5 questions about Croatia’s World Cup final chances, (sort of) answered
Can Croatia actually beat France?
For a game played by thousands of billions of people, and for a competition that has been running for the best part of 100 years, the very top of the men’s international game is an exclusive club. A total of 79 teams have taken part in the men’s World Cup, over 21 tournaments. But only 13 have ever made it to the final, and only nine have ever won.
On Sunday the former number increases by one, though it will be shock if the latter does as well. Croatia go into their first World Cup final as heavy underdogs, and if they merely end up joining Czechoslovakia, Hungary, Sweden, and the Netherlands in the group of silver medalists, they’ll still have had a tournament well beyond everybody’s expectations.
… but could they win it?
In character, Croatia’s path to the final has been the diametric opposite to that taken by France. The French have been, for the most part, both controlling and self-controlled, perfectly happy to devote their vast reserves of talent to the business of being precisely one notch better than their opponents. When they didn’t blow Australia apart in the opening game, it looked like a potential problem; six games in, it seems to be a feature. Good enough is always good enough.
On the other hand, Croatia have been doing just enough. Oddly, their two best performances have come against the two former champions: they picked apart a dysfunctional Argentina in the group, and then, after a rocky start, threw a sleeper hold around a willing-but-limited England. But they couldn’t beat either Denmark or Russia in 120 minutes, and while penalty shoot-outs aren’t exactly a lottery, they’re rarely testament to anything convincing.
… but could they win it?
Which isn’t to say that they aren’t very good. They are. At times and in places, they’re brilliant. Although Paul Pogba and N’golo Kanté might dissent, the Croats have perhaps the strongest midfield in the competition. Most other nations would dearly love to be able to call on one of Luka Modrić or Ivan Rakitić, and Croatia get to pick them both.
The supporting cast isn’t bad either: Marcelo Brozović has complemented his midfield betters nicely, and Šime Vrsajlko has been a revelation at right-back. Up front, there’s the quietly extraordinary Mario Mandzukić, a man built from nothing but sinew and bloody-mindedness, who prowls around defences like the terrifying lovechild of Pete Postlethwaite and the Demogorgon. No wonder John Stones decided to hide under the blanket.
What’s interesting about all this is that it makes Croatia atypical underdogs. If France were playing Russia, for example, then they could reasonably expect to be confronted with five or six men strung along the edge of the penalty area. Come and break us down, if you think you’re good enough. But even if Dejan Lovren really is the defender he thinks he is, Croatia’s strengths are such that they need the ball. They have to come out and play.
… but could they win it?
What makes this run to the final even more intriguing is the mess that has been unfolding in Croatian football more broadly. On the pitch, Croatia’s national team are pretty good; off it, they are the contested centre of a series of entangled arguments about corruption, nationalism, and identity.
While far too lengthy and complicated to summarise here — that Twitter thread is a good place to start — let it suffice to say that Croatian football, in the broadest sense, is not the calm, peaceful, all-pulling-together environment that the sight of beaming fans in checkered shirts might suggest. Of course, sometimes such febrility can be channeled into on-field performances; perhaps that’s what happening here.
You’re avoiding the question
Yes. Yes. Er … I don’t know?
They probably shouldn’t win it. The weight of sporting evidence all leans towards France, and so does everything else. They are bigger, they are better, they are the Proper World Cup Winning Team. And Croatia, having played three periods of extra-time, have one more game in their legs than France. Looking at the state of them at the end of the England game, it’ll be a surprise if they make it through the anthems.
Yet on the other hand, there’s always something alluring about teams that have had to scrap their way to the big games. They seem to have a grasp on the moment, in some vaguely mystical sense: they are driven, and in that driving, they are taking the tournament with them.
This doesn’t always translate to victory, of course. Common sense tends to win out, at the last. But if they do pull it off, they’ll be precisely the World Cup champions that this chaotic, imbalanced, weird tournament (and hey, world) deserves.
