When Shaquille O’Neal casually unrolled the draw and read out one word — “Croatia” — he did so with a smile that suggested joy, innocence, and absolutely no awareness that he had just detonated an emotional device across Europe.
“Shaq. Don’t. Please. Not again.”
I shouted this at the television with the weary desperation of a man who has seen this particular footballing horror film far too many times — and knows exactly how it ends.
Within seconds, my phone lit up like a Christmas tree wired incorrectly.
First message, from Croatia: “These English again. We’ll get through easily.”
Second message, from England: “Can we have ONE major tournament without playing Croatia?”
The answer, as confirmed by Shaquille O’Neal, is no. No, we cannot. No, we shall not.
For reasons still unexplained by science, FIFA, astrology or basic human kindness, the footballing destinies of England and Croatia are permanently fused.
Group L: The Inevitable Reunion Nobody Asked For
And so it begins. The 2026 World Cup will open Group L with England vs Croatia — the sporting equivalent of being seated next to your ex at a wedding.
Unavoidable. Predictable. Mildly traumatic. Completely inevitable.
When I said “not again,” I meant it. History backs me up.
Since 1996, England and Croatia have met eleven times. More importantly, since 2003, they have faced each other nine times in major tournaments.
The breakdown reads like a long-running romantic tragedy:
And those three Croatian victories? Absolutely unforgettable. Not negotiable. Not forgivable.
Croatians possess a near-supernatural ability to recall football victories with perfect clarity. They may forget where they left their keys or why they walked upstairs — but they will never forget Wembley 2007. Ever.
Those moments are carved into stone, laminated, framed and lovingly re-told forever.
A Match That Divides Homes, Families and WhatsApp Groups
With a single flick of Shaq’s wrist, another diplomatic crisis has been declared.
Plans must be made. Phones must be muted. Flags discreetly hidden. Neighbours cautiously managed.
For those of us living in mixed-football households — or worse, mixed-football marriages — this match is not a sporting event. It’s a live-action psychological experiment.
The kind that ends with someone sleeping on the sofa and someone else Googling: “Can you legally disown your spouse during a World Cup?”
Let me be very clear.
The best possible outcome for domestic peace in the Thomas household is a draw.
A dull draw.
A lifeless draw.
A yawn-inducing, blood-pressure-lowering, spiritually empty draw.
A draw so boring it sends children to sleep and makes grown men stare at the grass wondering where their lives went wrong.
Because a draw means:
A draw means we can all politely say, “Well, that’s that then,” while pretending our heart rates didn’t perform acrobatics for ninety minutes.
More Than a Rivalry: Football as Shared Madness
Of course, Group L isn’t just England and Croatia. That would be far too merciful.
There’s also Ghana, who run like the wind and strike like the gods, and Panama, who may simply decide to ruin someone’s tournament out of sheer CONCACAF enthusiasm.
Croatians will happily remind England of 2007, 2018, 2020 and any other year that caused collective British suffering.
The English, meanwhile, will insist they are favourites — regardless of rankings, form, logic, history, or the ghostly presence of Luka Modrić hovering somewhere nearby.
But this rivalry isn’t built on hatred. It’s built on stories.
On drama.
On WhatsApp banter.
On “remember that time when…” followed by laughter, eye-rolling and another drink.
Having lived between these two cultures for more than two decades, I can say this with confidence: football matches between England and Croatia reveal something deeply human.
They show how intertwined we are. How sport turns adults into children and strangers into temporary enemies. How it makes us scream, sulk, celebrate, despair, drink, apologise, forgive — and then do it all again.
It’s ridiculous. Which is precisely why it’s glorious.
Despite my sarcasm, panic and borderline unhinged reaction to Shaq’s announcement, part of me smiled.
Because England vs Croatia is always special.
Unpredictable. Emotional. Maddening. Unforgettable.
See you in Group L.
I’ll be the one pretending not to care — and failing spectacularly.
About the author
Mark Thomas (aka Englez u Dubrovniku) is the editor of The Dubrovnik Times. He was born and educated in the UK and moved to live in Dubrovnik in 1998. He works across a whole range of media, from a daily radio show to TV and in print. Thomas is fluent in Croatian and this column is available in Croatia on the website – Dubrovnik Vjesnik
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