Croatia shakes off its troubles to back
The scars of war and political chaos are still raw but the nation is savouring this moment
CHIEF SPORTS FEATURE WRITER in Zadar, Croatia
The Roman Forum is about the only corner of Zadar to have escaped the cruellest ravages of war. “The Dresden of the Adriatic”, this long-suffering city was dubbed, after 12 months of Allied bombardment from November 1943 all but erased it from the map.
From the Barbarian invasions to the shelling by Serb forces during the Croatian War of Independence, it has been Zadar’s misfortune to lie perpetually in the crossfire. And yet somehow, through it all, the Church of St Donatus, the largest pre-romanesque building in the country, is still standing after over 1,000 years, an imperishable monument to resilience.
Next to it, in what looks at first a jarring juxtaposition, is a giant makeshift cinema screen, where fans will gather to watch tonight’s semi-final with England, Croatia’s most significant game since their beloved “Class of 1998”, led by Davor Suker and Slaven Bilic, reached the last four in France. All Croatian supermarkets are closing shortly before kick-off in anticipation of a party like no other.
Here in Zadar, locals have greater reason than most to toast the national team, the Vatreni (literally, “those who are made of fire”). Luka Modric, Croatia’s most globallyrecognised talent, was born in a nearby hamlet and forced to flee to the city as a child, living with his family at the Hotel Iz. His grandfather, also Luka, was executed by Serb rebels in 1991. Sime Vrsaljko also traces his roots to this region, having played youth football here. So, too, does Danijel Subasic, the goalkeeper whose saves have illuminated this World Cup, and who has incurred Fifa’s wrath by wearing a T-shirt in tribute to his friend, Hrvoje Custic, killed on the pitch at his hometown club NK Zadar.
Custic died when, playing a league game against HNK Cibalia in 2008, he fell into a concrete barrier surrounding the pitch at Stadion Stanovi. It is here that I meet Mario Grgurovic, who works for Zadar’s academy, a former team-mate of Custic’s and a midfielder accomplished enough to have once been Modric’s closest childhood contemporary. “We started training together at 10 years old,” Grgurovic says. “It was difficult at first to tell he would be such a great player. When he first arrived at Dinamo Zagreb, he went on loan, to Zrinjski Mostar in Bosnia-herzegovina. Now he is at Real Madrid, he is still, to me, a modest guy; very humble. Not like Ronaldo.”
Not every testimony to Modric is so glowing. For all his disciples, he also invites hostility from sections of the Croatian population due to his uncomfortably close relationship with Zdravko Mamic, previously the executive director of Dinamo Zagreb and now a convicted felon who has escaped a 6½-year prison term for embezzlement and tax evasion by escaping to neighbouring Bosnia.
Modric was accused of “false testimony” about his £16.5million transfer from Dinamo to Tottenham, from which Mamic allegedly took a staggering £7.5million cut. The dichotomy is stark: where Modric finds himself feted by outsiders as a creative genius for Real Madrid, he is castigated in some Hajduk Split chants as a “little s---”.
This type of polarity finds echoes throughout the Croatian game. Even at this high-water mark in Russia, there is one Hajduk fan group, called Torcida, agitating on social networks against them, due to accusations of corruption at the national federation. Not that these appear to bother Suker, president of the Croatian FA and winner of the Golden Boot in 1998, who shrugged: “When the tournament starts, we’ll all be in checkers.”
It is a symbol of national recognition, the checkerboard, covering the main shield of the Croatian coat of arms. Even in the days of the former Yugoslavia, the alternate red-and-white squares formed a banner under which Croats could celebrate their identity.
Even though Croatia plan to line up in black against England this evening, to avoid a colour clash, it is the checkered shirt that Kolinda Grabar-kitarovic, the country’s president, has been wearing at the knockout matches. For the shoot-out win over Denmark in Nizhny Novgorod, she forsook her VIP box in favour of standing with the fans. Not that this picture of a head of state at one with her people is straightforward, given that her birthday party in 2015 was organised by none other than Mamic.
Igor Stimac, the former Croatia manager best known to an English audience for his years at West Ham and Derby County, expresses a sense of wonder that a nation of just 4.1 million punches so consistently above its weight, especially in light of its dysfunctional politics. “It is remarkable that a country without proper training facilities, without many modern stadiums, without any TV rights money, without any government help in fighting hooligans, and with a home league full of underpaid players, still manages to be so productive,” he says. “With the exception of the three biggest clubs, most players work for €1,000-€3,000 (£885-£2,655) a month. It’s clear evidence that the game’s only two good things here are pure talent and great coaches.” Franjo Tudjman, Croatia’s first president, famously declared: “After war, sport is the first thing you can distinguish nations by.” That much was evident in the wake of the Vatreni’s cherished “bronze medal”, their third-place finish at France ’98. Miroslav Blazevic, the coach, was lavish in his sycophancy, saying of the president: “Without him, all my