"GOAL! GOAL! GOAL!""Šuker! Šuker! Šuker!——"
In the Croatian commentary studio, Kraushević raised his arms high, shouting with exhilaration.
He couldn't stay seated—He ran around the commentary table in circles, knelt down, crossed himself over and over,Looking completely out of control—like a man possessed.
That was the second goal!
Such a precious goal!
In that moment, all sense of professionalism, composure, or decorum was thrown out the window.
He was simply a true Croatian fan—And the moment to make history was right in front of their eyes!
Nothing was more important than this.They were about to defeat the mighty Italy.They were about to break free from the curse of never advancing past the Euro quarterfinals.
A new chapter of history was about to begin.
All across Croatia, it was like a volcano erupting.
Four million people exploded in passionate cheers.
Every household was shouting and screaming.
Men were wildly kissing their national team jerseys.
Women hugged each other, crying tears of joy.
Children stared wide-eyed at the TV screen—At the figure wearing the number 9 Croatian jersey.
Yes—
He was the hero!
"We are a nation that has endured pain.This land was ravaged by war for more than a decade.But even that could not destroy our love for football!"
"We may be a small country on the world stage…"
"We only have four million people.But Davor Šuker proved that even so,we can still shine on the world's biggest football stages.The Checkered Army can be one of the most dazzling teams in the world!"
"In 1996, they made history for Croatia,fighting through grueling matches to reach the Euro quarterfinals!"
"Now, 12 years later, we have another Šuker—Two generations of Šukers!Two eras making different kinds of history,But both playing the same glorious melody!"
"Croatia is a small country. We don't have many things to be proud of.But football—football is one of them!"
"It unites us.It makes us shout the same name from our TV screens.It gives four million Croatians the same dream to chase!"
Kraushević was in tears.
His vision blurred, but he kept wiping his eyes,His trembling lips could not hide his beaming smile.
Yes—these were tears of joy!
The camera cut to the stands—Davor Šuker and Zvonimir Boban were celebrating without restraint.
They hugged tightly.
Davor Šuker even ripped off his suit jacket and waved it in the air as he climbed onto the railing.
Leading the fans in chanting that name:
Šuker!! Šuker!! Šuker!!
Then—The entire Ernst Happel Stadium roared as thousands of Croatian fans joined in.
All eyes on the pitch, overflowing with passion.
And then—
ŠUKER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!——ŠUKER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!——ŠUKER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!——
Thunderous cheers!Flags fluttering wildly!Even the wind seemed to carry a burning heat.
Vienna summers were already hot,But this moment felt like the temperature had skyrocketed.
The stadium felt on fire.
"GOOOOOAL!!!!!!!——"
Back on the pitch, Mandžukić tackled Šuker to the ground, roaring with emotion.
Modrić, Srna, and the others soon piled on top.
They screamed and howled.
Their voices trembled, their throats shook.
In that moment, they saw hope—Hope of victory,Hope of making history.
It meant the world to them.
Back when they were all still rookies at Dinamo Zagreb,They were just starting their professional careers.
Now, they wore the national team jersey,Fighting for the four million people back home.
They represented Croatia.
"What a guy!"Modrić rubbed Šuker's head.
He was glad he'd once been sent to Bosnia to play—because that's where he met Šuker.
His national team comrade,And now, his brother for life.
Šuker, buried at the bottom of the pile, groaned a little.
Srna heard the noise and quickly said:
"Hey! Get off! What if he gets hurt?"
The others were about to stand up when Šuker suddenly said:
"Wait—stay a little longer!"His face flushed red."Let's burn some time."
Everyone: "…"
That second goal sealed Croatia's victory.
It was also a devastating blow to Italy.
Time was running out.
Italy made changes first—Subbing on two forwards: Camoranesi and Di Natale.
Croatia responded by bringing on Niko Kovač and Vejić, strengthening the defense.
With the substitutions complete, the match resumed.
But from that point on—the stadium was filled with only Croatian voices.
Italian fans sat in frustration and disappointment.
The contrast between the two sides couldn't have been more clear.
Croatian supporters were euphoric,Cheering at every moment.
Even though Croatia was now in a defensive posture,Every successful clearance or interception was met with a wave of celebration.
85th minute.
Less than 10 minutes to go.
Kraushević shouted from the commentary booth:
"Hold the line! Stay sharp! Don't give Italy any more chances!"
"Boys—bring home this win!And turn a new page in our history!"
Stoppage time.
Both sides made their final substitutions.
Šuker was subbed off.
As the match wound down, the entire Croatian crowd chanted in unison:
"DEFENSE!"
Forget attacking.Forget scoring.
All they wanted now was to hold the lead.
Hold the lead, and they would make history.
"Less than a minute left!Italy has no more hope!Beautifully done, boys!"
Kraushević was yelling at full volume.
His powerful voice reached every corner of Croatia through the broadcast—Setting off waves of cheering from the public.
Zagreb, Croatia – Tito Square
Tens of thousands of people crowded into the square.
Despite the huge crowd, the atmosphere was dead silent.
Everyone stared at the giant screen as the final seconds ticked down.
Even with a two-goal lead, the tension was unbearable.
No one dared to celebrate until they heard the whistle.
All eyes were on the clock.
Seconds passed.
The referee glanced at his watch again and again.
"Blow the whistle already!"
"Come on, dammit!"
"Time's up!"
"Stupid ref!"
Croatian fans cursed in anxiety.
But then—The camera zoomed in on the referee.
Three piercing blasts:
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!!
FULL TIME!
90 minutes were up!
Croatia defeats Italy 2–0 in the quarterfinals of Euro 2008!
BOOOOOOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!——
Tito Square erupted.
Beer flew through the air.Men and women hugged and screamed.
Cheers, screams, applause, and chants echoed across Zagreb's skies.
A moment of glory!A moment of history!
After 12 long years of silence,Croatia had finally taken a step further on the European stage.
They had broken through the quarterfinal curse,And for the first time in history—they were in the Euro semifinals.
"Long live Croatia!!"
"Long live Šuker!!"
"Semifinals—here we come!!"
"My God, what a match!"
"Hahaha! We beat Italy!"
"Forward! Croatia!"
"Well done, boys!"
"They are warriors—no, they're Eastern European knights!"
The square was on fire.
Fans jumped and shouted with joy.
Some even climbed up onto the statue of artist Meštrović, waving flags.
Yes—Even if it was only the Euro semifinals…
Croatia wasn't Italy.Croatia wasn't Argentina.Croatia wasn't Brazil.
They didn't have that kind of glorious football history.
And that's why—every breakthrough was incredibly precious.