Rakitic Still Turns Away From Luzhniki: The 90 Extra Minutes Nobody Counted

"I would turn away."

Ivan Rakitic said that when asked whether he still watches the 2026 World Cup final. He did not reach for the word "pain". He did not say "regret". Croatia's midfielder simply admitted that even now, whenever the footage from Luzhniki appears, he still looks the other way — and the scar is still there.

On 15 July 2026, Croatia lost 4-2 to France at Luzhniki Stadium in Moscow. I watched from a screen in Hai Phong that night. What stayed with me was not the four goals conceded but the way Rakitic walked back to the centre circle after the final whistle: arms hanging, head down, short steps across wet grass, as if he were still carrying an entire tournament on his back.

Croatia reached that match by the longest road a national team can travel at a World Cup. Three group games, then Denmark, Russia and England — all three knockout ties dragged into extra time, two of them settled by penalty shootouts. On the other side, France went through Argentina, Uruguay and Belgium, all inside 90 minutes.

Croatia is a country of just over four million people. France has more than sixty-seven million. Croatia held around 61% of the ball in the final, took more shots, and still walked off with silver. Before kick-off, heavy rain fell over Moscow; the pitch turned slick, the ball travelled faster, and France's long passes became the perfect weapon for a side that did not need possession to win.

Mandzukic put through his own net on 18 minutes. Perisic equalised on 28. Griezmann converted a penalty on 38 after the referee consulted VAR. Pogba scored on 59, Mbappe on 65, Mandzukic pulled one back on 69. Croatia's four concessions landed exactly in the moments when a spent team leaves gaps.

Ahead of Croatia now is Spain in Nations League Group A3, with Czechia in the same group, and Slaven Bilic on the bench.

This is where I want to cut in. People retell that final with two words: bad luck. I count it differently.

I add up the minutes Croatia had to play. Three group games: 270 minutes. Denmark: 120. Russia: 120. England: 120. The final: 90. That is 720 minutes. France: 270 in the group, 90 against Argentina, 90 against Uruguay, 90 against Belgium, 90 in the final. That is 630. Croatia played exactly 90 minutes more than France — a full match — simply to reach the same starting line.

That alone was not all. Croatia also went through two penalty shootouts, the most expensive tax of all on a footballer: concentration when the legs are already gone. Rakitic and Modric were names almost never taken off. Add those minutes up and everything becomes clear: after the 60th minute in Luzhniki, Croatia's midfield still had the ball but could no longer cut out passes played straight through it. Pogba scored on 59. Mbappe on 65. That window did not open because France suddenly became better; it opened because one team ran dry at exactly the wrong time.

Numbers do not lie, but the people who can read them always know how to make everyone else believe the opposite. A whole generation of commentary read that final through possession stats and concluded Croatia were "the better team". Possession measures ownership of the ball, not the ability to turn it into goals. France shot less but shot exactly where the opposing legs had already left.

There is another layer off the pitch, and it is the one I always look at first. Croatia export players out of the Dinamo Zagreb academy the way a country exports goods. The national team is their biggest asset, and the one thing they cannot afford to wear down. Rakitic went from Basel to Schalke, to Sevilla, to Barcelona, and back to Sevilla. That return was structured in the way balance sheets always hide: no transfer fee, nobody buying out a contract, and therefore nobody having to explain it fully. Money in football has a smell, and I caught it long before anyone officially admitted it. Signing-on fees for free agents never appear on the transfer ticker as a nine-figure deal, yet they drain more from the system than people think.

At Sevilla, at the Ramon Sanchez-Pizjuan, Rakitic was once a hero. At Luzhniki, he was a man walking back to the centre circle. Those two images are two faces of the same trade: you are lifted by exactly the football that will later bring you down.

Now comes the part where I cross-examine myself, before somebody does it for me.

Blaming those 90 extra minutes as the main cause is also an easy way out. France arrived with a younger squad, a deeper defence, and a plan that scores without the ball. Kylian Mbappe was 19. If Croatia had one more rest day, would the result have changed? I am not sure. And I have to concede this too: VAR, the pitch, a controversial penalty — none of those are products of fatigue. They were there regardless of how fresh Croatia were.

But one thing I am surer about. While everyone stared at the giants, I saw the Vikings quietly smiling. Croatia are not a team of bitter failures. They are a small football nation operating so well that they force the giants to play a game the giants do not enjoy. From 2026 to 2026 they moved from one semi-final to another final on the same production line. Calling Croatia unlucky is a cheap way of forgetting that a country of four million stood in front of sixty or seventy million, more than once, and did not flinch.

And Rakitic has every right not to rewatch it. We have a habit of demanding that players "prove themselves" in their very first match back after a deep wound. Watching how the media return to him every time Croatia run out of steam, I see a cruelty that feels familiar: the crowd wants a witness, not a person. The crowd is data, and I always read it backwards. A man saying he still turns away is not asking for pity; he is reminding us that the match was real, and so was the loss.

In more than twenty years in this trade I learned one thing about teams like Croatia: they are not taught to win for fun, they are taught to win to live. The shock of football stopping in 2026 showed me the same lesson. Football stopped turning in 2026; I lost money but won a beginner's course in cash flow. Without real money, the prettiest tactics are just paper. Croatia do not have real money. They have an academy, a generation, and a schedule exactly one half of football longer than their rivals'.

The Spain match in Nations League Group A3, with Czechia in the same pool, will be the first test of whether Croatia have managed to read themselves again. My prediction: they will not be blown away, because you can only blow away a team that has lost its bearings — and Croatia always know where they stand. But if that midfield has to play 90 minutes more than the opponent in a decisive game, I will not be surprised to see a man walking back to the centre circle once more.

As for Rakitic, by the time he agrees to sit down and watch that footage, Croatian football will know it has travelled a little further down the road.