Unseen Russia: ‘Closed Cities’ through the prism of football at World Cup
Photographer Sergey Novikov narrates to Sriram Veera his experience of travelling through the hinterland of the country with his lens capturing the connect with football in ‘Closed Cities’
Russia has used the world cup in ways that some other host countries have done in the past. Novokov says the government raised the taxes at the start of the world cup. “Then they increased the pension age. Both obviously hit the people hard. But any protest meetings are banned during the tournament. The euphoria over the world cup, and the genuine happiness that people have felt by their football team and the presence of world at their home has been used to political gains.” It’s to the memories of his visit to hinterland that we return. In North West Russia, at Karelia, the people built a wooden fence – that looks like a fortress of middle-ages of Russia. “I was amazed. It’s their way of retaining touch with the past.” Or the time at far east Russia, in places like Vladivostok, people live with the risk of radiation. There are electric plants from last century which have created problems to people at some places. “People just live there. They play football, and don’t care about their health. They are the ones who giving power to the rest of the country. They have nowhere to go, this is the reality for them. It was something to see them resigned to the situation, and happily playing football in the weekends, their real source of joy.”
A football pitch with the River Kama, a tributary of the Volga in the background in Rybnaya Sloboda near the city of Kazan. (Sergey Novikov)
The amateur football local leagues are the real engine of football in the country, Novakov feels. In these regions, more than the big urban clubs like Dinamo or Spartak, it’s the local teams that are still associated with the old-Soviet era work-based identities that trigger loyalty. “Teams like Metallurg (metal maker) or Gornyak (miner) which are linked to the industrialisation of this vast country. No entry tickets, no television coverage – these clubs thrive on the old idea that workers’ leisure lives should be connected with weekend sports.”
Rise of groundhoppers
In his travels, Novokov noted the rise of “Groundhoppers” – people, often from urban areas, who go without a reason to watch a game in countryside, almost as part of tourism. “They even publish magazines. Even in Europe, I hear about these groundhoppers and it’s a concept that is fast catching up in Russia. Again, football is bridging people across class and in its own way, narrowing the rural-urban divide.”
Novikov also observed the role of church in the communities. Not just the visual imagery of churches in the vicinity of grounds, but also in graffiti. In one place, he saw a sign sprawled across the boundary wall: ‘Holy Russia keeps orthodox beliefs.’
Photographer Sergey Novikov
“For some reason, a year later after I had clicked the photo, I heard that signage was erased by the monastery. An Argentine magazine had published the picture, and I wrote to the club. They were so proud and called it their ‘biggest achievement of the club’. Next day, they apparently celebrated the event, and scribbled back the sign.”
Despite the romanticising of the local amateur leagues, as witnessed by the groundhoppers, the truth is that the big money still follows the urban football culture. “The goal of my Grassroots project is to explore the lower amateur league of working class, and its harmonius influence on the local community.”
It’s been quite a ride for football in Russia: from its fascinating origins in late 1880’s when Charnock brothers from England -Clem, Harry, and James who moved to Russia to set up cotton mills – first introduced football in Moscow when Clem kicked a ball into a group of workers who fled thinking it was a bomb. A century later, as Novikov has recorded it for posterity, football is the prime leisure and community-building activity in provincial and rural Russia.
FIFA fines in World Cup 2018 cases can leave priority questioned
Sweden was slugged 70,000 Swiss francs ($70,700) for players wearing non-approved socks. Yet a Russia fan’s neo-Nazi banner and a Serbian World War Two-era nationalist symbol waved inside venue drew only 10,000 Swiss francs ($10,100) fine at World Cup 2018
The World Cup 2018 rulings in FIFA’s disciplinary court have not always been easy to comprehend.
Sweden was slugged 70,000 Swiss francs ($70,700) for players wearing non-approved socks, and Croatia was hit with the same monetary penalty when a player took a non-sponsor’s drink onto the field.
Yet a Russia fan’s neo-Nazi banner and a Serbian World War Two-era nationalist symbol waved inside venue drew only 10,000 Swiss francs ($10,100) fines, paid by their national football bodies which are responsible for fan misconduct at games.
Commercial rules can seem to be enforced more strictly than bad behaviour, and Argentine great Diego Maradona appears to enjoy a unique code of conduct of his own.
Maradona’s hysterics
Maradona, a paid FIFA ambassador, uses Facebook to explain away allegations of racism and offensive behaviour from VIP seats, charges that have previously led football’s world governing body to ban players.
At times, the priorities and consistency in FIFA decisions can look a curious form of World Cup justice. Even before the World Cup, FIFA was criticized by the anti-discrimination group Kick It Out for prioritizing commercial gain over eliminating racism from the sport.
But sports law expert James Kitching says FIFA’s approach makes some sense, because the World Cup depends on sponsors and broadcasters paying for exclusive deals.
“A financial sanction is always heavy in a commercial case because exclusivity is something Coca-Cola or Adidas pays millions of dollars for,” Kitching, the former head of sports legal affairs at the Asian Football Confederation, told The Associated Press.
The $70,000 fines imposed on Sweden and Croatia followed repeated warnings from FIFA. “It’s a sensible solution,” Kitching said of the heavy fines. “If they are not seen to protect it (sponsor exclusivity), they put everything at risk.”
FIFA reacted strongest to ambush marketing at the 2010 World Cup against a European brewery challenging Budweiser’s exclusive rights.
A group of women sat together in matching orange mini-dresses during a game at Johannesburg in the colors of the brewery. The case was dropped only with the brewery promising not to try a similar stunt at a future World Cup.
Commercial threats
Still, such cases can make FIFA seem more anxious about commercial threats to its $6 billion World Cup revenue than offensive fan behaviour.
FIFA dismissed a suggestion that 70,000 Swiss francs ($70,700) was a baseline figure for breaking commercial rules. It has so far added up to 482,000 Swiss francs ($487,000) in fines imposed by FIFA’s disciplinary committee in Russia.
A further six-figure sum must be paid by federations and players in mandatory fines for on-field conduct. Teams due to pay 15,000 Swiss francs ($15,150) for getting five yellow cards in a game, rising by 3,000 Swiss francs ($3,300) for subsequent bookings, include Argentina, Colombia and Morocco.
Argentina is set to pay the highest World Cup fine for a second straight tournament, even though it exited in the round of 16.
A 105,000 Swiss francs ($106,000) penalty was for a range of offenses by fans at a demoralizing 3-0 loss against Croatia, topped by several men being filmed punching and kicking a Croatia-shirted fan in a walkway from the grandstand.
Four years ago, Argentina officials were to blame for breaking media rules by not bringing a player to mandatory pre-match press conferences at the stadium. For defying warnings and repeating the offense at four straight games, FIFA fined Argentina 300,000 Swiss francs ($303,000).
“Media obligations are part of the game,” Kitching said. “That is what broadcast rights holders are paying for — this access.”
The money due to settle disciplinary cases is added to FIFA’s development budget totaling hundreds of millions each year.
Skeptics could point to the fines helping for the “relevant development projects” cited by FIFA last year to explain Maradona’s new ambassador duty. It brought the often-volatile Argentine back into the fold after years of public spats with previous FIFA leaders and the consequences were easily seen in Russia.
Maradona’s double middle-finger gesture celebrating a late winning goal for Argentina against Nigeria was seen globally in the official FIFA broadcast. A similar gesture by England’s Dele Alli in a World Cup qualifying game last year led FIFA to ban him for the next qualifier.
At a short and intense World Cup finals tournament, banning players has more impact.
FIFA resisted calls to ban Switzerland players Granit Xhaka and Xherdan Shaqiri in Russia. Its rules suggested mandatory two-game bans were possible for celebrating goals with hand gestures of an Albania eagle likely to provoke rival Serbia fans. Both players were fined 10,000 Swiss francs ($10,100).
Croatia defender Domagoj Vida was only warned Sunday for a social media post with comments celebrating Ukraine after helping his team eliminate Russia in the quarterfinals. Before the 2014 World Cup, FIFA banned Croatia’s Josip Simunic for 10 games for leading fans in a nationalist chant after a qualification playoff.
Apparently there’s no consistency, although Kitching suggests: “There has been a shift perhaps on how (FIFA) have treated such cases.”
What the World Cup football field can teach us about the idea of ‘nation’
Generally, people in India — or at least in the Republic of the National Capital Region (NCR) — don’t believe everything they read in newspapers, or what they watch on television.
They, thankfully, take this whole business of nationalism with a fistful of salt. The other day, when I went to watch Incredibles 2 at a Noida cinema, some people stood up, most people didn’t, when the national anthem — of India, to make it clear, since the World Cup is still on — was playing.
Fondness, loyalty and love — not in any particular order — for a particular people or territory is understandable. We also are quite fond and loyal of, and love, Santa Claus, various deities and Sherlock Holmes. But the nation, beyond friends and families, and actual locations that we are fond of, goes into that imaginative stretch that requires, well, imagination. Which is what nationalism —love and all that for one’s country the passport one holds — is really about.
Nationality on the Ball
But, if not in ordinary life yet for most of us, at least in the world footballing field, nationalism and the idea of nation itself, and ‘belonging’ to it, has taken on a slippery, malleable feel. In contemporary terms, smart people would call it ‘fluidity’. The opposite of what many folks here would suddenly stand up in a dark room playing a movie for. Or what aDonald Trump would like to get a Qin dynasty-inspired wall built for.
Take the facts — which I know is hardly central to any argument these days, but still. The National Geographic magazine conducted an interesting study earlier this month, ‘See Which World Cup Teams Have the Most Foreign-Born Players’ (goo.gl/acipwk). For a tournament that, in this era of clubs, takes nations seriously, 97 foreign-born players competed for the 32 countries that qualified for the 2018 World Cup.
For most Indians, this really isn’t situp-worthy. For one, it’s ‘foreign’, and what they do there is almost always ‘strange’, and ‘foreign’. Also, the fact that Indian sports is yet to understand the qualitative power of trans-nationalism — the appeal of ‘Go Indiaaa!’, ‘Saachin, Sach-in!’ and ‘Chak de India!’ still very much overwhelming every other possibility — makes the fact of the nation being just one collective group, and not the finest, hard to grasp.
So, as the National Geographic data shows, Morocco happens to have 13 French nationals who switched their nationalities to play for the country. Senegal follows the trend with 12 ‘French’ players, Tunisia seven. Yes, these are colonial legacies. An equivalent would be a bunch of Indians who moved to England — since Britain magically breaks itself up into separate nation states that don’t include Gareth Bale’s Wales, or Scotland and Northern Ireland, during the World Cup — or to the US, and their progeny coming ‘back’ to play for India. If India’s footballing prowess was worth coming ‘back’ to.
What makes the French example doubly interesting is that not only is it the biggest ‘exporter’ of World Cup footballers, but with 12 of its 23 World Cup squads from nine countries in Africa (remember, if you choose to, Zinedine Zidane had Algerian ancestry, while Thierry Henry from the French West Indies), France is also the biggest ‘importer’.
Then take Brazilians not playing for Brazil: Pepe (Portugal), Diego Costa (Spain) and Deco (Portugal). Opportunities make for nationalities like farmers find fields. Somewhere down the line, many people may have forgotten that. And what remains is an ossified, hardcore belief in ‘belonging’ to a nation.
Indyeah and Indiyen
Now, imagine India as a normal World Cup-playing country, where its national squad is less confined to its players’ ancestry. Where the strings of attachment are less banal — a Chinese with Kolkata ancestry in Canada good enough to be roped in to play for India. Or an English player from Birmingham with a Patel surname — or the slightest of gossamer that requires to be ‘nationish’ — signed up to get the India marquee a better brand equity.
Clubs in international football have already bypassed this ‘nation’ fetish. But there is nothing that stops nations from also doing it. This line of thinking would serve well even beyond the football and sports field, considering that expertise, whether in institutions of knowledge or governance, can do without the bane of restrictive nationalism.
What matters — or should, at any rate —is to maximise one’s team, surrounding, effectively country. So, ironically, the only thing that holds back India as a nation is its obsession to be national, in the restrictive sense of the term.
It’s fine to stand up to ‘Jana Gana Mana’ in a cinema. But, ultimately, what matters is how good the movie is. If as a spectating nation we can cheer other countries, surely, we are already happily susceptible to making our idea of nation, nationhood and nationalism alittle more diluted. Which is, paradoxically, another way of saying stronger.
So, this is the free market condition of nationhood. Those old registers of belonging — political scientist Benedict Anderson’s loose definition of nation as an ‘imagined community’ via language, culture, etc — are quite creaky by any standards in this time and age where the old cliché of ‘cricket and Hindi movies’ are hardly seen as defences of nationhood any more.
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Unseen Russia: ‘Closed Cities’ through the prism of football at World Cup
Photographer Sergey Novikov narrates to Sriram Veera his experience of travelling through the hinterland of the country with his lens capturing the connect with football in ‘Closed Cities’
Russia has used the world cup in ways that some other host countries have done in the past. Novokov says the government raised the taxes at the start of the world cup. “Then they increased the pension age. Both obviously hit the people hard. But any protest meetings are banned during the tournament. The euphoria over the world cup, and the genuine happiness that people have felt by their football team and the presence of world at their home has been used to political gains.” It’s to the memories of his visit to hinterland that we return. In North West Russia, at Karelia, the people built a wooden fence – that looks like a fortress of middle-ages of Russia. “I was amazed. It’s their way of retaining touch with the past.” Or the time at far east Russia, in places like Vladivostok, people live with the risk of radiation. There are electric plants from last century which have created problems to people at some places. “People just live there. They play football, and don’t care about their health. They are the ones who giving power to the rest of the country. They have nowhere to go, this is the reality for them. It was something to see them resigned to the situation, and happily playing football in the weekends, their real source of joy.”
The amateur football local leagues are the real engine of football in the country, Novakov feels. In these regions, more than the big urban clubs like Dinamo or Spartak, it’s the local teams that are still associated with the old-Soviet era work-based identities that trigger loyalty. “Teams like Metallurg (metal maker) or Gornyak (miner) which are linked to the industrialisation of this vast country. No entry tickets, no television coverage – these clubs thrive on the old idea that workers’ leisure lives should be connected with weekend sports.”
Rise of groundhoppers
In his travels, Novokov noted the rise of “Groundhoppers” – people, often from urban areas, who go without a reason to watch a game in countryside, almost as part of tourism. “They even publish magazines. Even in Europe, I hear about these groundhoppers and it’s a concept that is fast catching up in Russia. Again, football is bridging people across class and in its own way, narrowing the rural-urban divide.”
Novikov also observed the role of church in the communities. Not just the visual imagery of churches in the vicinity of grounds, but also in graffiti. In one place, he saw a sign sprawled across the boundary wall: ‘Holy Russia keeps orthodox beliefs.’
“For some reason, a year later after I had clicked the photo, I heard that signage was erased by the monastery. An Argentine magazine had published the picture, and I wrote to the club. They were so proud and called it their ‘biggest achievement of the club’. Next day, they apparently celebrated the event, and scribbled back the sign.”
Despite the romanticising of the local amateur leagues, as witnessed by the groundhoppers, the truth is that the big money still follows the urban football culture. “The goal of my Grassroots project is to explore the lower amateur league of working class, and its harmonius influence on the local community.”
It’s been quite a ride for football in Russia: from its fascinating origins in late 1880’s when Charnock brothers from England -Clem, Harry, and James who moved to Russia to set up cotton mills – first introduced football in Moscow when Clem kicked a ball into a group of workers who fled thinking it was a bomb. A century later, as Novikov has recorded it for posterity, football is the prime leisure and community-building activity in provincial and rural Russia.
FIFA fines in World Cup 2018 cases can leave priority questioned
Sweden was slugged 70,000 Swiss francs ($70,700) for players wearing non-approved socks. Yet a Russia fan’s neo-Nazi banner and a Serbian World War Two-era nationalist symbol waved inside venue drew only 10,000 Swiss francs ($10,100) fine at World Cup 2018
The World Cup 2018 rulings in FIFA’s disciplinary court have not always been easy to comprehend.
Sweden was slugged 70,000 Swiss francs ($70,700) for players wearing non-approved socks, and Croatia was hit with the same monetary penalty when a player took a non-sponsor’s drink onto the field.
Yet a Russia fan’s neo-Nazi banner and a Serbian World War Two-era nationalist symbol waved inside venue drew only 10,000 Swiss francs ($10,100) fines, paid by their national football bodies which are responsible for fan misconduct at games.
Commercial rules can seem to be enforced more strictly than bad behaviour, and Argentine great Diego Maradona appears to enjoy a unique code of conduct of his own.
Maradona’s hysterics
Maradona, a paid FIFA ambassador, uses Facebook to explain away allegations of racism and offensive behaviour from VIP seats, charges that have previously led football’s world governing body to ban players.
At times, the priorities and consistency in FIFA decisions can look a curious form of World Cup justice. Even before the World Cup, FIFA was criticized by the anti-discrimination group Kick It Out for prioritizing commercial gain over eliminating racism from the sport.
But sports law expert James Kitching says FIFA’s approach makes some sense, because the World Cup depends on sponsors and broadcasters paying for exclusive deals.
“A financial sanction is always heavy in a commercial case because exclusivity is something Coca-Cola or Adidas pays millions of dollars for,” Kitching, the former head of sports legal affairs at the Asian Football Confederation, told The Associated Press.
The $70,000 fines imposed on Sweden and Croatia followed repeated warnings from FIFA. “It’s a sensible solution,” Kitching said of the heavy fines. “If they are not seen to protect it (sponsor exclusivity), they put everything at risk.”
FIFA reacted strongest to ambush marketing at the 2010 World Cup against a European brewery challenging Budweiser’s exclusive rights.
A group of women sat together in matching orange mini-dresses during a game at Johannesburg in the colors of the brewery. The case was dropped only with the brewery promising not to try a similar stunt at a future World Cup.
Commercial threats
Still, such cases can make FIFA seem more anxious about commercial threats to its $6 billion World Cup revenue than offensive fan behaviour.
FIFA dismissed a suggestion that 70,000 Swiss francs ($70,700) was a baseline figure for breaking commercial rules. It has so far added up to 482,000 Swiss francs ($487,000) in fines imposed by FIFA’s disciplinary committee in Russia.
A further six-figure sum must be paid by federations and players in mandatory fines for on-field conduct. Teams due to pay 15,000 Swiss francs ($15,150) for getting five yellow cards in a game, rising by 3,000 Swiss francs ($3,300) for subsequent bookings, include Argentina, Colombia and Morocco.
Argentina is set to pay the highest World Cup fine for a second straight tournament, even though it exited in the round of 16.
A 105,000 Swiss francs ($106,000) penalty was for a range of offenses by fans at a demoralizing 3-0 loss against Croatia, topped by several men being filmed punching and kicking a Croatia-shirted fan in a walkway from the grandstand.
Four years ago, Argentina officials were to blame for breaking media rules by not bringing a player to mandatory pre-match press conferences at the stadium. For defying warnings and repeating the offense at four straight games, FIFA fined Argentina 300,000 Swiss francs ($303,000).
“Media obligations are part of the game,” Kitching said. “That is what broadcast rights holders are paying for — this access.”
The money due to settle disciplinary cases is added to FIFA’s development budget totaling hundreds of millions each year.
Skeptics could point to the fines helping for the “relevant development projects” cited by FIFA last year to explain Maradona’s new ambassador duty. It brought the often-volatile Argentine back into the fold after years of public spats with previous FIFA leaders and the consequences were easily seen in Russia.
Maradona’s double middle-finger gesture celebrating a late winning goal for Argentina against Nigeria was seen globally in the official FIFA broadcast. A similar gesture by England’s Dele Alli in a World Cup qualifying game last year led FIFA to ban him for the next qualifier.
At a short and intense World Cup finals tournament, banning players has more impact.
FIFA resisted calls to ban Switzerland players Granit Xhaka and Xherdan Shaqiri in Russia. Its rules suggested mandatory two-game bans were possible for celebrating goals with hand gestures of an Albania eagle likely to provoke rival Serbia fans. Both players were fined 10,000 Swiss francs ($10,100).
Croatia defender Domagoj Vida was only warned Sunday for a social media post with comments celebrating Ukraine after helping his team eliminate Russia in the quarterfinals. Before the 2014 World Cup, FIFA banned Croatia’s Josip Simunic for 10 games for leading fans in a nationalist chant after a qualification playoff.
Apparently there’s no consistency, although Kitching suggests: “There has been a shift perhaps on how (FIFA) have treated such cases.”
What the World Cup football field can teach us about the idea of ‘nation’
They, thankfully, take this whole business of nationalism with a fistful of salt. The other day, when I went to watch Incredibles 2 at a Noida cinema, some people stood up, most people didn’t, when the national anthem — of India, to make it clear, since the World Cup is still on — was playing.
Fondness, loyalty and love — not in any particular order — for a particular people or territory is understandable. We also are quite fond and loyal of, and love, Santa Claus, various deities and Sherlock Holmes. But the nation, beyond friends and families, and actual locations that we are fond of, goes into that imaginative stretch that requires, well, imagination. Which is what nationalism —love and all that for one’s country the passport one holds — is really about.
Nationality on the Ball
But, if not in ordinary life yet for most of us, at least in the world footballing field, nationalism and the idea of nation itself, and ‘belonging’ to it, has taken on a slippery, malleable feel. In contemporary terms, smart people would call it ‘fluidity’. The opposite of what many folks here would suddenly stand up in a dark room playing a movie for. Or what aDonald Trump would like to get a Qin dynasty-inspired wall built for.
Take the facts — which I know is hardly central to any argument these days, but still. The National Geographic magazine conducted an interesting study earlier this month, ‘See Which World Cup Teams Have the Most Foreign-Born Players’ (goo.gl/acipwk). For a tournament that, in this era of clubs, takes nations seriously, 97 foreign-born players competed for the 32 countries that qualified for the 2018 World Cup.
For most Indians, this really isn’t situp-worthy. For one, it’s ‘foreign’, and what they do there is almost always ‘strange’, and ‘foreign’. Also, the fact that Indian sports is yet to understand the qualitative power of trans-nationalism — the appeal of ‘Go Indiaaa!’, ‘Saachin, Sach-in!’ and ‘Chak de India!’ still very much overwhelming every other possibility — makes the fact of the nation being just one collective group, and not the finest, hard to grasp.
So, as the National Geographic data shows, Morocco happens to have 13 French nationals who switched their nationalities to play for the country. Senegal follows the trend with 12 ‘French’ players, Tunisia seven. Yes, these are colonial legacies. An equivalent would be a bunch of Indians who moved to England — since Britain magically breaks itself up into separate nation states that don’t include Gareth Bale’s Wales, or Scotland and Northern Ireland, during the World Cup — or to the US, and their progeny coming ‘back’ to play for India. If India’s footballing prowess was worth coming ‘back’ to.
What makes the French example doubly interesting is that not only is it the biggest ‘exporter’ of World Cup footballers, but with 12 of its 23 World Cup squads from nine countries in Africa (remember, if you choose to, Zinedine Zidane had Algerian ancestry, while Thierry Henry from the French West Indies), France is also the biggest ‘importer’.
Then take Brazilians not playing for Brazil: Pepe (Portugal), Diego Costa (Spain) and Deco (Portugal). Opportunities make for nationalities like farmers find fields. Somewhere down the line, many people may have forgotten that. And what remains is an ossified, hardcore belief in ‘belonging’ to a nation.
Indyeah and Indiyen
Now, imagine India as a normal World Cup-playing country, where its national squad is less confined to its players’ ancestry. Where the strings of attachment are less banal — a Chinese with Kolkata ancestry in Canada good enough to be roped in to play for India. Or an English player from Birmingham with a Patel surname — or the slightest of gossamer that requires to be ‘nationish’ — signed up to get the India marquee a better brand equity.
Clubs in international football have already bypassed this ‘nation’ fetish. But there is nothing that stops nations from also doing it. This line of thinking would serve well even beyond the football and sports field, considering that expertise, whether in institutions of knowledge or governance, can do without the bane of restrictive nationalism.
What matters — or should, at any rate —is to maximise one’s team, surrounding, effectively country. So, ironically, the only thing that holds back India as a nation is its obsession to be national, in the restrictive sense of the term.
It’s fine to stand up to ‘Jana Gana Mana’ in a cinema. But, ultimately, what matters is how good the movie is. If as a spectating nation we can cheer other countries, surely, we are already happily susceptible to making our idea of nation, nationhood and nationalism alittle more diluted. Which is, paradoxically, another way of saying stronger.
So, this is the free market condition of nationhood. Those old registers of belonging — political scientist Benedict Anderson’s loose definition of nation as an ‘imagined community’ via language, culture, etc — are quite creaky by any standards in this time and age where the old cliché of ‘cricket and Hindi movies’ are hardly seen as defences of nationhood any more.
France vs Belgium – Match Preview, Tactics, Prediction, Line Up
http://www.indianfootballnetwork.com/blog/2018/07/09/france-vs-belgium-match-preview-tactics-prediction-line-up/
England vs Croatia – Match Preview, Tactics, Prediction, Line Up
http://www.indianfootballnetwork.com/blog/2018/07/10/england-vs-croatia-match-preview-tactics-prediction-line-up/
It's not coming home!