"Another match like this—Capello still failed to lead England to victory."
The English commentator sounded deeply frustrated.
It wasn't fair to say Capello and the English players performed poorly.After all, when trailing by two goals, they made quick adjustments and managed to equalize the score, even briefly taking control of the match.
But in the final showdown of sheer strength, England still couldn't go head-to-head against this Croatian side.
Suker's impact was simply too overwhelming!In this match, Suker scored a hat-trick.
His performance and form in such a critical match greatly benefited Croatia.
As for England, it now seemed highly likely they'd have to compete for second place in the group to qualify.
After all, looking ahead, few teams in the group posed a real threat to Croatia.
Croatia only needed to remain steady to secure one of Europe's spots in the World Cup.
On the field, the Croatian players didn't celebrate—they returned to the locker room immediately.
No one could predict what enraged England fans might do. The team couldn't afford trouble here.
"It was a brilliant game!"
As Bilic was heading down the tunnel, Capello called out to him.
Seeing Capello extend his hand, Bilic awkwardly reached out and shook it.
"You played well too,"Bilic said with a polite smile.
Capello shook his head:"My substitutions in the first half were forced by your tactics, but I tried to put your team into difficult situations too. In the second half, your bold switch of full-backs worked—Srna successfully contained Rooney, while Rakitic, Vukojevic, and Pranjic together shut down Beckham. You effectively choked off our supply line."
Capello sighed, then smiled."I look forward to seeing even better performances from you in the future."
Bilic felt extremely guilty.
Capello looked at him with admiration—even as an equal.
That's right!
Capello was placing him in the same category as top managers like himself.
But all of this wasn't even Bilic's doing.
Not wanting to continue the conversation, Bilic quickly said goodbye and left.
Capello watched him walk away, full of mixed emotions.
He had lost this match fair and square.
Inside the Croatian locker room, everyone was celebrating.
Bilic watched the joyful team, but he couldn't share their happiness.
Maybe he really was redundant in this squad.
When he turned his head, he saw Vanstajek leaning against the wall, brows furrowed, looking equally unhappy.
"Hey, what's wrong?"Bilic asked as he approached.
This guy had just led the team to defeat Capello's England!
Even in a tactical battle between head coaches, he held his own.
Bilic deeply admired Van stojak for being able to match wits with Capello.
But Van stojak clearly had a different mindset.
"If only we'd defended more decisively in the first half, we could've beaten them even easier with Suker's counterattacks."
Bilic froze for a moment.
Van stojak was thinking about that even while celebrating?
"Maybe it's just a lack of experience. Come on, lighten up a bit," Bilic smiled.
Van stojak shook his head:"It's not about experience. I knew we had to defend, but I kept thinking about whether we could take this chance to widen the lead."
"To be honest, it was my desire to attack that got in the way. I always hope to score more and finish the match early. That mindset was something Capello saw through and exploited. That's why we had problems in the second half."
"Those two goals we conceded were my fault—I should've been more decisive."
Bilic said, "But that's your style!"
Van stojak waved it off:"I don't have a so-called style. I just want to win—secure the victory as soon as possible. So I prefer attacking, even aggressively. Yes, there's risk, but opportunity often hides within it."
"Damn it,"Van stojak rubbed his head."I'm convincing myself to attack again. This won't do!"
He sighed,"This is only World Cup qualification. Once we're in the World Cup, we'll face even stronger opponents—Spain, Germany, Netherlands, Italy, Brazil, Argentina, Uruguay..."
"These are all traditional powerhouses with top players and elite coaches."
"Brazil's Dunga, Argentina's Maradona, Spain's Del Bosque, Italy's Lippi, Germany's Löw—all of them are at least on Capello's level, some even better. In the World Cup, we'll have to face them head-on."
"And I don't feel confident."
Bilic stared blankly at Van stojak.
While he was still celebrating the win over England, Van stojak was already thinking about the World Cup.
"I need someone to stop me,"Van stojak said, turning to Bilic.
"What do you mean?"Bilic asked.
Van stojak cleared his throat:"This might sound bold, but no offense—I need you. Your cautious and stable approach balances mine. Just like players need time to build chemistry, so do coaches."
"I'm impulsive, and often blind myself for the sake of offense—just like in this match. I need you to stop me at critical moments."
Bilic was stunned."Hey! I don't even know what you guys are doing. How can I stop you? Besides, during the Euros, you guys sidelined me!"
You took away my authority, and now you want my help?
Van stojak looked straight at him:"This is the World Cup."
Bilic opened his mouth slightly, then gritted his teeth.
"What do I need to do?"
Clap!Van stojak slapped him on the shoulder with a smile:"I'll teach you my entire tactical system. We'll analyze matches together, three games per week—video and tactics. Once our ideas align, you'll truly understand the game."
Bilic gave a wry smile.
Most coaching staffs are led by the head coach. But here, he always felt like he was being dragged along.
Still, Bilic didn't mind anymore.
When they stripped him of power, he already lost face.
And when he decided to stay on as Croatia's head coach, he picked up that so-called pride—only to smash it and trample it.
Ego?What's the use of that!
Bilic had come to understand his own shortcomings.Right beside him was a tactical genius.
If they could truly cooperate, maybe the World Cup dream wasn't out of reach.
England 2:4 Loss at Wembley Stadium.
This became major news across Europe.
After being humiliated in the Euro qualifiers, England was now hammered again by Croatia in World Cup qualification.
At first, many European media outlets claimed England had "stolen" a win last time, which English media reacted to fiercely.
To them, that was revenge, not theft.
But now, to be thrashed at home again by Croatia—it was deeply humiliating.
Faced with scrutiny from foreign media, English outlets could only grit their teeth and swallow the pain.
Of course, trash talk is one thing.
But the problems had to be taken seriously.
Despite Croatia's win, England's performance wasn't bad.
Especially Capello's decisive substitutions and targeted tactics—they pulled England back from the brink.
Unfortunately, Croatia's resilience held firm in the second half, and Suker's brace, along with Srna's marking of Rooney, were key in turning the tide.
Suker once again showed his terrifying dominance on the pitch.
Capello offered no excuses—only said that next time, they'd play better.
As a top-tier manager—the man who once dethroned Cruyff—Capello accepted defeat calmly, reflected, and began preparing for the playoffs.
With this match done, only one round remained in Europe's World Cup qualifiers.
Group standings and qualification spots were essentially settled.
Group 1: Denmark, PortugalGroup 2: Switzerland, GreeceGroup 3: Slovakia, SloveniaGroup 4: Germany, RussiaGroup 5: Spain, BosniaGroup 6: Croatia, EnglandGroup 7: Serbia, FranceGroup 8: Italy, IrelandGroup 9: Netherlands, Norway
For the 2010 South Africa World Cup, Europe had 13 spots.
Each group winner would directly qualify.The top eight second-place teams would play in playoffs for the final four spots.
Looking at the big picture, the former Yugoslavian nations were showing astonishing form.
Slovenia, in Group 3, squeezed past Czech Republic, Northern Ireland, and Poland for second place.
Bosnia, in Group 5, under Dzeko's leadership—with young talents like Suker Jr., Boame, and Sterk—was fighting fiercely for a World Cup spot.
Group 6's Croatia remained the strongest of the ex-Yugoslav teams.
As Euro champions, they held an 8-0-1 record, same as England, but led on goal difference to take the group's top spot.
In Group 7, Serbia had even outperformed France for first place.
Among the 13 European spots, the traditionally West-dominated football landscape was being shaken by the East.
Suker was on his way back to his Madrid villa.
His driver and bodyguard Rostov, a former Russian soldier with combat experience, was behind the wheel.
Rostov was a classic tough guy—built like a tank, sharp-eyed, and always alert.
Suker's security detail was no small thing.It was a full 50-person team, centered around Rostov.
Their job: protect Suker and his home.
And yes—Suker paid Rostov extra to serve as his driver too.
Sitting in the back of his Rolls-Royce, Suker was on the phone with Modric.
"I can't believe it—Bosnia's second in the group. They might really qualify!"
Modric sounded thrilled.
He was happy for Bosnia's success.
Partly because they'd once played for clubs there.
Also because players like Boame and Skplk were on the Bosnian national team.
"It's the spring of Eastern European football," Suker laughed."Have you called to congratulate them?"
"Not yet—I just saw the news. You did?"
"Of course," Suker smiled."I called Skolk and told him we topped our group. He hung up on me."
Modric: "…"
Was that a congratulations or just bragging?
Suker said with emotion:"I hope we meet them in the World Cup."
Modric agreed:"Me too. I'd love to play against them. Skolk and Boame have improved a lot."
Suker suddenly growled:"I want to humiliate that dumb oaf Suker Bazic—score ten or eight goals against them!"
"That was years ago," Modric sighed."Can't you let it go?"
Suker sneered:"Back then I had to look up at him. Now…"
"He's still 1.9 meters tall—you still have to look up," Modric teased.
Suker scowled:"I'm talking about achievements, got it? I'll crush him with trophies!"
Modric couldn't help but laugh.
Suker's sharp tongue was how he expressed joy.
"Alright, I'm almost home. Talk later."
"Ten minutes to your villa, boss," Rostov reported.
Suker glared—just drive the car.
"Okay then, see you next match." Modric said.
Suker hung up and looked out the window with a smile.
Boame, Skolk...Time flies.
These once-familiar names had grown distant.
Just as Modric said—Suker truly felt happy for their progress.
Of course, Bosnia still had a challenge ahead.
Croatia just needed to beat Andorra to qualify.
But Bosnia had to finish strong in the group and win a playoff to make the World Cup.
Ten minutes later, Suker arrived home.
Security guards in black suits stood alert all around.
Entering the villa required a full inspection.
As the car pulled in, Suker saw a bodyguard playing with Luna, his dog, on the mini football pitch.
"You guys walk dogs too?" Suker asked, surprised.
"Yes. Complimentary service," Rostov replied.
Suker noticed the bodyguard smiling brightly, waving his hand as Luna lay belly-up, getting full belly rubs.
"This dumb dog!"
Suker narrowed his eyes."Also part of the complimentary service?"
Rostov was silent for a second:"…That's the salary."
Suker rolled his eyes—this guard didn't seem very serious.
"Luna!" Suker called out.
Luna's ears twitched, head tilted, eyes blank.
This stupid dog!
Suker clenched his teeth. She forgot her owner after just a few days?
"Come here!"
Luna's ears twitched again, her gaze sharpened—then she took off like a rocket toward Suker.
Pant! Pant! Pant!
Her tail wagged like crazy.
Her excitement was undeniable.
Suker gave her a few head rubs, finally satisfied:"Go play!"
Luna dashed back, flopped belly-up in front of the bodyguard again.
"You're back?"Zorancic walked out of the house.
"You're still here?" Suker said, surprised.
"Where else would I go!" Zorancic grumbled.
Then he held out his hand:"Come on—high five. That was a great win!"
"Damn right!" Suker said proudly.
Clap!
After the high five, Zorancic pulled a letter from his pocket.
"A special fan letter."
Suker blinked and opened it—then smirked:"You wrote this, didn't you? This is your handwriting!"
"She emailed it," Zoranqi explained."I knew you wouldn't read email, so I wrote it out."
Suker looked down and read:
"Hello Mr. Suker,I'm very happy that you're reading this letter. My name is Anne Hathaway, known to others as 'trash can.'For a long time, I've been facing painful experiences that left me feeling lost and angry, with no way to respond.Even when I offered others beautiful roses, I received only pain and exhaustion in return.I watched your match at Wembley—it gave me confidence and courage.Your performance left a deep impression on me.
Suker—please allow me to call you that—you are destined for greatness.Thank you for giving me the courage to face those dark moments.
I will be leaving this place tomorrow. But before I go, I wanted to thank you.
Sadly, we never got to work together. I won't bother you again.
Thank you once more.
—Your devoted fan, Anne Hathaway"