What happens when a legendary footballer becomes more than just a player — when his influence reaches beyond the pitch and shapes an entire sporting system? Luka Modrić is not just playing the game anymore. He owns the story, bends the narrative, and controls the emotional core of Croatian football. Some call it legacy. Others? Call it quiet privatization.
When Luka Modrić titled his autobiography “Moja igra” (“My Game”), it sounded like the confident proclamation of a football legend. But in the Central Europe context — a region soaked in scandals, clientelism, and courts that never quite convict the powerful — that phrase hits differently.
Whose game, exactly? And who gets to play?
⚽ The Myth of the Eternal Midfielder
As Modrić approaches his 40th birthday — an age by which most midfielders have long since retired or faded — he remains not only active but untouchable. Still in Real Madrid memories, now playing for AC Milan. Still in the Croatian national team. Still the captain. Still a saint.
Criticizing him in Croatia is borderline heresy. Coaches, fans, commentators — all bow before the holy boots of Luka. He’s no longer a player. He’s the player. The embodiment of Croatian football itself. A demigod in white and red checkers.
🏛️ From Testimonies to Trophies
Let’s not forget: Luka Modrić was a key witness in the corruption trial against Dinamo Zagreb’s former boss Zdravko M???ć — the man who profited from Modrić’s own transfer to Tottenham.
At one point, Modrić changed his testimony, which led to public outcry and accusations of perjury (later dismissed). The result? M???ć fled to Bosnia, and Modrić? He kept lifting trophies.
Because in the B????ns, if you're a national hero, the law politely steps aside.
🧠 Privatizing the Game, Symbolically
No, Modrić doesn’t literally own football. But symbolically?
He might as well hold the deed.
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He defines the narrative.
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He eclipses younger players.
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He delays generational change.
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He blurs the line between individual brilliance and systemic stagnation.
You don’t build a team around Modrić — you build a team to serve him. Even when he's not the fastest or sharpest anymore, the system bends to make him fit.
And he knows it.
🧹 The Rest of Us? Ball Boys.
While Modrić “plays his game,” the rest of us pick up the pieces. Talented young players are shuffled around, critics are silenced by nostalgia, and institutions treat him like royalty.
In this dynamic, the Croatian public becomes something of a spectator-servant hybrid.
“Zna se. Igra je tvoja. Mi samo skupljamo lopte.”
“We know. The game is yours. We just collect the balls.”
🎭 Satirical Reality Check
Imagine a game where:
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The rules bend for one player.
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The federation dares not bench him.
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The media campaigns for his divine right to start.
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And the book is already titled “My Game” — just in case you thought it was a team sport.
That’s not just football.
That’s football feudalism.
🧵 Final Thought
Luka Modrić is a genius. An icon. A rare athlete who conquered the world. the next Modrić may never even get to play.
Because the game?
It’s already taken.
But when a system becomes so dependent on a single figure, it risks becoming static, nostalgic — even self-sabotaging. Maybe it’s time to ask: if it’s truly “his game,” when will the rest of us get to play?
“Trash sports” criticize hyper-commercialized games prioritizing profit over player well-being. In football, tragic on-field deaths highlight the dangers: cardiac arrests, heatstroke, or head injuries are often overlooked in favor of spectacle. These incidents expose the dark side of glorified athleticism (stop it!) and raise urgent questions about ethics, safety, and accountability.
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