"We've finally equalized! That free kick by Messi was absolutely brilliant, curving perfectly to strike the near post of the Croatian goal!"
"Srna's foul was too reckless—it gave us this opportunity!"
The Argentine commentators were ecstatic.
At this stage, every goal was a massive morale booster.
For Croatia, however, conceding this goal left them seething with anger.
It wasn't just about the goal—it was about the blatant favoritism in the referee's calls.
"In the previous attacks, Suker kept getting his legs kicked by Mascherano and Rodríguez, yet no punishment. But Srna commits one foul and gets a yellow card? That's obviously biased officiating. Damn bastard!"
The Croatian fans were furious too.
They shouted angrily toward the pitch, hurling threats.
"Son of a bitch! I swear I'll kill you!"
"Disgusting bastard, are you only here to favor Argentina?"
"You're not qualified to officiate this match!"
"Go to hell, asshole!"
Van Stoyak squinted slightly.
Referees are human too—they have emotions.
Beyond shady deals, many calls on the pitch are driven by personal bias.
Like the infamous "Big Four" referees in the Premier League—each more notorious than the last.
That's what you get with subjectivity.
He wasn't sure where this referee's bias lay.
But one thing was certain: it definitely wasn't in favor of Croatia—or Suker.
So maybe he liked Argentina, or perhaps he was a fan of Messi or Maradona.
That would explain such unreasonable officiating.
Either way, for someone to dare officiate like this in a World Cup game, he clearly lacked experience.
The World Cup isn't like domestic leagues—a referee's personal safety can genuinely be at risk after a controversial game.
Best, a referee from the Netherlands, did not deny that he admired Maradona, and admitted this influenced his calls a little.
It was his first World Cup match, and it was a far cry from domestic leagues or the Champions League.
After penalizing Croatia, he was greeted with 'warm' responses from Croatian fans.
Even Suker had repeatedly told him that after this match, he would use every possible means to hold him accountable for the officiating.
After this barrage of pressure, Best started to feel afraid.
He even began to look dazed.
When Suker stared him down, Best couldn't even hold eye contact.
Suker noticed and turned, saying, "That guy's lost his nerve!"
Kranjčar grinned. "But we still conceded."
"Then let's score again!" Suker shrugged. "Just keep feeding me the ball—I don't believe he'll keep blowing calls like that."
Whistle!
The game restarted.
Croatia resumed feeding the ball frequently to Suker.
Suker would receive and then quickly distribute.
He also noticed that Mascherano and Rodríguez were now eyeing his legs.
Suker dropped back slightly, asking for the ball again.
Modrić delivered a sharp through pass.
Suker leaned back slightly, holding off Rodríguez, but just as he was about to receive and turn, Mascherano slid in hard, taking him down.
"You son of a bitch!!"
"Butcher!!"
"Is sliding tackles all you know?!"
Croatian fans exploded in rage.
Suker rolled on the ground clutching his leg.
He wasn't in terrible pain—he'd anticipated it and protected himself.
He just wanted to see how the ref would react.
Sure enough—the whistle blew.
With a sharp blast, Mascherano was shown a yellow card.
Mascherano looked stunned.
He'd gotten away with so many fouls earlier. Now, with just a bit of pressure from Croatia, the referee cracked?
"Are you alright? Can you keep playing?" the ref came over, signaling goodwill to Suker.
Suker nodded and stood up immediately.
An idol is still an idol—but not at the cost of your safety.
This Dutch referee was now trying to "balance" things out.
If Argentina's fouls were previously tolerated, Croatia would now get the same leeway.
Thud!
Messi was taken down by Rakitić again.
Argentina players raised their hands in protest, but the ref didn't even blow—he pointed forward: advantage play.
Seeing this, Rakitić, still on the ground, propped himself up and passed the ball to Modrić.
Modrić looked up and searched for Suker.
Suker had already drifted to the opponent's back line, running laterally.
Modrić delivered a long ball.
Suker looped around and sprinted toward the right wing.
Perišić dashed into the center.
As Suker ran, he tracked Perišić's position.
Suddenly, he shifted tempo, nudged the ball sideways, and darted into the penalty area.
Otamendi tried to shoulder Suker off the ball—but couldn't budge him.
Suker passed the ball across to Perišić.
Perišić watched the ball closely, saw a defender in front, with no shooting angle. A shot would almost certainly be blocked.
So, he faked, let the ball roll between his legs.
"Can Perišić seize this moment? Can he put Croatia back in the lead—he lets it go!!"
Klausić suddenly stood up.
He saw the ball roll to the far post—no defenders nearby.
Kranjčar stepped into the ball's path, striking it cleanly with his left foot.
The ball curved slightly, lifted over the diving keeper, and flew into the far corner.
Swish!
Goal.
37th minute—Croatia took the lead again.
Only six minutes after Argentina had equalized, Croatia pulled ahead once more.
The front-line interplay was excellent.
And Kranjčar scored his first-ever World Cup goal.
"GOOOOOAAALLL!!!"
"Kranjčar!! We're ahead again! Just six minutes after they tied it, we've retaken the lead!"
"Perišić's clever dummy was key—he drew the entire defense and let the ball roll to the back post, where Kranjčar calmly finished!"
"Exactly! That's how we play—don't give Argentina another chance! End this match now!"
In the corner, everyone celebrated fiercely.
Croatia led again.
Though Kranjčar scored, Perišić got even more praise.
That inspired dummy was critical.
Suker had been sprinting outside, and Perišić could've passed to him, but instead took a more brilliant route.
Suker looked at Perišić—the future "Sabre."
A seriously underrated player, even during Mandžukić's time, Perišić had been Croatia's real top scorer, often netting at crucial moments.
He might not be as flashy or versatile as Di María.
But guys like him—one decisive moment could be more valuable than ten average goals.
This World Cup, coach Van Stajak had made him a starter.
And Perišić had not let him down.
Suker walked up and patted his head.
"Well done."
Perišić froze, emotions swirling.
His former idol now seemed out of reach, yet that compliment sent a rush of joy through him.
He didn't want to admit it—but maybe, deep down, he'd already been conquered.
Croatia's goal made the Argentines visibly tense again.
They had just equalized—now they were behind.
"Hold the backline!" Higuaín shouted.
Demiquelis snapped back, "Why don't you score?! Wasted so many chances!"
Higuaín's face turned purple. Just as he was about to explode, teammates held him back.
Everyone knew—things were slipping away.
"Let's just stabilize!" Messi said through clenched teeth. "Let's play patient."
Higuaín muttered, "What good is patient play—you're not Suker."
He said it quietly—Messi didn't hear, but Di María did.
And he didn't refute it.
In those key attributes, Messi simply didn't compare to Suker.
Less than ten minutes remained in the half. Croatia tightened their defense, and Argentina's attack became even more difficult.
They wanted to equalize again, but also had to guard against counterattacks—Suker was always lurking.
So, they hesitated on offense and got sloppy on defense—perfect for Croatia's time-wasting strategy.
Halftime whistle.
"End of the first half—Croatia leads Argentina 2–1."
"Argentina must come out more aggressive in the second half—they've got no room left to retreat."
Inside the Argentina locker room—
Maradona entered and immediately asked, "What's the score in the Bosnia vs Korea match?"
"Still 0–0," said the assistant.
Maradona rubbed his temples, deeply frustrated.
He exhaled slowly and said, "Boys, do you know how I won the World Cup?"
Everyone looked up.
To them, Maradona was godlike.
They needed his guidance now more than ever.
"During the World Cup, there's always pressure and difficulty. We overcame it—and stood atop the world."
"Remember—football is a game of movement. Never giving up is its essence. Don't worry about Bosnia or Korea. If we beat Croatia, we've done our part!"
"I don't want my first World Cup as coach to end in group-stage disgrace. And I don't want to see you come home with your heads down. At the very least—give it everything you've got!"
Maradona's voice dropped low: "Let's fight for our future in the second half!"
He looked at Messi with hope.
Messi knew it—but couldn't meet Maradona's eyes.
He lacked the courage to respond.
He lacked the confidence to carry Argentina like Maradona once did.
He simply didn't have the strength to bear that responsibility.
Meanwhile, Suker sat on the bench with a medical team spraying his swollen ankle.
The first half had left his ankle black and blue—Argentina's fouls had been brutal.
"Don't overthink during the match. If you don't know where to pass—just pass it to me. If we lose the ball, it's my responsibility!"
Suker pounded his chest: "Be confident—we're old guys now! Don't let the youngsters laugh at us!"
Everyone looked at Perišić.
He blinked. In the Croatian squad, he really was the youngest.
He quickly waved his hands: "I didn't say anything!"
Suker: "Why not? Say what you think! If I suck—say it to my face!"
Rakitić grumbled, "At the 21st minute, I was wide open, but you still shot it yourself…"
Suker's boot flew past Rakitić's head, silencing him. He threw it back with a grumble.
Everyone rolled their eyes.
Typical double standards!
Clap clap!
Van Stojak clapped: "We'll make substitutions at 55 minutes. Same overall tactics—tight defense. But offensively, we'll go wide and cross into the center!"
Mandžukić lit up. "I'm ready for war!"
Van Stoyak nodded. "Argentina's tired, and they're behind. We'll force their subs into defense. If they can't reinforce their attack, their offense will collapse. Mandžukić goes in. The other two subs are for defense—especially Srna. You're on a yellow—be careful."
Bilić asked, "What if they gamble and sub for offense instead?"
Van Stoyak smirked.
He hoped they would—then Croatia would rip their defense apart.
Halftime ended.
As Croatia returned to the pitch, they noticed Argentina had made two changes.
Di María and Otamendi off.
Pastore and Agüero on.
Argentina now lined up in a 3-4-3.
Three defenders?
Suker knew this system well.
Few European managers could pull it off.
It demanded immense individual skill from defenders.
But Maradona had gone all in.
To Croatia, this was a gift.
Van Stoyak almost laughed.
He'd expected Argentina to play more cautiously—but they'd gone radical.
Maradona looked at the field, brows furrowed.
He knew what Van Stoyak was thinking.
He'd played too many games not to sense tactics.
But what could he do?
He had no other choice.
Try to outlast Croatia?
Ridiculous!
Besides their other nicknames—"Checkerboard Army," "Eastern European Knights"—Croatia had another lesser-known name:
"Grinders."
Any team that went toe-to-toe with Croatia in stamina came away bruised.
In terms of running stats, Croatia ranked among the highest in the World Cup.
Dragging the tempo would only doom Argentina—it'd just get pulled into Croatia's rhythm and slowly worn down.
So, Maradona went all in.
It was all or nothing.
If they were going to fall—they'd fall charging forward.
Whistle!!
Second half began. Sides switched.
Argentina attacked first—fierce and relentless.
Pace, passing, and pressing all increased.
No more lateral passing—everything went forward.
Their momentum surged.
Croatia responded with calm, layered defense.
If Argentina's offense was a raging storm, Croatia's defense was a rock in the sea—steady and unmoved.
Meanwhile, Croatia's counterattacks remained lightning-fast—three or four touches and they were shooting.
It exhausted Argentina.
But they had no choice—they had to push.
"Score! Come on, score!" Maradona clenched his fists on the sidelines.
Failing to score despite dominance was a bad sign.
Worse still—minute 55 was approaching. Croatia's subs would bolster both defense and attack.
Argentina's chances would shrink even more.
Thud!
Ball went out—Argentina corner.
Maradona shouted, "Make it count—five minutes left!"
But then—the whistle blew.
Substitution signal.
Maradona blinked. He looked up.
Two Croatian players stood ready to sub in.
He was stunned. "It's not even 55 minutes yet…"
Van Stoyak glanced his way.
He liked making subs at 55—but that didn't mean he had to.
With Argentina attacking so hard, why give them five more minutes?
55th minute—Croatia made their first changes.
Kranjčar and Perišić off.
Mandžukić and Dujmović on.
Formation changed to a 4-4-2—more defensive solidity.
Maradona's eyes reflected quiet despair.
They might really be leaving the World Cup at the group stage.