Ex-Tottenham star Luka Modric deserved so much more than agonising Euro 2024 sucker punch

It is a haunting and haunted stare, numb beyond words and yet wincingly tender. It is the broken gaze of an intergalactic prisoner of war, returning to the smouldering husk of his home planet after a laser beam odyssey, the traumatised expression of a game show contestant holding a novelty oversized cheque after watching the rest of their family tumble into the bowels of an active volcano. It is the dreadful gawk of a man bidding farewell to the thing he loves the most in the cruellest manner imaginable.

In fairness to whichever UEFA-endorsed pencil pusher it is that makes these decisions, Luka Modric very probably was the Player of the Match in Croatia’s agonising 1-1 draw with Italy on Monday night; nobody else did much of note, and the wiry sorcerer caught the eye in customary fashion. But the subsequent presentation of his award - bloodshot eyes and sunken cheeks reflecting off the glint of an unwanted silver memento, a souvenir to heartache - felt almost dystopian in its callousness.

For the longest while, it had seemed as if Modric - as is his habit - was dragging Croatia by the scruff of their checkerboard collar through the gnashing jaws of a mild impossibility. It was his bundled finish that gave his side the lead in Leipzig, made all the more profound by the botched penalty he failed to convert not a minute prior. In celebration, the midfielder fell to the turf and sobbed with relief. Crying is a horseshoe, not a linear spectrum.

From that moment onwards, nerves jangled like bone wind chimes. Croatia defended valiantly, picked up more than one booking laced with the metallic tang of cynicism. In the 81st minute, Modric - all creaking joints and furrowed brow - was hooked in favour of Lovro Majer. After that, the camera cut to him intermittently; visibly counting down the clock, grimace etched across sagging skin, chewing anxiously on the hem of his shirt like a scared child.

And then, the sucker punch. As the minutes gave way to seconds and the seconds gave way to fumes, Riccardo Calafiori strode forth from the back, poked a pass out to the left flank, and Italian substitute Mattia Zaccagni caressed his effort beyond the stricken grasp of Dominik Livakovic. People often talk with hyperbole about the last kick of the game; this was, quite literally, the last kick of the game. It may also have been the final act of Modric’s tenure as a fixture of major international tournaments.

In one fell swoop, Croatia went from a guaranteed place in the knockout stages of Euro 2024 to hanging by a fraying thread in need of a minor miracle. They are not doomed just yet, but their fate is not in their own hands either.

Now 38, and with his legs not quite what they once were, Modric himself has been somewhat ambiguous about his future with the national team. ‘I’d like to keep playing forever but there probably will come a time when I have to hang up my boots,’ he said in the aftermath of Monday’s tragic unravelling. ‘I’ll keep playing on but I don’t know for how much longer.’

When asked if this could be his final appearance for Croatia, Modric replied: ‘We’ll see, it’s not for those stories now.’

Certainly, even if he does decide to linger a little longer, it is difficult to envisage him persisting through to the World Cup in 2026. By then, he would be a sinewy veteran of twoscore, shuttling around dicey engine rooms with players half his age and twice as sprightly.

But, conversely, if this is the last we see of Modric on the grandest stage of them all, what a shame it would be. An unassuming talisman who has brought about a golden age of Croatian football, who led his nation into a World Cup final and finally broke the Messi/Ronaldo Ballon d’Or duopoly, reduced to a tear-sodden shell, a spent emotional force clutching some daft little trophy that he definitely didn’t want and very probably binned as soon as he got back to the dressing room. Luka, in all his majesty, deserved better than this.