"FXXK!"
Hiddink let out a furious curse.
Kolodin's defensive error enraged him. As a defender—especially a center-back—your top responsibility is to defend with stability.
But Kolodin had been slow to release the ball, and his attempt to show off his footwork only made things worse.
On the pitch, Kolodin kept his head down. He didn't dare look at his teammates, let alone toward the coaching bench.
He knew—everyone was disappointed. And the head coach was absolutely fuming.
He had tried to break Croatia's high pressing by relying on his passing ability, but it backfired. They conceded a goal instead.
He couldn't deny responsibility for that goal.
Up front, Arshavin stood silently, his eyes filled with helplessness.
This match had already been a difficult challenge, and now it just got even harder.
Croatia scoring so early—it was unacceptable.
"Mario! Brilliant pressure!"
Šuker laughed, spreading his arms wide.
He hugged Mandžukić tightly.
Soon, Modrić and the others rushed over too.
Scoring within the first minute filled them with immense joy.
"The Croatian youngsters are performing better and better."
"Mario Mandžukić, with his aggressive pressing and hustle, created this opportunity. That clever backheel assist helped Šuker score this crucial goal."
"Compared to two years ago, Mandžukić has clearly matured. People used to say he was just a static 'telephone pole' in the box, only useful for headers. But after two seasons in the Bundesliga, he's become a very capable center-forward."
"Of course, Šuker's role in this goal was critical too!"
"This is the power of a double Golden Boot winner in both the Champions League and Serie A—give him a chance, and he'll repay the team with goals!"
"Russia's defense made a mistake, and Croatia's youngsters seized the moment perfectly!"
Commentator Kraljević was absolutely thrilled.
Since the start of the European Championship qualifiers, Croatia's form had become red-hot.
They were held to a draw in the first leg by Russia.
But now, in the second round's opener, they struck with a brilliant early goal.
"We got them!"
On the sideline, Van Stoyak clenched his fist in triumph.
High pressing is meant to force errors—and this time, Russia's center-back gave them exactly that. Croatia capitalized without hesitation.
With the lead in hand, they could now look to control the game.
Russian players placed the ball at the center circle, ready for kickoff again.
Conceding early was a huge blow to morale, but they had no choice—they had to focus.
"No more mistakes!"
Arshavin turned and shouted.
As captain and forward, Arshavin needed to focus on attacking. If the defense slipped up, there wasn't much he could do about it.
BEEP!
The whistle blew again.
The match resumed.
After conceding early, Russia played much more cautiously.
Croatia continued their relentless pressing. Šuker, Mandžukić, and Kranjčar rapidly closed down the Russian backline, compressing the passing space.
Eventually, Kolodin couldn't handle the pressure and hoofed the ball forward.
It flew toward Croatia's half.
"Mine! Don't panic!"
The ball wasn't dangerous as it came down. Šimunić opened his arms and signaled for calm.
He jogged toward it casually, unhurried.
Seeing this, Russian striker Pavlyuchenko immediately gave chase.
Šimunić spotted the pressure, and instead of taking risks, he volleyed the ball back to the goalkeeper.
The keeper passed it out wide to a full-back, who found Modrić.
Modrić played a sharp through ball to a dropping Mandžukić.
Mandžukić laid it off and immediately made a forward run.
Rakitić met the layoff and delivered a crisp pass between the Russian full-back and center-back.
The pass was decisive.
Šuker accelerated instantly, sprinting past Zhirkov and using his body to shield him off.
Šuker didn't even need a touch—he whipped in a cross straight toward the center.
Mandžukić jumped and headed it at goal.
Russia's keeper just barely got a hand on it and tipped it wide for a corner.
"A string of one-touch passes, a fluid counterattack!"
Kraljević shouted in excitement.
Although they didn't score, Croatia's smooth, connected passing on the counterattack was dazzling.
Not ugly long balls or route-one football—this was crisp, cohesive, forward-oriented movement.
"These boys keep getting better!"
Kraljević had lost count of how many times he said it—but he meant every word.
In the stands, Davor Šuker and the others were enjoying the show.
Was Russia weak?Absolutely not.
But Croatia was still playing stylish, fluid football against a tough opponent. That said a lot about their cohesion and individual skill.
"They're playing more beautifully than we ever did."
Davor turned to Boban.
Boban blinked. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Davor pointed to the pitch. "Why couldn't we play like this back then?"
Boban rolled his eyes. "You want me to be Luka, but you're no Šuker!"
"I am Šuker!"
"I mean, you couldn't pull off the kind of midfield orchestration Šuker does."
Davor frowned. "So you're saying it's my fault?"
"Well, it's not mine!" Boban scoffed.
Meanwhile, on the pitch, Croatia lined up to take the corner.
"Mark Šuker!"
"Mark Mandžukić!"
"Šimunić is up too!"
Russia's defense was on high alert—three aerial threats made things very difficult.
Modrić delivered the corner.
The ball sailed toward the center but was slightly close to the goal.
Russia's keeper came off his line, leaped, and punched the ball away.
"Counterattack!"
Arshavin turned and sprinted, shouting as he ran.
But just as he reached the ball's drop point, Vukojević came charging in from the side, colliding hard with him.
It was a fair shoulder challenge before the ball was controlled—just pure strength.
This time, Vukojević won the duel. He sent Arshavin flying, stayed on his feet, and passed the ball back safely.
"Take it slow!"
Vukojević turned to face Šuker and the others.
"Nice one!" Šuker shouted.
Vukojević grinned.
After two seasons of development at Lyon, playing as a lone defensive midfielder, his defensive skills had become rock-solid.
Croatia wasn't just Šuker and Modrić—it had a wall at the back in Vukojević too.
With possession back, Croatia resumed their attack.
This time, they weren't as aggressive.
They encircled Russia's defense like a noose—surrounding without immediately striking. They passed and probed, keeping Russia tense and draining their energy.
Despite being young, players like Šuker, Modrić, and Vukojević had all experienced big matches.
They knew when to push and when to hold.
They knew how to control the rhythm of a game.
For nearly 20 minutes, Croatia had Russia under siege.
Russia had three counterattacks, but only two shots, and just one was on target.
At the 39th minute, Mandžukić suddenly dropped deep.
That movement pulled Russian center-back Ignashevich out of position.
At the same time, Šuker darted into the gap left behind.
Modrić spotted it and played a perfect through ball.
"Modrić with the through pass—Šuker is making the run!"
Šuker received the ball and turned.
Only Kolodin remained.
He locked eyes with Šuker.
Šuker licked his lips.
There was one move he'd been itching to try.
He started doing stepovers.
But not ordinary stepovers—his whole upper body dipped and swayed along with the motion. It was wide, exaggerated movement.
He looked like a human pendulum, swinging side to side.
"Is that… the Pendulum Dribble?!"