It really is different when your country is small and nobody outside of your broader extended family understands your language.
Then: Song from Yugoslavia. “History as anthology” per reader Each Pond Gone’s apt reflection. Now: anthem-rock from the band Zaprešić Boys. There is no one vocalist. It’s team cadence.
“Igraj moja Hrvatska“ (Play, my Croatia). Eastern Europe bedazzles people who live in points-west because it shows what normal life looks like. This video shows boys and girls outside of an apartment complex twenty years ago, and then as adults in the present year, getting ready for the big game. God, who works in mysterious ways, had shielded one half of Europe with the Iron Curtain.
“U porazu i pobjedi“ (In defeat and in victory). Choral power in every verse and chorus. The video is the antidote to anyone in Eastern Europe who still wants to leave everything and go west. Fool’s gold.
“Srce Vaterno” (Fiery Heart). Sing the chorus out loud when Croatia wins the World Cup:
Bijelo-crvena polja hrvatska / The white-red Croatian colors
Na dresu sjete me da ja volim te / On the jersey remind me that I love you
Igrajte za nju, Našu voljenu / Play for her, our beloved
Nek jače kuca to srce vatreno / Beat harder, the fiery heart
And the lighter side of Balkan sounds as you get ready for the game; the young and the old, the traditional and the modern, all in one voice: Hrvatska!
Croatia plays “England” tomorrow at 2:00 PM Eastern US Time. If you are English, you’re better off cheering for your fellow Europeans because the blacks on your team by definition aren’t English, therefore your team isn’t.
As far as I can tell, every player on the Croat team is a son of Hrvatska. The match represents a contest between good and evil. To globalists, filth from Hell that they are, an uncontaminated European team burns like holy water. Where they can’t make us kill each other in a fratricidal war, they push the culture of death. Where they can’t have us self-annihilate with despair and sterility, they set up a debt-bondage economy. Where they can’t enslave us, they promote mixing. Where we stay true to our blood, they open the borders.
Athletic competition is an apex achievement of civilization because it gives human aggression a field on which honor obligates the competitors to keep it clean. All’s fair in love and war but a cheap shot in sports dishonors you. The Olympic Truce (ékécheiria, “laying down of arms”) was announced before the Games of 776 BC so that the host city is not attacked and athletes and spectators can travel safely.
Spectator sports is a communal event where your finest go up against the rival’s finest. International athletic competition represents the fraternal spirit among nations. In an honorable contest, the winner and the loser shake hands. But there is no honor in padding your team with foreign talent. That’s playing dirty, literally and figuratively. Africa’s population bubble offers a pool of one billion to augment the eleven-man squad. Reach for that ring, and you corrupt everything: who gives a damn about the game’s outcome when cheap imports fill the roster.
Croatia is a small country of 4.1 million people, up from 2.8 million in 1890. Whatever the final numbers on the scoreboard, tomorrow’s game will be the glory of Croatia because her players and fans aren’t cucked.