The World Cup is unlike any club competition. Given its unique nature and importance, the players' form and health take top priority.
For example, regarding dietary issues, due to concerns about potential problems, the Croatian national team brought a chef from their home country and even had ingredients undergo strict testing before consumption.
This was all to ensure the players' condition and avoid any unexpected issues off the pitch.
Next up: the masseurs!
The Croatian national team originally had one team doctor who also doubled as a masseur.
But for such a major tournament, they hired three additional masseurs to help with muscle relaxation for the players.
For instance, as soon as Suker woke up in the morning, Van Stoyak dragged him to the massage room for muscle relaxation.
Even though Suker repeatedly insisted his muscles were fine, Van Stoyak wouldn't believe him.
Suker could only sigh helplessly.
Modric was lying next to Suker, also getting a massage.
"What do you think Boame and Skolk are up to now?"
Facing his old teammates that evening, Modric was looking forward to the match.
"Who knows?"
Suker shrugged. "Doesn't matter—we'll crush them."
Hiss—
Modric winced, slightly raising his body to address the masseur: "This spot's a bit sore."
"It's normal for muscles to feel sore after a season of fatigue. There's some minor damage," the masseur replied, then intensified the pressure on the spot.
Modric's face instantly twisted in pain, unable to even make a sound.
Seeing this, Suker realized conversation was hopeless. He turned his head to the left.
Vukojević immediately raised his arm. "Don't start on me. You've already scolded me several times."
"You deserved it!" Suker couldn't help but vent.
"Thankfully Pierre had some conscience. What if he forced you to play injured? You'd be done for, you know!"
"Couldn't I just refuse?" Vukojević retorted.
"Refuse my ass!" Suker snapped. "You're such a pushover for Pierre. He took advantage of your kindness and guilt-tripped you, and you just went along with it!"
The more Suker thought about it, the angrier he got.
He really should've tackled Vukojević back then.
"Alright, alright!" Vukojević waved his hands in surrender. "I give up. There won't be a next time."
"Damn right there won't!" Suker growled. "If there is, I'll tackle you for real!"
Vukojević: "..."
After half an hour of relaxation massages, the three of them finished up to make room for other teammates.
During the break, Suker and the others headed to the cafeteria for breakfast.
To keep their bodies light during the tournament, they stuck to essential nutrition and avoided unnecessary eating. Of course, some were too nervous to eat anyway.
This was the World Cup, after all!
While eating, Vukojević pulled out his phone and started browsing.
For the World Cup, South African officials had created a special website with all sorts of tournament updates.
The hottest topic was the seeding of the teams.
Unsurprisingly, as European champions, Croatia topped the list as the team everyone feared the most.
Most European national teams voted Croatia as the most dangerous opponent.
Even teams from South America and other continents largely voted for Croatia.
In fact, traditional favorites like Brazil were overshadowed by Croatia in terms of hype.
"We don't even have a single World Cup trophy, yet these guys are calling us the most dangerous," Modric grumbled.
They were clearly being targeted.
During every World Cup, one or two exceptionally strong teams would become the focus of opponents' research and strategies.
This time, Croatia was the prime target.
With players like Suker, Modric, and Srna—all Champions League winners—and a squad mostly composed of top-tier players from Europe's top leagues, it was impossible for them not to draw attention.
Even though this was their first World Cup appearance, they were already everyone's biggest threat.
For teams eyeing the championship, Croatia was a hurdle they had to overcome.
Hence, the narrative of Croatia's threat was amplified, creating an atmosphere where everyone needed to unite against them.
Moreover, hyping up Croatia's dominance could inflate their players' egos, making them overconfident or complacent.
Sucker wolfed down his meal quickly and leaned over to check the rankings. Seeing Croatia at the top, he couldn't help but smirk.
This wasn't just hype—it was a curse!
How many tournament favorites had been jinxed this way?
The "favorites always lose" theory was rampant in this era.
Of course, running parallel was the "defending champions always lose" theory.
Suker remembered it started this year.
After Italy, the defending champions, crashed out in the group stage, the same fate befell Spain in 2014 and Germany in 2018.
The World Cup was full of unpredictable elements. Reputation didn't guarantee performance.
So, caution was key.
After all, every team here had fought hard to qualify. There were no true weaklings.
No matter how much the media hyped them up, the Croatian players had to stay grounded.
"We are Croatia! Born to be champions!"
"Croatia! Champions!"
Outside the hotel where the Croatian team was staying, fans erupted in cheers and chants as the players emerged.
Suker's sharp ears immediately caught the slogans.
He looked around, trying to spot which idiot had fallen for the hype.
But with the crowd so dense, the voices came and went, and Suker couldn't pinpoint the source.
Eventually, the team boarded the bus and headed to the stadium for pre-match warm-ups.
Meanwhile, in Zagreb, Croatia's capital...
At the bustling Time Square, a massive screen hung from the center of a skyscraper.
The area in front of the screen was a straight main road, still bustling with traffic. But by 2 PM, it would be closed for a public viewing event.
The entire stretch would be barricaded, allowing fans to gather and watch Croatia's World Cup opener together.
Some fans had already arrived early, standing on stone benches, waving Croatian flags, and cheering loudly.
As night fell, the main road was sealed off with movable barriers, and fans streamed in through the entrances.
Within an hour, the area was packed.
From above, the 300-meter-long road was a sea of people, with no gaps in sight.
Men and women clad in Croatian jerseys, waving flags, faces painted with the iconic red-and-white checkerboard pattern, all gathered here.
"Mateo, over here!"
Brozović waved frantically at Kovačić from the front.
Kovačić squeezed through the crowd with all his might, finally making it to the front.
By then, he was drenched in sweat.
"This is more exhausting than playing a match!"
Kovačić wiped his forehead.
The atmosphere was electric—crowded, hot, and charged with nervous energy.
Or maybe the tension was just from the pre-match jitters.
"It's about to start!"
Brozović rubbed his hands excitedly. "Do you think we'll win?"
"Of course!" Kovačić didn't doubt it for a second. "We have Suker!"
The moment Suker's name was mentioned, nearby fans turned their heads and began chanting his name.
Soon, the entire crowd of over 100,000 fans was roaring "Suker!"—a truly awe-inspiring moment.
The screen flickered to life, and the crowd fell silent.
On the screen, Croatia's renowned host, Pestič, introduced the guests: Davor Šuker and Štimac, legends from the Golden Generation.
Their appearance sent the crowd into another frenzy.
Meanwhile, Pestič smiled and announced:
"Welcome to the official broadcast of the 2010 FIFA World Cup in South Africa! In just one hour, Croatia will play their first match against Bosnia and Herzegovina. Can our boys secure their first victory? The answer will be revealed tonight!"
He then turned to the guests. "What are your predictions for the match?"
Davor Šuker shrugged. "I obviously hope our boys win, but we can't underestimate any opponent just because we're European champions."
Štimac nodded in agreement:
"The World Cup is different from the Euros. Teams come from all over the world, with entirely different tactical philosophies. Adapting to these variations is key. I believe our boys can handle it."
Davor Šuker added, "But in terms of squad strength, we're superior."
Štimac joked, "I wouldn't say we're the best in the world, but how many teams can match our lineup?"
Their pride was evident, and it ignited cheers from millions of Croatian fans.
Stay humble when needed, but also know when to boast.
They weren't wrong—how many teams could truly rival Croatia's squad?
Suker alone was enough to overwhelm most opponents.
As the pre-match analysis continued, time flew by.
When the producer signaled, Pestič reluctantly cut off Davor Šuker and announced:
"According to updates from the front, both teams have completed their warm-ups. The match is about to begin! Let's hand over to our colleague on the ground in South Africa—our old friend, Kraušević!"
The screen switched to the stadium, where fans were split into two sections:
Croatia's red-and-white checkered supporters and Bosnia's blue-clad faithful.
They occupied the north and south stands, trading chants in a back-and-forth battle.
Bzzzzzzzzzz—
A sharp, piercing noise filled the air.
But it wasn't a whistle—it was the vuvuzela, a South African horn.
Made of plastic and costing just £2, the vuvuzela was three feet long and produced a deafening 127 decibels—louder than a jet engine at takeoff (124 decibels).
Since the 1990s, South African fans had used these horns to intimidate opponents.
But the noise also distracted other fans.
During South Africa's opening match, the vuvuzelas had severely disrupted Mexico's players.
After the game, Mexico protested to FIFA, demanding a ban on the horns. But FIFA refused, calling it a cultural tradition.
That's when everyone realized just how disruptive these horns could be.
With no way to ban them, the only solution was to fight fire with fire.
Many Croatian and Bosnian fans bought vuvuzelas, turning the stadium into a cacophony of noise.
"This is Ellis Park Stadium in Johannesburg, South Africa. Even through your TV, you can hear the madness here. It's absolutely insane!"
Kraušević swayed slightly, visibly affected by the noise.
The camera then cut to the tunnel, where both teams were lined up.
The shot panned from front to back.
At the front were the captains: Srna for Croatia and Hasagić for Bosnia.
Bosnia's squad was relatively thin, with their biggest star being Lyon's Pjanić. Džeko hadn't yet risen to prominence.
Then there were Boame, Sterk, Sucker Bazić, and other young Bosnian players.
Croatia's lineup, however, was stacked.
Sucker, Modric, and Srna—three Champions League winners—led the way.
Šimunić, Rakitić, Mandžukić, Pranjić, Perišić... most were top-tier players from Europe's top leagues.
On paper, Croatia had the clear edge.
"Bosnia qualified for the World Cup by defeating Greece in the playoffs, with Boame's last-minute winner sending the nation into euphoria."
"There are also many connections between these two teams."
"For instance, Boame and Skolk were teammates with Suker and Modric at Zrinjski Mostar, albeit for just one season. But their bond was strong."
"Pjanić and Vukojević are teammates at Lyon, though Vukojević is sidelined due to injury."
"And this match features two Sukers."
"Aside from our beloved Suker, Bosnia has a striker named Suker Bazić—a 195 cm tall target man with incredible heading ability. Combined with Pjanić and Džeko's playmaking, he poses a serious aerial threat. Croatia's defense must be wary of him."
In the tunnel, Suker Bazić kept glancing at Suker.
But Suker stared straight ahead, ignoring him completely.
Bazić's face twitched in irritation.
He hated Suker's arrogant demeanor.
Boame and Skolk noticed the tension.
"You think Sucker even noticed Bazić?" Boame whispered.
"Knowing him, he's totally pretending not to care," Skolk grinned.
He remembered how much Suker had hated "the other Suker" back in the day.
Back then, Suker Bazić was Bosnia's golden boy, far more famous than Suker.
Even though Suker's team won that match, he'd been furious watching Bazić dominate in the air while he, at just 160 cm, could only watch helplessly.
"Prepare to enter!"
The Italian referee's voice snapped everyone to attention.
The atmosphere in the tunnel shifted instantly.
All eyes sharpened with focus.
They were ready.
ROAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Ellis Park Stadium erupted as the players stepped onto the pitch.
The crowd went wild—Croatian and Bosnian fans alike screamed their lungs out.
The teams lined up for the national anthems.
During this time, commentator Kraušević ran through the lineups:
Croatia (4-2-3-1):
GK: Pletikosa
DEF: Srna, Šimunić, Kovač, Pranjić
MID: Perišić, Dujmović, Rakitić, Modrić, Suker
FW: Mandžukić
Bosnia (4-3-3):
GK: Hasagić
DEF: Skolk, Pjanža, Mravčić, Milenković
MID: Ibričić, Salihović, Pjanić
FW: Džeko, Suker Bazić, Boame
After the anthems, the captains exchanged pennants and conducted the coin toss.
Bosnia won and chose to kick off.
Srna picked the left side.
The players took their positions.
Croatia's 2010 World Cup campaign was about to begin!