The Greatest of all Time

Chapter 648  The Feeling of Rewriting History

As the clock approached the 60th minute, Croatia fashioned another golden opportunity. Ante Rebić found space on the right and whipped in a low cross towards Mario Mandžukić, who was lurking in the box. The powerful Croatian striker controlled the ball with his back to goal, spun around Lamine Koné, and fired a shot. But Sylvain Gbohou, the Ivorian goalkeeper, was equal to the task. He dived to his left, making a crucial save that denied Croatia yet again.

Croatian coach Zlatko Dalić was livid on the sidelines. He knew his team needed a spark, a change to break through the Ivorian defense. He swiftly called for two substitutions, bringing on Marcelo Brozović for Ivan Perišić and Mateo Kovačić for Andrej Kramarić. The fresh legs were meant to inject new energy and creativity into the Croatian attack.

The game resumed with an even greater intensity from Croatia. With Brozović and Kovačić on the field, the Croatians looked more dynamic, more threatening. They whipped in crosses, played intricate passes around the box, and took shots from a distance. Each attack was met with a collective gasp from the fans, a mix of anticipation and anxiety.

The Ivorians, however, were resolute. They scrambled, slid, and blocked, doing everything possible to keep the ball out of their net. But their defensive efforts came at a cost. Wilfried Kanon and Franck Kessié, two of their key players, succumbed to injuries from the relentless exertion. Kanon pulled up with a muscle strain, and Kessié, exhausted, signaled that he couldn\'t continue.

Hervé Renard, the Ivorian coach, quickly responded. He brought on Cheick Doukouré and Jean Michaël Seri, both defensive midfielders, for the injured players. It was a clear tactical decision to bolster the defense. Renard knew they were in the final stretch and that maintaining their lead was paramount.

The game continued, and as the match clock ticked towards the 70th minute, Croatia\'s attacks grew more desperate. The Ivorians were now playing with a back three supported by three defensive midfielders, two attacking wingers, Zachary, the attacking midfielder, and even Gervinho, the striker. All the Ivorian players on the pitch had fallen back, parking the bus in their half, crowding out the passing lanes, and leaving no space for the Croatians to exploit. It was a defensive wall, a bulwark against the Croatian side.

No heart patient would have stood the pressure of the Fisht Olympic Stadium at that moment. If the World Health Organization had to set safety levels, the pressure was high above the standard, a risk to anyone watching.

Every clearance by the Ivorian defenders, every save by Gbohou, was met with roars of approval from the Ivorian fans. Time seemed to slow as the clock inched towards the 80th minute. The Croatians, sensing the urgency, threw everything forward. They sent in high balls, hoping for a knockdown or a lucky break.

And finally, in one heart-stopping moment, a long cross from Brozović found Mandžukić racing toward the far post. The striker headed the ball towards the goal, and for a split second, it seemed destined for the net. But Gbohou was there again, stretching to tip the ball away. Eric Bailly scrambled to get the ball further away. But the rebound fell to Modrić, who fired a shot through a sea of bodies, only to be blocked by Bailly, who threw himself in front of the ball again.

The minutes ticked away, each feeling like an eternity in hell for the Ivorian supporters. They chanted, sang, and willed their team to hold on. Meanwhile, on the pitch, the players were running on pure adrenaline, their legs heavy but their hearts determined. Every tackle and every interception was met with cheers as they inched closer to their dream.

As the game entered stoppage time, Croatia made one final push. Modrić sent in a corner, and the ball pinballed around the box. Gbohou punched it away, but only as far as Kovačić, who volleyed it back towards goal. The shot was deflected wide, and the referee signaled for another corner. The tension was unbearable.

The corner was whipped in, but Aurier rose highest, heading the ball clear. It fell to Zaha, who sprinted upfield, taking precious seconds off the clock. The Croatian defenders chased him down, and the ball went out for a throw-in. The referee glanced at his watch, and then moments later, he blew the final whistle.

A blaring roar erupted from the Ivorian fans. The players fell to their knees, exhausted but elated. They had done it. They had held on to their 2-1 lead and booked their place in the semi-finals of the World Cup. The Ivorian substitutes and coaches poured onto the field, their faces alight with joy. They embraced each other, their collective happiness palpable as they realized the magnitude of their achievement. Coach Hervé Renard, usually composed and tactical, was swept up in the moment. He moved from player to player, hugging them tightly, whispering congratulatory messages and words of encouragement.

Among the sea of celebrating Ivorians, Zachary stood still for a few seconds, absorbing the gravity of what they had just accomplished. The cheers from the crowd washed over him, a wave of sound and emotion that filled him with a deep sense of fulfillment. In his previous life, it had been Morocco that broke the barrier for African teams. But in this life, it was none other than Ivory Coast—a team he played for—that had made history by reaching the World Cup semi-finals first. The realization hit him hard. He had been a part of something monumental that would be remembered for generations.

His teammates surrounded him, their happiness infectious. Zachary\'s heart swelled with pride and determination. This victory was sweet, but he knew their journey wasn\'t over. His dreams were boundless, and his hunger for more success in the World Cup was insatiable. He wanted to take his team even further, to the finals, and to bring the ultimate glory to Ivory Coast.

Around him, the celebrations continued in full force. Gervinho, who had scored the equalizer, was lifted high by his teammates. Eric Bailly and Serge Aurier shared a heartfelt embrace, their contributions in defense evidently a crucial factor in their victory. Nôv(el)B\\\\jnn

Wilfried Zaha and Nicolas Pépé danced with the substitutes on the sidelines, their moves reflecting the rhythm of victory that beat in every Ivorian heart.

The fans in the stands were no less exuberant. They sang, chanted, and waved their flags with an infectious energy. Many had tears of joy streaming down their faces, overwhelmed by the pride and happiness of seeing their national team achieve such an incredible feat. The sense of unity was overwhelming; it was a moment where every Ivorian and African, whether on the pitch, in the stands, or back in their homes before their screens, felt connected by a shared dream and triumph.