Croatia, National Team Training Center
As the current head coach of the Croatian national team, Slaven Bilić was intently rewatching the footage from the first round of the European Championship qualifiers—Russia vs. Croatia.
Although Croatia ultimately managed a last-minute equalizer in that match, the overall tactical setup and in-ga decisions had many flaws.
Most notably, the second-half substitutions had backfired; Bilić had fallen right into Guus Hiddink's trap and had nearly lost the match.
Even though Croatia had a clear advantage in player quality, Bilić had failed to field the most effective lineup—a critical misstep.
"A foolish general burdens his troops!"
The pressure on Bilić was imnse.
He had risen from the U21 squad to manage the senior national team, clearly driven by ambition and vision.
But at the mont, his coaching skills didn't match his aspirations.
He needed to keep learning, correcting mistakes, and gaining experience.
At the very least, he couldn't repeat the errors from the previous match.
Croatia had a strong squad.
Especially with the inclusion of players like Šuker and Luka Modrić, the team's strength was undeniable.
But the issue was that Bilić, as the head coach, had not yet found a way to unlock that potential.
And that was a serious problem.
The next round of the European qualifiers was approaching fast.
The match against Andorra would be straightforward—a routine win.
But the key clash against England, especially with Croatia playing at ho, would require far more strategic depth.
He needed advice—expert advice.
And who knew these young players better than anyone else? The answer was obvious.
Bilić imdiately picked up the phone and made a call.
The line connected quickly.
"Hey man! Sounds like you've hit a wall," ca the voice of Davor Šuker.
Bilić rubbed his temples. "I do need so guidance. Could you help get in touch with Bešić?"
Bešić, the manager of Dinamo Zagreb, was undoubtedly the coach who understood players like Šuker best.
"Bešić and I aren't on the best terms right now," Šuker admitted. "But for you, I'll reach out."
"Thanks a lot, Davor!"
Bilić hung up the phone.
Five minutes later, Šuker called back.
"That petty bastard. His brain's full of crap. Forget him—I'll help you myself, or find soone more useful."
Bilić frowned. "So he refused?"
"Not quite," Šuker sighed. "Hold on."
A while later, Bilić received a text:
"Bešić will call you in five minutes."
Sure enough, Bešić was punctual.
"Hello, Mr. Bilić," he greeted politely.
Though they had t a few tis before, they weren't close. That's why a referral from Šuker had been necessary.
Back in their playing days, Bešić had been a benchwarr for Dinamo Zagreb, while Bilić played for Hajduk Split.
"Just call Bilić. I'd like to talk in person—when are you free?"
After a short pause, Bešić replied, "After this weekend's league match. Let's et in the evening."
"I'll make the arrangents," Bilić said, finally relieved.
September 17th, Bilić arrived early at Maksimir Stadium.
Even though their eting was scheduled for later, he wanted to watch Rakitić and others in action for Dinamo Zagreb.
The match was Dinamo Zagreb vs. Hajduk Split.
Rakitić, Subašić, and Ćorluka all perford well.
But one player particularly caught Bilić's eye—
Hajduk's number 19.
Flipping through the player handbook, he found the na: Ivan Perišić.
Though young, he was impressive.
The match ended after 90 minutes, with Dinamo Zagreb winning 2–1, thanks to a header from Jelavić.
Later that evening, in a private room at a cozy pub near Zagreb's Presidential Square, Bilić and Bešić finally t face to face.
"Nice place," Bešić comnted, admiring the decor.
Bilić smiled. "We used to drink here often."
"While still playing?" Bešić chuckled.
"Back then, the rules weren't so strict."
They both laughed and ordered black beer.
After a few sips, Bilić got serious.
"I'm here to learn."
He humbled himself, hoping Bešić would open up fully.
Bešić returned the sincerity. "We're all Croatians. Football is all we've got—it deserves our best."
He added, with visible pride: "Šuker, Modrić, Mandžukić, Rakitić—I coached them all. Ask anything."
Seeing Bešić's openness, Bilić relaxed.
"In the match against Russia, I felt sothing was off in my tactical choices. Do you agree?"
Bešić paused. "From the beginning, Croatia's ga has favored defensive strength over offensive firepower. So most coaches fall back on defensive formations and counterattacks."
"Barić did it. So did Kranjčar Sr. It's beco our default style."
Bilić nodded—that was exactly why he had chosen a defensive system.
But then Bešić's tone shifted.
"Tis are changing. Tactics are evolving. Today's Croatia isn't what it used to be. With new talent, cos the need for new tactics."
"Back then, we had weak forwards and diocre midfielders—so we relied on counterattacks."
"But now? We've got Šuker, Mandžukić up front. Modrić, Rakitić, Vukojević in midfield. We don't need to stick to the old ways!"
Bešić's ssage was crystal clear:
"These players never played a static, slow ga at Dinamo. If you want to build your national team with them, you need to rebuild your tactics too. I believe you've got the courage."
Bilić was deep in thought.
He had considered switching to fluid movent, pressing, and midfield control.
But he had grown up playing structured positional football. Changing styles was uncomfortable.
Not just a question of confidence—but of know-how.
Suddenly, he blurted out:
"Bešić—join the national team as my assistant coach!"
Pfft!Bešić nearly sprayed his beer.
Bilić's idea was just too bold—it startled him.
"Sorry! Sorry!" Bešić apologized, wiping the table awkwardly. "I'm not really interested in assistant roles for the national team."
Sigh...Bilić looked disappointed.
But then Bešić added, "I can suggest soone else!"
"Oh?"
"A coach with real ideas about attacking play and pressing. He's currently unemployed. He might be just what you need."
"Who?"
"Van stoyak. He coached Šuker and Modrić at Zrinjski Mostar. Brilliant with dynamic movent and high pressing. He got sacked last season, but he's still sharp. I was going to bring him to Dinamo's staff—but he might be better for you."
Bilić nodded.
Bešić thought for a mont, then offered one more idea:
"And another suggestion—call up Dujmović."
"Tomislav?" Bilić frowned.
Was Dujmović really national team material?
Bešić smiled. "He's a unique player. Quiet for 90 minutes—but then he'll shock you with brilliance in one key mont!"
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