goal of radiant arrogance—his left foot sculpting a curler from 25 yards that Subašić watched with quiet awe. It was a strike that rewrote the very air, bending it into belief.

Croatia’s Response: The Subtle Recalibration of Fate

But football rarely obeys the initial swell of romance. Zlatko Dalić had left Marcelo Brozović on the bench, electing to start with Modrić and Rakitić unanchored in midfield, inviting Kramarić to float ahead. The gamble bore mixed fruit: Croatia were vulnerable to Russia’s high press, yet once Mandžukić’s intelligent cross found Kramarić unmarked, order was restored. The Russian defence, momentarily hypnotised, left Kramarić free to nod home. The stadium’s silence was like the held breath of an entire nation.

As the match wore on, Dalić adjusted, inserting Brozović and freeing Modrić and Rakitić to orbit higher. Slowly, inexorably, Croatia claimed the middle of the chessboard. Modrić in particular unfurled his influence—turning, pointing, measuring time itself with each delicate touch.

The Tragedy of Fernandes, the Cruelty of the Gods

Extra time swung again, as football often does, like a pendulum with a blade. After Vida’s goal seemed to seal Croatia’s ascendancy, Russia dredged up one final act of collective will. From Dzagoev’s delivery, Mário Fernandes—who would later inhabit the cruel theatre of missed penalties—powered home an equaliser that detonated the Russian bench into a sprint of delirium. They leapt barriers, tumbled into embraces, feeding off a communal madness.

It would not last. Penalties are a distillation of football’s deepest dread, the point at which technique and psychology meet under a withering sun. Smolov attempted a panenka, a fragile conceit that betrayed the nervous mind, and Subašić devoured it. When Fernandes, flush from his heroics, dragged his own attempt wide, it felt as though destiny itself had leaned down to whisper: not tonight.

Modrić’s Wicked Luck, Rakitić’s Inevitable Calm

When Modrić stepped up, he seemed spent. His penalty was modest, paltry even, pushed by Akinfeev onto the post—but football’s impish gods decreed it ricochet across the goal line and nestle inside the opposite net. Even luck appeared to bend to Modrić’s exhausted grandeur.

And then Rakitić, with that studied air of a man signing off the final line of a script already written. Calmly, inevitably, he found the corner. Croatia erupted, a small nation of four million roaring across continents.

Russia’s Poignant Exit and Football’s Brief Illuminations

For Russia, there was only ache, though of the noble kind. Stanislav Cherchesov’s side had advanced far beyond ridicule into a quarter-final that gave them vivid, luminous memories. They did not bolt the doors as they had against Spain; they dared to stride out, to impose themselves, to create. In the end, they died by the same open spirit that made them new heroes.

The Now or Never of Croatia

England’s scouts would have seen all this—the way Croatia’s midfield can smother opponents once Brozović frees Modrić, the warning bells of fatigue in their ageing core, the way Perišić ghosted in to strike the post, the vulnerability on set pieces.

For Croatia, the future is both a promise and a threat. Modrić, Rakitić, Mandžukić, Subašić—all on the wrong side of 30, all knowing that this World Cup might be their last waltz at the grandest ballroom. And so they dance with desperation that makes them dangerous, chasing not merely victory, but immortality against the creeping dark.

Thank You 

Faisal Caesar 

Saturday, July 7, 2018

Brazil Are Out: The Selecao Are Exposed Temperamentally



The 2018 World Cup witnessed moments that will forever be etched in the minds of football fans. The Kazan Arena, a stadium that has hosted its fair share of drama, became the setting for the sudden exit of two of football’s heavyweights: Germany and Argentina. While Argentina’s downfall was perhaps not entirely unexpected—given their lack of tactical coherence and direction—Germany's exit was nothing short of a riddle. Watching the World Champions bow out to South Korea was a sight that defied belief. Since I began following football in 1988, I have never witnessed a German side perform so poorly on the World Cup stage.

Jonathan Wilson’s words about Kazan will surely echo through the ages: “In years to come when this stadium is a crumbling white elephant, they will sit in almost empty stands, hear the wind whisper across the marsh that surrounds it, and believe what they hear are the ghosts of giants. In three games, Kazan has claimed the winners of 11 World Cups.” The ghosts of footballing greatness lingered in the air, but for some, the spectre of failure overshadowed the hallowed turf.

But the biggest shock for many came on June 7, 2018, when Brazil—still the overwhelming favourite—lost to Belgium in a dramatic quarterfinal. With all due respect to Belgium, who had a formidable team, Brazil's surrender felt like a betrayal of their legacy. The Samba Boys had all the qualities necessary to lift the trophy—flair, skill, and an almost invincible aura. But despite dominating the opening stages, Brazil were undone by a combination of mistakes, missed opportunities, and clinical finishing from Roberto Martínez’s men. To the astonishment of millions of Brazil's loyal supporters, Belgium weathered the storm and advanced to the semifinals for the first time in 32 years.

A Brazil defeat in the knockout stage of a World Cup is a shock to the system, a jarring experience that takes the sheen off the tournament for many. For decades, Brazil’s presence at the global stage has been synonymous with brilliance. Their elimination—especially at the hands of a side like Belgium—was nothing short of heartbreaking for their fans.

Why Brazil Lost - A Tactical Analysis

 Several interwoven factors converged to orchestrate Brazil’s downfall on that fateful night—a tapestry of missteps, structural flaws, and cruel twists of fate. It would not be hyperbole to describe their defeat as the consequence of a sequence of unfortunate decisions and pivotal moments.

At the heart of Brazil’s troubles lay the absence of Casemiro, the indispensable shield of their midfield. Without his disciplined reading of danger and forceful interceptions, Brazil’s spine was left exposed. Fernandinho, tasked with filling this critical role, found himself outmatched throughout. His struggles were twofold: not only did he fail to provide the robust screen needed to thwart Belgium’s incisive counters, but he also unwittingly put Brazil on the back foot with an own goal that would prove costly. His inability to track Kevin De Bruyne or regain control under Belgium’s pressing proved to be one of the night’s decisive fault lines.

Tite’s decision to start Marcelo over the steadier Filipe Luís compounded these issues. Given Romelu Lukaku’s intriguing deployment as a right-sided wide forward, Brazil’s left-back was required to exercise caution and positional discipline—qualities that have never been Marcelo’s foremost attributes. Too often, he was caught ahead of the ball, leaving vast tracts of grass behind him for Lukaku to surge into. It was from precisely such a scenario that Belgium struck again, with Lukaku carrying the ball forward before laying it off to De Bruyne, who dispatched a searing shot beyond Alisson’s reach.

As the match wore on, Brazil gradually rediscovered their rhythm. Tite, seeking to claw the game back, introduced Roberto Firmino and Douglas Costa to sharpen his side’s attacking thrust. Wave after wave of Brazilian attacks ensued—over 20 shots in total—but time and again they found themselves repelled by Belgium’s resolute defending and the towering presence of Thibaut Courtois. The Belgian goalkeeper stood as an impenetrable wall, thwarting Brazil’s most intricate efforts with an almost cruel certainty.

Structurally, Brazil remained in their familiar 4-3-3, albeit with two significant adjustments. Marcelo’s return from injury was supposed to restore verve down the left, while Fernandinho stepped in for the suspended Casemiro. In the early stages, Tite’s side created the more dangerous opportunities, particularly through inswinging corners that tested Belgium’s organisation. Thiago Silva nearly handed Brazil the perfect start but saw his close-range touch ricochet off the post.

Yet football often punishes wastefulness. It was Belgium who struck first, capitalising on Brazil’s vulnerability when Fernandinho inadvertently headed into his own net. Chasing the game from the 13th minute, Brazil began funnelling their attacks down the flanks, as Belgium’s midfield compacted centrally. Neymar, however, found himself shackled by a clever Belgian plan—Marouane Fellaini and Thomas Meunier doubled up effectively, denying him the space to weave his magic.

Marcelo’s overlapping runs were infrequent and oddly hesitant. Too often he lingered behind Neymar, resorting to hopeful crosses that were easily dealt with by Belgium’s imposing back three. The samba spark was conspicuously absent, replaced by a mechanical rhythm that Belgium dealt with comfortably.

The game’s pivotal tactical imbalance lay in Fernandinho’s positioning. With Belgium continually threatening in transitions, the Manchester City midfielder drifted right to cover for the advancing Fagner, abandoning the centre. Even so, this adjustment did little to plug the gaps. It was precisely from this fractured shape that Belgium added their second—Lukaku bulldozing forward, unchallenged, before releasing De Bruyne for a stunning strike that underscored Brazil’s fragility.

Neymar and Coutinho began finding greater joy down the left as the half wore on. Coutinho’s smart movements and curling deliveries probed Belgium’s back line, but the usually incisive runs of Paulinho went missing. Despite Neymar’s darting dribbles, Belgium stood firm and took their two-goal lead into the break.

Tite’s second-half substitutions were proactive but ultimately insufficient. Firmino replaced the peripheral Willian, pushing Gabriel Jesus wide right—a position that nullified his central instincts. Later, Douglas Costa’s introduction gave Brazil direct dribbling threats on both flanks. The Juventus winger relentlessly drove at Belgium, forcing Jan Vertonghen to step out and leaving central gaps. Coutinho began to exploit these spaces, and it was through such a passage that he picked out Renato Augusto, whose delicate header breathed life into Brazil’s hopes.

Augusto’s energetic runs continued to trouble Belgium, and he might have equalised had he not scuffed a gilt-edged chance wide. Belgium, by continuing to leave three players forward, lived dangerously. Neymar and Costa gradually seized control of the channels, stretching Belgium’s defensive shape to its limits. But time, cruelly, slipped away, and with it Brazil’s composure in front of goal.

A late flourish was thwarted by Courtois’ acrobatic intervention, cementing Belgium’s place in the semi-finals and sealing Brazil’s fate. As the whistle blew, it was clear this was not merely a tactical defeat, but a narrative woven from missed chances, individual lapses, and the brilliance of Belgium’s counter-attacking symphony—a night where destiny favoured the Red Devils and left Brazil to contemplate what might have been.

Neymar’s Disappointing Performance

Then there was Neymar. The Brazilian talisman, who had been hyped as the man who would lead his country to World Cup glory, was disappointingly absent when Brazil needed him most. Neymar had his moments, but the spark and magic that we associate with Brazilian football legends like Pelé, Garrincha, Romário, and Ronaldo was missing. His performance was far from the game-changing influence fans had hoped for, and even his PSG teammate, Thomas Meunier, remarked on Neymar's lacklustre display. The weight of expectation proved too much for the 26-year-old, who failed to make the impact that Brazil so desperately needed.

The VAR Controversy

Adding to Brazil’s woes was the controversial role of VAR. Throughout the tournament, Brazil felt that they were not given the necessary support from referees or VAR. The tackle by Vincent Kompany on Gabriel Jesus in the penalty box, which many thought should have been a penalty, was not reviewed, and no action was taken. Whether it was a case of bias or simply bad luck, the lack of favourable calls left many Brazilian fans frustrated and feeling unjustly treated.

Unlucky Brazil?

Luck, as they say, plays a significant role in football, and on that night, Brazil had none on their side. As Jonathan Wilson pointed out, Belgium rode their luck, enduring numerous close calls. Thiago Silva’s header against the post, Paulinho’s miss, and Courtois’s heroic saves were all moments where fortune could have swung in Brazil’s favor. Yet, Belgium remained resilient, cutting through Brazil on the counterattack, always looking dangerous with every break forward.

Martínez’s Tactical Masterstroke

 Head coach Roberto Martinez made two significant changes to Belgium’s starting line-up, introducing Marouane Fellaini and Nacer Chadli in place of Dries Mertens and Yannick Carrasco. Tactically, Belgium retained their now-familiar defensive back three in possession, though this often morphed into a back four when defending deeper.

Notably, Chadli’s role diverged from the conventional wing-back duties Belgium had employed earlier in the tournament. Instead of forming a back five out of possession, the West Bromwich Albion man frequently tucked into central areas, bolstering Fellaini and Axel Witsel in shielding the middle. When Belgium had the ball, however, Chadli and Thomas Meunier stretched wide, reverting to the classic wing-back model and offering critical width.

Belgium were content to cede early possession to Brazil, inviting them to advance their lines. In an intriguing tactical wrinkle, Romelu Lukaku began on the right flank, with Eden Hazard and Kevin De Bruyne fluidly rotating across the forward line. Brazil carved out the initial opportunities and arguably should have taken the lead. But with De Bruyne occupying a more advanced, almost false-nine role, Belgium posed an ever-present menace on the counter. Their rapid transitions from deep began to repeatedly pierce Brazil’s structure, with De Bruyne’s drifting movements forging seamless links between defence and attack.

It was somewhat against the tide of play that Belgium struck first—Fernandinho inadvertently nodding into his own net from a near-post corner. This setback compelled Brazil into a more aggressive posture, precisely the invitation Belgium craved. The ensuing spaces in midfield and defence proved fertile ground for their blistering counters.

In possession, Brazil pushed both full-backs high, with Fernandinho dropping between the centre-backs to orchestrate from deep. Yet the Manchester City man, deputising for the suspended Casemiro, lacked the same defensive acumen in one-on-one duels, and Belgium repeatedly exploited this frailty. De Bruyne roamed with almost spectral freedom, drifting from central pockets into the channels before darting behind Brazil’s last line.

Belgium’s most incisive transitions emerged through the elegant interplay between Hazard and De Bruyne. Often gravitating toward the same flank, the pair drew Brazilian defenders en masse, opening vast swathes on the opposite side. This frequently allowed switches toward Meunier and Fellaini, who together outnumbered Marcelo down Belgium’s right.

Despite enjoying less of the ball, Belgium’s threat only swelled. Their second goal epitomised the ruthless dynamism of their approach. Echoing their late winner against Japan, they surged forward after a defensive clearance. Lukaku’s robust hold-up play and surging carry dismantled Brazil’s midfield shape, before he released De Bruyne, who drove an unerring shot low beyond Alisson into the far corner.

The second half, however, brought renewed challenges. Tite’s introductions of Roberto Firmino and Douglas Costa injected directness and width, pinning Belgium back. Maintaining three players high up the pitch, with De Bruyne only sporadically dropping in to assist, Belgium invited waves of Brazilian pressure. When Brazil finally clawed a goal back, Martinez acted decisively.

Belgium shifted into a more resolute back five, though their earlier fluid transitions between a back three and four had all but evaporated. While this reinforced structure initially offered resistance, Brazil’s relentless advances—buoyed by Firmino’s clever movement and Costa’s aggressive dribbling—had Belgium teetering.

Yet this aggressive Brazilian shape was a double-edged sword. Keeping Hazard, Lukaku, and De Bruyne forward granted Brazil room to build but simultaneously preserved Belgium’s capacity to break decisively. De Bruyne continued to drop and knit passes through midfield, while Hazard and Lukaku’s positioning in the half-spaces stretched Brazil’s defensive fabric thin. Surprisingly, Belgium lacked the clinical touch for a third goal that would have sealed matters unequivocally.

Ultimately, it fell to Thibaut Courtois, with a late sprawling save, to safeguard Belgium’s triumph. As the final whistle confirmed a landmark victory, Martinez’s side stood tantalisingly close—just one win away from an unprecedented World Cup final, their blend of strategic discipline and counter-attacking poetry having undone one of football’s perennial heavyweights.

Conclusion

Brazil’s exit from the World Cup is a bitter pill to swallow. Despite being well-prepared, the dream of a sixth World Cup title—HEXA—remains unfulfilled. This defeat, though painful, is a reminder of the unpredictable nature of football, where the best-laid plans can be undone by a series of unfortunate events and decisions. The shock of Brazil’s departure will linger in the hearts of millions, but as the tournament progresses, the world will move on. For now, Brazil’s golden generation must return home and reflect on a missed opportunity, while Belgium moves on, continuing their quest for glory.

Thank You
Faisal Caesar 

Friday, July 6, 2018

France vs Uruguay: A Study in Composure, Collapse, and the Cruel Geometry of Football


Didier Deschamps, ever the master of controlled utterance, had little appetite for conjecture. Pressed on whether France could go all the way, the man who knows the heft of the World Cup trophy chose stubbornly to peer no further than the next match. The question was an invitation to hubris—one he wisely declined.

But such caution could not long mask the truth: France are advancing with a quiet inevitability. In Nizhny Novgorod, they eased past Uruguay with a dispassionate efficiency that was almost chilling, winning 2–0 thanks to Raphaël Varane’s artful header and a moment of haunted incompetence from Fernando Muslera. This was no riot of French flair. Instead, it was the cold dismantling of an opponent that had thrived on grit but had little left once their main blade, Edinson Cavani, was dulled by injury.

There is something ominous in France’s progress—dispatching Argentina and Uruguay with six goals combined, all while carrying the sense they are yet to hit their full stride. If there is another gear, the rest of the field should rightly shudder.

Muslera’s Folly: The Long Echo of an Error

Football is as much governed by geometry as by genius. A cross arcs at precisely the moment a defender hesitates; a goalkeeper’s hands tremble infinitesimally on the ball’s spinning leather. Muslera’s calamity was one of these cruel geometries. Antoine Griezmann’s shot was speculative—more a question than an assertion—but it dipped and quivered in the air, asking Muslera if he could solve its riddle. His hands answered wrongly. The ball, contemptuous of his grasp, somersaulted over the line.

Such mistakes are not ephemeral. They echo in careers. Only Muslera will know in his lonelier hours how he allowed the ball to slip through fingers that, a breath earlier, seemed certain.

Varane’s Redemption: The Head that Learned

France’s first goal was a small act of revenge by Raphaël Varane upon his own past. Four years ago in Brazil, it was Varane who lost Mats Hummels for the decisive German goal that ended French hopes. Here, on a warm Russian evening, he timed his glide across Stuani to perfection, meeting Griezmann’s cunningly stuttered free-kick with a header that kissed the far netting.

It was a beautifully plotted sequence—a moment where memory and redemption collided, and where a ghost from Brazil was quietly exorcised. 

Uruguay’s Lost Teeth

Much was made of Uruguay’s snarling defence—one goal conceded in seven matches, a fortress patrolled by the stern visages of Godín and Giménez. But fortresses fall not just to battering rams but to the slow depletion of morale. Without Cavani’s clever violence upfront, Luis Suárez was left to chase shadows, snarling at the void. Cristhian Stuani was a placeholder, not a partner.

When Uruguay did finally glimpse France’s net, it was through Martín Cáceres’ neck-snapping header, clawed away by Hugo Lloris in the match’s most delicate balancing act. Godín’s wild slash at the rebound betrayed a man already suspecting the night was lost.

Óscar Tabárez, dignified even in surrender, admitted as much with a philosophical shrug: “There was a very big distance between the teams.”

Mbappé’s Tarnish: The Art of the Fall

For all the thunderous anticipation whenever Kylian Mbappé galloped into space, there was a petty theatre to his performance. When Cristian Rodríguez brushed past him, the 19-year-old collapsed as though struck by an unseen sniper, rolling across the grass in farcical agony. Godín’s attempt to lift him by the shirt sparked a swarm of indignation, yellow cards brandished like comedic props.

It was a stain on Mbappé’s rising legend—a reminder that in the modern game, play-acting has become as studied as the dribble or volley. One hopes he learns that such scenes diminish his own considerable grandeur.

France: A Quiet Tyranny of Talent

If Uruguay were hoping for a contest of wills, they found instead that France were simply too rich in gifts. Even when they struggled to fashion clear chances—Olivier Giroud still searching vainly for his first goal of the tournament—there was an inevitability about their command. They orchestrated the game’s tempo, reduced Uruguay’s breath to huffs of frustration.

Deschamps’ only real concern came when Pogba, involved in the second-half melee, flirted dangerously with a booking that might have ruled him out of the semi-final. Otherwise, it was a night of composed dominance, blemished only by moments of petty farce.

A Shadow Over the Horizon

France move on, growing more certain, more lethal, yet still with the sense of a storm held in reserve. Deschamps will not dare say it aloud. Perhaps he fears that the moment you name destiny, it begins to slip from your grasp.

But there was a chill in how clinically they dismantled Uruguay—a team famed for its appetite for battle. For France, the war continues, and ominously, it seems they have not yet needed to show all their weapons.


Wednesday, July 4, 2018

England Conquer the Ghosts of Shootouts Past in Moscow

Eric Dier was already sprinting towards immortality, moments away from being engulfed by his euphoric teammates. Gareth Southgate, meanwhile, had momentarily forgotten the dislocated shoulder he was meant to be guarding—such was the gravity-defying euphoria in that moment. After decades of trauma, of heartbreak painted in penalty-box blues, England had finally re-scripted the narrative: they had won a World Cup penalty shootout.

It was a finale drenched in tension, soaked in catharsis—the kind of emotional crescendo that tempts even the most measured fan to believe that, perhaps, something rare and extraordinary is unfolding. Restraint? That could wait. England were through to the quarter-finals, and suddenly the road ahead gleamed with previously unimaginable promise.

This was England’s first knockout-stage victory at a World Cup in twelve long years. Their seventh in a major tournament since the nation’s lone triumph in 1966. Awaiting them now: Sweden, with a semi-final against Russia or Croatia dangling in the distance.

Southgate had spoken of his desire for his penalty-takers to “own the process.” They did. Despite Jordan Henderson’s miss—rescued in consequence by Mateus Uribe’s shot cannoning off the crossbar and Jordan Pickford’s electric save from Carlos Bacca—England’s composure under unbearable pressure stood in stunning contrast to the chaos of past failures: Turin 1990, Saint-Etienne 1998, Gelsenkirchen 2006, Wembley 1996, Lisbon 2004, Kiev 2012.

An hour after the final whistle, the stadium still echoed with the songs and roars of England’s fans. They lingered, reluctant to leave a memory they’d waited a generation to make.

Dier joined Harry Kane, Marcus Rashford, and Kieran Trippier in demonstrating why England’s hours of meticulous penalty practice were not mere theatre. Kane had earlier buried a regulation-time penalty, earned amidst Colombian disorder, bringing his tournament tally to six goals—three of them from the spot. His nerve, after nearly four minutes of protest and disruption from Colombian players, was unflinching.

Colombia, even without the injured James Rodríguez, represented a far sterner test than the group-stage opponents Tunisia, Panama, or Belgium’s second string. Yet England matched their aggression with poise and, more significantly, resilience. Southgate’s instruction to play with freedom, to exude ownership and courage, was manifest even as open-play chances proved scarce and set-pieces remained their most potent weapon.

In truth, England might have been spared the shootout had justice prevailed in the first half, when Wilmar Barrios launched his head into Jordan Henderson’s chin. A red card seemed inevitable. Instead, the referee’s leniency gave Barrios a reprieve, and Colombia a full complement to continue their campaign of disruption. Southgate, however, had pre-armed his players against provocation—a lesson well-learned in the tempest of their earlier win over Panama.

Colombia’s tactics in the closing stages bordered on desperation—arguments, theatrical injuries, psychological games—but they delivered drama in the 93rd minute. Uribe’s 30-yard thunderbolt drew a stunning, full-stretch save from Pickford, but from the ensuing corner, Yerry Mina rose above Harry Maguire and Trippier to head in an equaliser, his third of the tournament.

And so it was, once again, to penalties. The shadow of past failures loomed large after Colombia’s first three were converted with clinical ease. But England didn’t flinch. They stood, not just physically but mentally. Pickford’s reflexes denied Bacca; Dier, albeit with a shot that flirted with fate, found the net. Ospina crumpled. And England—so often the bridesmaid of the international stage—had finally danced their way to glory, at least for one night.

It was only England’s second shootout triumph in eight attempts at major tournaments. Yet it felt seismic, symbolic—a team exorcising inherited demons under a manager who knows those ghosts by name.

Moscow 2018 is no longer just a venue. It’s a turning point.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar

Monday, July 2, 2018

The Double-Edged Brilliance of Neymar: Brazil Find Balance Amid the Drama

Beneath the elaborate hair, the relentless self-regard, and the theatrical flourishes worthy of a Bourbon monarch, it is worth remembering—occasionally, at least—that Neymar is a footballer of staggering talent. It was his goal that shattered the deadlock, and if his influence in this match outstripped anything he produced in the group stage, it was because—for once—he refrained from his exhausting quest to be the sole protagonist.

And yet, he remains irredeemably Neymar: the gifted diva, forever orbiting the spotlight. Just when it seemed he might be maturing into a more selfless role, he reminded the world why so many still struggle to embrace him fully. As Miguel Layún bent to retrieve the ball from beneath Neymar’s sprawled body near the touchline, the Brazilian's reaction was operatic. Perhaps Layún made the slightest contact, but the fourth official stood inches away and saw no offence. Neither did VAR.

Neymar convulsed in mock agony, flailing like a man electrocuted, only to spring to life moments later when no card was shown. It was, transparently, a scandalous piece of playacting—farcical in its execution, shameful in its intent. A jarring contrast to the elegance he is capable of producing when he chooses to serve the game rather than himself.

That was the real pity, for until his performance descended into farce, things had been going remarkably well—for Neymar and for a Brazilian team slowly but surely stepping out from under his shadow. Mexico had started brightly, controlling possession and territory until fatigue began to dull their edge late in the first half. Neymar had been largely peripheral, posted high up the pitch, an outlet for counterattacks and a tormentor to Edson Álvarez. In tandem with Philippe Coutinho, he helped Brazil produce the better chances, but the first half ended goalless, and Brazil seemed to be staring down a long and draining duel under the punishing heat.

Then came the moment. Six minutes into the second half, Neymar received the ball on the left, a position he’s made his own. He darted inside, dragging defenders with him. Mexico swarmed, packing the top of the box, expecting a predictable Neymar shot. But he defied expectation. He passed. And not with some indulgent flourish, but with a razor-sharp backheel—a pass that split the defence and released Willian into space on the left side of the area. Willian’s low cross found Neymar arriving at the back post, his reward delivered with symmetry and style.

Here, at last, was Neymar as part of a team rather than above it. As a parable in the virtues of collective football, the goal could hardly be bettered.

That goal symbolized more than Neymar’s evolving maturity—it was a testament to Tite’s tactical intelligence. Brazil played in flurries, with intricate passing sequences and incisive movement suggesting a latent greatness. Mexico posed questions, but Guillermo Ochoa’s string of exceptional saves was the only reason Brazil didn’t put the match to bed by the hour mark.

Eventually, they did. Two minutes from time, Neymar surged again. His shot was parried by Ochoa, but Roberto Firmino, alert and clinical, tucked in the rebound. Neymar would claim the assist, although it was clearly a shot—one more statistical embellishment to his résumé.

Yet this Brazil is no longer Neymar’s one-man show. It is a squad of complementary parts, gradually knitting into cohesion. There are vulnerabilities—particularly at full-back. Fagner, deputizing for the injured Danilo, was repeatedly tested by Carlos Vela and Hirving Lozano, who rotated flanks like vultures sensing blood. Still, the core of Brazil’s defence—Miranda and Thiago Silva, shielded by the indomitable Casemiro—held firm.

Mexico, too, played their part in their downfall. For all their intent and numerical surges, they once again lacked incision. Attacks arrived in vivid green waves but crashed without consequence—undermined by poor decisions in the final third and a midfield too hesitant to join the fray.

This was no repeat of their stunning victory over Germany; Brazil were too composed, too controlled. Where Germany had flailed, Brazil remained poised, allowing Mexico to burn out before launching clinical counters. By the end, Mexico were left with speculative long shots and desperate dashes—impotent gestures against a defence growing in assurance.

Brazil won this match not just with flair, but with discipline. With intelligence. And—just maybe—with a Neymar finally learning that his genius shines brightest when shared.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar

An Inevitable Shootout and the Theatre of Nerves

There are matches where the spectre of penalties begins to loom long before the final whistle. This last-16 encounter between Croatia and Denmark was one of those – its trajectory toward the shootout seemed written midway through the second half, perhaps even earlier. And yet, despite the sense of inevitability, the tie might have been decided by a single moment from the spot in open play.

As the second period of extra time limped to its conclusion, Luka Modrić, whose influence had been expertly stifled for much of the match, finally found a seam in Denmark’s disciplined backline. His through ball released Ante Rebić, who rounded goalkeeper Kasper Schmeichel and was then brought down by Mathias Jørgensen. It was the most clear-cut penalty of the tournament – and the weight of its significance fell upon Modrić.

Memories of Euro 2008 resurfaced. Back then, Modrić had missed from the spot in a quarter-final shootout against Turkey. Here, history threatened to repeat itself. His penalty lacked conviction, struck too centrally, and Schmeichel – heroic throughout the night – made the save. The collective Croatian sigh was palpable.

But Modrić would have his redemption. In the ensuing shootout, although his kick was again nervy – low, straight, and nearly stopped – it just slipped beneath Schmeichel’s boot. Eventually, it fell to Ivan Rakitić to deliver the decisive blow, which he did with unerring composure. Croatia were through to the quarter-finals, set to meet Russia, though not without scars.

The shootout mirrored the match: short on flair, heavy on tension. Christian Eriksen’s effort set the tone for Denmark, his kick tipped onto the post by Danijel Subašić. The Croatian keeper, now draped in national gratitude, would save further attempts from Lasse Schöne and Nicolai Jørgensen. Schmeichel, valiant as ever, denied Milan Badelj and Josip Pivarić, but could not stop the inevitable. Subašić was hoisted into the air by his jubilant teammates – and dropped, in a moment of comic relief fitting for an otherwise joyless game. Manager Zlatko Dalić confirmed, with a smile, that he was unharmed. “He was our hero tonight,” Dalić affirmed.

Curiously, the tie had sparked into life at the outset with an exchange of goals that hinted at a classic. It was, in fact, a false dawn. Within four minutes, Denmark capitalized on one of Jonas Knudsen’s notorious long throws. The ball pinballed to Mathias Jørgensen, who toe-poked a weak effort past a slow-reacting Subašić. Croatia responded instantly. Rebić found Šime Vrsaljko on the overlap, whose cross created confusion. Henrik Dalsgaard’s clearance struck Andreas Christensen in the face and fell kindly to Mario Mandžukić, who spun and finished. Slapstick defending, swift replies – it promised much.

But that chaotic opening proved to be an outlier. What followed was a grinding, attritional affair in which both sides fell back on their most cautious instincts. Croatia, so fluid and incisive in the group stage – dismantling Nigeria, Argentina, and Iceland – seemed frozen by the weight of expectation. Their attacking fluency was conspicuously absent. Aside from a first-half double save by Schmeichel to deny Rakitić and Rebić, and a glancing header from Dejan Lovren, they offered little until Modrić’s late penalty.

 

Denmark, for their part, played to type. Åge Hareide had promised a “different Denmark,” but this was more of the same: disciplined, risk-averse, and determined to neutralize rather than create. Eriksen was their lone creative force, and although he threatened fleetingly – most notably with a delicate cross that clipped the frame of the goal – his influence was otherwise limited. His missed penalty in the shootout capped a subdued evening.

“It was a wonderful effort but this is the brutality of football,” Hareide reflected. “Kasper was fantastic, but it wasn’t enough. Penalties are like war – adrenaline, stress – it’s proven.”

Schmeichel, magnanimous in defeat, added: “If you dare to take a penalty, you have my respect. We win and lose as a team.”

Croatia survived – just. Their journey continues, but this was no emphatic statement. Instead, it was a test of nerves, a night where courage mattered more than quality. In the end, perhaps that was the most fitting tribute to the raw tension of knockout football.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar

Sunday, July 1, 2018

Two Strikes, One Farewell: Cavani Elevates Uruguay, Ends Cristiano Ronaldo’s World Cup Dream

Cristiano Ronaldo, usually the image of defiance and finality, was reduced to a subdued escort, walking Edinson Cavani to the touchline as the Uruguayan limped off. The gesture was noble, poignant—but symbolic too. For by then, Cavani had already written his part in the story: two goals, and with them, Portugal’s World Cup obituary.

Cavani’s match ended with 20 minutes to play, his calf seizing with the strain of his brilliance. He exited slowly, the limp clear, the look distant—unsure whether his journey in Russia would continue. But his legacy on this night was sealed: two sublime finishes had propelled Uruguay past Portugal and into the quarter-finals. Whether he recovers to face France remains uncertain. What is clear is that his goals brought life to Uruguay—and finality to Portugal.

In those final minutes, it was Ronaldo who looked adrift, expressionless as hope bled away. The World Cup, almost certainly his last at full force, ended without grandeur. When asked about his international future, he offered no answer. His manager, Fernando Santos, clung to optimism. “There is a tournament in September,” he said, referring to the UEFA Nations League. “We hope he will be with us, to guide the younger players who need their captain.”

As the clock drained, Portugal threw everything forward. Even goalkeeper Rui Patrício made a desperate late foray into the box. The bench howled for VAR. But no saviour came. The story, for Portugal, was already written—etched by the boots of Cavani and the steel of a Uruguay side sculpted from unity and craft.

Manager Óscar Tabárez spoke after the match of his team’s “absolute commitment.” It was an apt description. This Uruguay may not dazzle in waves, but it never wilts. Even without Cavani, they are a daunting prospect for France. With him, they are a dangerous riddle—ferocious in defence, clinical on the break, and driven by two strikers who know each other as extensions of themselves.

The match began with a strike of astonishing power and poetry—“brutal in its beauty, beautiful in its brutality.” A 100-yard movement that turned the pitch into a canvas: from Rodrigo Bentancur’s elegant pivot to Cavani’s wide diagonal, from Luis Suárez’s control and inside cut to a looping cross of audacious precision. Cavani met it at the far post, his finish perhaps bouncing in off shoulder or face, but the intent and execution were unmissable. It was the kind of goal that doesn't merely score—it declares.

This was a goal born of shared memory. Suárez and Cavani, born a month apart in the small town of Salto, had never met as boys. But as men, they have become inseparable in Uruguay’s footballing psyche—207 caps between them and a thousand moments of mutual understanding. This was their most definitive.

Portugal, to their credit, were not passive observers. They began brightly. Bernardo Silva and Ronaldo each had early efforts. José Fonte headed over. Ronaldo’s shot was blocked. Yet Uruguay were composed. Their central defenders, Diego Godín and José Giménez, repelled every aerial threat. When they did not, goalkeeper Fernando Muslera claimed authoritatively. Uruguay’s shape and timing—particularly on the break—suggested a plan well rehearsed.

The breakthrough came for Portugal after the interval. A clever short corner ended with Raphaël Guerreiro’s delivery and Pepe, ghosting between defenders, headed the equaliser—Uruguay’s first goal conceded in the tournament. For a moment, Portugal had hope. That moment ended almost immediately.

Cavani's second was the epitome of efficiency and technique. Muslera’s long ball was tamed by Bentancur, who rolled it into Cavani’s stride. Without hesitation, he curled a magnificent first-time shot into the far corner. Power, placement, poise—it had it all.

From there, the battle became attritional. Portugal, increasingly frantic, found little in open play. Bernardo Silva added guile but lacked the finishing touch. His best chance came after Muslera fumbled, but the ball spun agonizingly over. Ronaldo, so often the man for the moment, drifted wider and deeper, his influence fading with every cross that flew beyond reach, every defender who stood firm.

Uruguay’s defence, so often framed as old-fashioned, was majestic in its simplicity. Matías Vecino and Carlos Sánchez tracked every run. Godín snarled into challenges. When Quaresma’s trademark outside-foot cross nearly found Ronaldo, Diego Laxalt dove full-length to clear. In Suárez, now a lone forward, Uruguay had their remaining outlet—a combative, wily force who occupied an entire back line by himself.

There were nerves. There were mistakes. But Uruguay held.

In the end, it was Cavani’s legacy that endured. Ronaldo, usually the decisive figure, was reduced to a quiet silhouette at the final whistle. And yet, something was moving in the way he helped his conqueror off the pitch. A moment of grace between two greats, one rising to the summit of this tournament, the other watching his final chance slip into the shadows.

Uruguay march on, shaped by resilience, led by a pair of strikers born in a small town but destined for footballing folklore. Portugal go home, undone not by chaos or collapse, but by two moments of brilliance that no tactics could erase.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar

Saturday, June 30, 2018

The End of a Dream: Mbappé’s Rise and Argentina’s Unravelling

Dreams, no matter how fiercely they are clung to, endure only so long before reality intervenes. And fa ew realities in modern football strike with the cold, clinical efficiency of Kylian Mbappé. In France’s pulsating 4–3 victory over Argentina, the 19-year-old did not just score twice and win a penalty; he dismantled the illusion that Lionel Messi might somehow drag a flawed, disjointed team all the way to glory.

France, who had drifted through the group stage with a cautious, almost reluctant gait, suddenly ignited. Their win propels them into a tantalizing quarterfinal against Uruguay. For Messi, meanwhile, this World Cup ends in a familiar posture of resignation — shoulders hunched beneath a nation’s impossible hopes.

A Portrait of Disarray

How did Argentina — a nation that lives and breathes football — come to this sorry state, an awkward patchwork of mismatched pieces? It is a question more tragic than tactical. Their only unifying thread was a fragile hope: that Messi might make sense of the chaos. But hope is no substitute for a plan. Against a French side untroubled by Argentina’s storied mythos, that void was ruthlessly exposed.

That myth clung desperately to Javier Mascherano, manifest in every lung-bursting tackle and every grimace of defiance. At 34, he ended his international career here, a warrior whose blade had long dulled. Coach Jorge Sampaoli, echoing an old refrain, praised his players’ spirit. They fought, he insisted — and fight they did — but once France carved out a two-goal cushion midway through the second half, Argentina’s World Cup had already slipped beyond reach.

There were whispers of a new Maracanazo, of a journey echoing 1990, when Argentina staggered early but clawed their way to the final. But such comparisons crumble on inspection. That 1990 side could defend; this one merely chased shadows. Argentina’s back line was not so much a wall as the ghost of one.

Tactical Fault Lines

Sampaoli’s latest gamble — deploying Messi as a false nine, Argentina’s fourth tactical experiment in as many games — only deepened the incoherence. Bereft of a true focal point, Argentina’s wide players often found themselves lofting hopeful crosses into a void. Defensive solidity remained a mirage. “We tried to surround him with players, to create conditions for Messi to shine,” Sampaoli offered. It was an assessment as generous as it was strained.

Worse still, Argentina’s insistence on a high defensive line against Mbappé’s blistering pace bordered on the suicidal. It raised the old tactical question: was France’s attack truly fluid, or merely made to look so by Argentine folly? On this evidence, the answer leans decisively toward both.

France’s Calculated Brilliance

From the outset, France’s approach was pragmatic. They set up in a flexible 4-4-2 — shading into a 4-3-3 in possession — with Blaise Matuidi, a natural holding midfielder, deployed on the left to provide balance. His presence, alongside the tireless Ngolo Kanté and the expansive Paul Pogba, ensured that even as France sparkled going forward, they remained anchored in discipline.

Mbappé, restored to the starting lineup after being rested against Denmark, was electric. Positioned on the right, he feasted on the reckless positioning of Nicolás Tagliafico. Twice in devastating fashion, he exploited acres of space behind Argentina’s line: once to win a penalty converted by Antoine Griezmann, and later for a breathtaking solo run that ended with a composed finish.

France’s directness was sharpened by Pogba’s probing long passes, which repeatedly unlocked Argentina’s creaking back line. Unlike Denmark, who had stifled France with compact, rigid defending, Argentina’s porous shape practically invited catastrophe.

Defensive Mastery and Rapid Transition

Without the ball, France morphed into a compact 4-4-2, with Matuidi tucking in to crowd Messi out of his preferred right-half spaces. France’s lines moved in sync, smothering Messi whenever he dropped deep to collect. It forced him further and further from goal, reducing his influence to hopeful sparks rather than sustained threats.

Meanwhile, France’s full-backs — Benjamin Pavard and Lucas Hernandez — were alert to the danger from Ángel Di María and Cristian Pavón. They won duels early and often, then surged forward to supplement attacks. It was Hernandez’s drive and cross that eventually found its way to Pavard, whose sublime outside-foot volley to make it 2-2 was a moment of sheer, ungovernable beauty.

Argentina’s Fleeting Sparks

Argentina did produce moments to stir the soul. Di María’s thunderbolt from 30 yards temporarily leveled the match, a reminder of football’s capacity for sudden, improbable poetry. Messi later conjured a clever cross to set up Sergio Agüero’s stoppage-time header, trimming the deficit to 4-3. But it was a gesture more elegiac than threatening — the last hand reaching from beneath the soil.

A Study in Contrasts

So ends another Messi-era World Cup, not with the coronation many longed for, but with a sobering lesson: football is no fairytale. It is a game of systems — and of stars who flourish within them. France offered a model of that balance, combining structural rigour with the raw, exhilarating chaos of Mbappé’s pace and ingenuity. On the day Didier Deschamps became France’s longest-serving manager, he could take quiet satisfaction in having chosen function over fantasy.

Argentina, by contrast, depart as a case study in tactical ambiguity — slow at the back, disorganised in design, tragically over-reliant on Messi’s fleeting genius. The scoreline, a thrilling 4-3, told one story. The gulf in organization and purpose told another, more decisive one.

In the end, it was not just about who had the brighter star, but who built the better stage for him to shine. On this day, France’s stage was clear, sturdy, and brilliantly lit. Argentina was a crumbling platform, held together by the fragile threads of hope — and by the time reality arrived in the form of Kylian Mbappé, it was far too late to hold the dream together.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar

Thursday, June 28, 2018

The End of Empire: Germany’s World Cup Exit and the Rot Beneath the Gilding

For a footballing nation that has come to represent inevitability, there was something almost surreal about how Germany's 2018 World Cup campaign came to an end: not with fury, nor resistance, nor even heartbreak—but with a shrug. The skies didn’t thunder, the stands didn’t wail. Instead, in the mild afternoon sun of Kazan, an empire crumbled with barely a tremor. There was no Sturm. There was no Drang.

Germany, four-time world champions and reigning holders, exited the group stage for the first time in 80 years. A tournament they entered not just as champions, but as Confederations Cup winners—with a ‘B team’ no less—ended with a 2-0 defeat to South Korea, a team already eliminated and historically inconsistent. If history repeats itself, this one came not as tragedy or farce, but as something more inert: the silent breakdown of a machine that once ran too perfectly to notice its own decay.

A Disassembly of Myth

Germany arrived in Russia bearing the sheen of systematic excellence. Their youth academy overhaul was envied globally. Their talent conveyor belt, seemingly endless. Their depth so vast that Leroy Sané, one of the Premier League’s most electric players at the time, was left at home. But when called upon to score a single goal—against a South Korea side that had lost to Sweden, Mexico, China, and Qatar—Germany struggled to create so much as a coherent chance.

In the end, VAR sealed their fate, correctly awarding Kim Young-Gwon’s goal after it was revealed that the ball had come off Toni Kroos. The final act—the ultimate ignominy—was pure absurdity: Manuel Neuer, playing as an auxiliary midfielder, lost possession far upfield, allowing Son Heung-Min to sprint onto a long clearance and roll the ball into an empty net. A sweeper-keeper turned tragicomic figure, Neuer’s demise was football’s cruel joke on its former innovator.

No Collapse, Just Erosion

Unlike Spain’s catastrophic implosion in 2014 or France’s meltdown in 2002, Germany’s exit bore no dramatic singularity. There was no 5–1 drubbing, no mutiny, no narrative peak. It was instead a steady, grey unravelling—a tournament defined by bluntness, timidity, and unearned certainty. Their only win came via a 95th-minute wonder strike against Sweden. The rest was static.

Mats Hummels’s skewed header in the 87th minute—eight yards out, unchallenged, and somehow sent shoulder-wide—was symbolic. Germany didn’t just lose; they forgot how to be Germany.

Low's Miscalculations and the Echoes of 2012

Joachim Löw's selections echoed errors past. Reinstating Mesut Özil and Sami Khedira for the South Korea match, after their exclusion from the Sweden game, hinted not at flexibility but indecision. Thomas Müller, long off-form, was finally benched—the first time he had missed a tournament start since 2012. Neuer, meanwhile, started all three matches despite not playing for Bayern Munich since the previous autumn. His form was uncertain; his decision-making, worse.

Low’s refusal to rotate aggressively or abandon a faltering 4-2-3-1 setup displayed a conservatism incompatible with his squad’s condition. Against South Korea, the gegenpress returned in part, denying counters—but at the cost of any attacking spontaneity. Germany's famed balance between rigor and invention never materialized. By the time Goretzka’s flicked header drew a save from Jo Hyun-woo early in the second half, it was already too late.

The Keeper, the Cult Hero, and the Cartoonish Ending

Cho Hyun-Woo, South Korea’s surprise No.1, became an unlikely cult hero. Initially selected for his height—his manager obsessed over Sweden’s aerial threat—he ended the tournament as a viral icon, nicknamed “Dae-hair,” a pun on David de Gea. Against Germany, he looked every bit the world-beater, saving six of 26 shots, many of which were tame, misplaced, or panicked.

Germany had 26 attempts, six on target—numbers that masked the lack of conviction behind them. They played not like world champions, but like students scrambling to finish a week-long assignment the night before its deadline.

The Big Bad Wolf, Defanged

Germany’s historical role has often been to end fairytales: to smother romance with ruthless order. In 1974, it was the Dutch and Total Football. In 2014, it was Brazil and their dream of redemption. But in 2018, the wolf had lost its teeth. They huffed and puffed but could not topple South Korea’s straw house.

Low’s loyalty to experience over form echoed his Euro 2012 decisions, when he trusted an aging core against Italy. Then, as now, he placed faith in names rather than performances, and the cost was terminal.

What Comes Next?

This was not merely a bad tournament; it was the consequence of creeping stagnation. Germany’s sixth-youngest squad masked internal contradictions: overreliance on fading stars, tactical inertia, and a leadership core that no longer led. For a nation steeped in rationalism, post-mortems will be meticulous. No doubt the German press will dissect the campaign with the cold logic of Gödel, Escher, and Bach. Some might even commit the ultimate insult—comparing Germany to England’s lost years: a team of egos and illusions, rather than purpose and preparation.

But there is, too, in this collapse, a familiar thread. Germany, more than most nations, has shown a remarkable capacity for reinvention. The same system that bred complacency is also capable of deep reform. It will ask the hard questions.

It will find answers.

But as the curtain fell in Kazan, twilight did not descend on champions—it fell on gods who forgot they could bleed.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar