20 Thoughts on the Euro 2024 Group Stages
Your favorite chaotic sports chronicler is back (partially).
We begin this round with Albania vs. Croatia, aka the match of the gastarbeiters. Both sets of fans have nationalistic chants and behavior. Croatians are more fascist, with one fan holding up a “Za Dom Spremni” the main fascist slogan of the NDH Nazi puppet state, straight into the TV camera. The Albanians are weirder, with a flag holding up the shape of Greater Albania next to Mother Theresa’s picture.
After the “ubi Srbina” chants on the aforementioned match, the ZDS shawls by the Munchen bojna fans of Croatia, and the Serbian penchant for three-finger salutes and “Kosovo is Serbia” flags and chants, I can’t wait for all of the Balkan nations to be eliminated so that we can enjoy some soccer in peace.
The behavior of Balkan fans and the absurdity of the different Balkan federations reporting each other to UEFA becomes the defining narrative of the second and third rounds of the group stages. Not just the fans, but players and journalists get involved as well with nationalist chants and hand signs. Plenty of ink was spilled, even breaking the containment of traditional sports media and landing in The New York Times and Politico. However, the article that sticks in my craw the most is one from The Athletic, which manages to incorporate all of the cliches about writing about the Balkans, starting from the title: “Why Albania, Croatia, and Serbia Will Always Be Divided By Football.” There’s a lot to unpack in the title already, because Albania and Croatia are hardly divided by football (in fact, Albanian and Croatian ultras get a little too cozy in their anti-Serb chants, even though the average Croatian is usually prejudiced against Albanians), and while Croatian and Serb ultras hate each other now, Croats and Serbs played on the same national team just a few decades ago—hardly always divided. As always, the reality is a bit more complicated than a pithy headline, but headlines are by nature simplistic. There is no excuse for the rest of the article, which features brilliant gems such as calling the BAlkans Europe’s “powder-keg” (Otto Von Bismarck called, he wants his metaphors back), “1,000 years of conflict,” and other greatest hits cliches from the arsenal of Western writers writing about the Balkans.
Considering that the article interviews well-respected scholars on soccer and nationalism in the Balkans, such as Dario Brentin, James Montague, and Dr. Marko Milosavljevic, the fact that the introduction relies on cliches shows a certain laziness on the part of the author. One more interview on historical context or fan culture could have done the job nicely, and replaced at least some of the cliches, or the author could have simply tried to avoid shoddy writing. Instead, the insights of the scholars, who bring new interpretations to aspects of fan behavior that have been elided in short-form articles, are almost overshadowed by the hackneyed introduction.
The reason I am so angry at cliches in this case is not just because I want to defend Balkan nationalists, but because it is inaccurate reporting. Claiming that fans are shouting nationalist (and downright fascist) slogans because of “ancient ethnic hatreds” ignores the factors that lead to nationalism developing and being promoted specifically in soccer fan communities. As longtime Balkans reporter Bronwyn Jones pointed out on Twitter, Croatians and Serbians actually have a history of cooperation in other fan-based activities, such as Eurovision. Believe it or not, many of us manage to live in this region without magically hating our neighbors. Additionally, in most of these countries, we know the literal names, surnames, and even nicknames of the people who promote nationalism and instrumentalize sports to push a political agenda. Attributing it to vague things that have always been around and always will be is ahistorical and lets some very powerful people off the hook.
But enough about the Balkans and nationalism, shall we? Besides, it’s not as if we were the only teams behaving badly—look at all the cup throwing, pitch invading, and other shenanigans we’ve been treated to during these two rounds.
I always find the term “golden generation” a bit strange. It’s usually used to denote a generation that somehow underachieved compared to its potential (teams that win are just called winners). I’m unsure if Croatia can quite compare to Steven Gerrard’s England or Eden Hazard’s Belgium, since Croatia did win medals and overachieve quite a bit compared to its size, but the actual trophy or gold medal was always out of reach.
A golden generation is in a way a curse for the future generations. As one generation of preternaturally talented players holds their positions, it becomes difficult for younger players to break into the team. Even if there are talented prospects waiting in the wings, the coaches (obviously) want to play their best lineup. Then, once the golden generation starts to age out of their capabilities, there is nobody waiting in the wings.
As Luka Modric was once again made to look like a fool on a soccer pitch, it became fairly clear that’s what is happening to Croatia now.
Watching the matches on Serbian TV is interesting because I love following the emotional journey of the RTS state broadcaster commentators whenever Serbia plays. They always start off the match desperately trying to be optimistic to preserve a positive experience for the fans by trying to spin whatever is happening on the field, but slowly begin losing their minds as the game progresses. During Serbia’s game against Slovenia, the commentator literally went “wow so it looks like we are trying to defend there.” While HRT’s halftime shows tend to be blindly optimistic and refuse to criticize the Croatian players, RTS’s team is more critical.
The past few weeks on the Serbian Internet have been marked by videos of fans coming up to Piksi on the street in Germany and cursing him out. One video shows a guy after the second round game leaning over the dugout, nearly in tears, saying something unintelligible. Only thing I could make out was, “Against SLOVENIA? Really?”
The second round really showed how poorly a strategy it is to sit and defend deep on a one goal lead. Croatia did it, England did it, to some extent Slovakia did it. It is a valid strategy to choose in the 80th minute, but ridiculous earlier, or even in the first half as I’ve seen some teams try it. All of the teams that tried it got scored on later, because when you spend all of your time letting the opposing team hang out in front of your goal, chances are, the ball will eventually go in.
As the IRA story goes after the attempted Margaret Thatcher assassination, “Today we were unlucky, but remember we only have to be lucky once. You will have to be lucky always.” Somewhat fittingly, England’s defense is Margaret Thatcher in this analogy.
I am watching the Euros with my curtains drawn and it is hot. I got through last summer in this apartment without A/C but it looks like it will be hotter. I only go outside after 8 PM and it is still hot. I go outside to pay my electricity bill and the backs of my kneecaps sweat, I feel big beads running down my arms in ways I’ve never felt before.
The day of the Slovakia-Ukraine match, the power grid in Montenegro crashes, taking out power in the entire country as well as parts of Dalmatia, Bosnia, Albania, and even Greece. Greece is on fire, I’m sure places near my grandma’s home in Croatia are on fire as well. Over 1,000 people have died on the Hajj pilgrimage in Saudi Arabia. In India, bats are falling dead out of the sky and over 100 people have died.
Sorry for interrupting your scheduled programming. As I stare at a TV screen for 8 hours a day (on top of my 8 hours of work and 3 hours of uncontrolled social media usage if I’m being perfectly honest) I have to pull myself back to reality sometimes. This is reality.
Slovakia is a team of three halves at major tournaments. They play their first match really well, the first half of their second match really well, then collapse in their second match after halftime, then last year have a howler in the third match. To my pleasant surprise, they did enough against Romania to qualify—a curse of three halves no more?
After skipping a whole bunch of matches because I do have a life sometimes, I sit down and watch one half of Germany-Switzerland, with beautiful, free-flowing soccer, and the second half of Hungary-Scotland, with some of the worst I’ve ever seen in my life (Varga’s horrendous collision notwithstanding). Sometimes, all you have to do is hack at your opponents.
It is a round of heartbreaking last-minute goals, and the image of the round will probably be Luka Modric in tears with the Man of the Match trophy. People have been calling for him to retire, and perhaps he should have before this tournament as he kept getting outclassed, but the truth is that Croatia does not have anybody to replace him. He may not be as good as he was a few years ago, but against Italy, Croatia looked like flashes of their old selves (only flashes, though). It does raise an interesting question of how players should retire. Is it better to retire while you are still close to peak form, when people may criticize you for not giving it your all? Is it better to retire after your last gasp of skill has been left on the field, after people have spent years making fun of who you became (a few players come to mind here, including Joe Hart), only remembering your legend status after your retirement, when your knees are permanently damaged and you’re not even 40 yet? Rage, rage, against the dying of the light or quietly take your paycheck and leave?
I ran out of internet two days before the end of the group stage and unfortunately, could not watch Cristiano Ronaldo suffer against Georgia.
idk how I've only just seen this, but points 1-5 🙏