The Magic of the Underdogs – World Cup Cinderella Stories Since 1986

The Magic of the Underdogs – World Cup Cinderella Stories Since 1986

Every World Cup gives us giants. Brazil, Germany, Argentina, Italy and France arrive carrying history, expectations and a cabinet full of trophies.

But every four years, another story quietly unfolds.

A team nobody expected.
A nation with a fraction of the population.
A squad with little history but enormous belief.

Those are the teams I remember the most.

1986 – Belgium surprises the world

Belgium squeezed into the knockout stage and stunned the mighty Soviet Union in a classic before eventually finishing fourth. It was the first reminder that belief can outrun reputation.

1990 – Cameroon changes African football forever

Roger Milla, at 38 years old, danced at corner flags and carried Cameroon to the quarterfinals after defeating defending champions Argentina. Africa was no longer just participating—it was competing.

1994 – Bulgaria's unbelievable summer

Led by Hristo Stoichkov, Bulgaria defeated Germany and reached the semifinals. For a nation of barely eight million, it remains one of football's greatest fairy tales.

1998 – Croatia's unforgettable debut

Playing in their first World Cup as an independent nation, Croatia demolished Germany 3-0 and finished third. Quite an introduction to the football world.

2002 – South Korea and Turkey rewrite history

South Korea rode the energy of an entire nation into the semifinals, while Turkey quietly claimed third place. Meanwhile, defending champions France went home without scoring a goal. Football has a wicked sense of humor.

2006 – Ukraine announces itself

In their very first World Cup appearance, Ukraine reached the quarterfinals behind the brilliance of Andriy Shevchenko.

2010 – Ghana comes within inches

Africa stood one penalty kick away from its first semifinalist before Luis Suárez's infamous handball, a missed penalty and heartbreak denied Ghana a place in history.

2014 – Costa Rica conquers the Group of Death

Drawn alongside England, Italy and Uruguay, Costa Rica not only survived—they topped the group and reached the quarterfinals, proving that football doesn't always read the script.

2018 – Croatia's dream run

Croatia defeated Denmark, Russia and England to reach the World Cup Final. They fell to France, but earned the admiration of the football world.

2022 – Morocco makes history

Morocco defeated Belgium, Spain and Portugal to become the first African nation ever to reach a World Cup semifinal. They united an entire continent and inspired millions across the globe.

2026 – Cape Verde captures the world's imagination

Every World Cup needs a team that reminds us why we fell in love with football. This year, that team is Cape Verde.

A tiny island nation of barely 600,000 people arrived with little expectation. Most assumed they would enjoy the occasion, exchange jerseys with the stars and quietly head home.

Instead, they became everyone's second favorite team.

They played fearless football, attacked without fear, defended with heart and refused to believe that history alone decides football matches.

Their journey ended in a thrilling 3-2 defeat to defending champions Argentina, but the scoreline tells only half the story. For long stretches, Cape Verde looked every bit the equal of one of the greatest football nations on earth.

They didn't leave with the trophy.

They left with something equally precious—the respect of the football world.

For me, Cape Verde are the Cinderella story of the 2026 World Cup. Not because they lifted the trophy, but because they reminded us that football isn't reserved for the richest leagues or the biggest countries.

Sometimes it's about a tiny nation daring to dream... and making millions of us dream along with them.

That's why I love the World Cup.

Every four years, another Cinderella puts on her boots, walks onto the biggest stage in football, and reminds the giants that this beautiful game belongs to everyone. 

In Search of Cricket's Lost Voice

 There was a time when Cricket commentary was an art.

It wasn't about who could shout the loudest, crack the most jokes, remind us every thirty seconds that they knew someone in the dressing room, or make themselves the stars of the show. It was about helping us appreciate greatness.

I grew up listening to Australia's legendary Channel 9 commentary team. Richie Benaud, Tony Greig, Ian Chappell, Bill Lawry, and later Geoffrey Boycott, David Gower and others didn't simply describe cricket—they elevated it. They respected the game, respected the audience, and most importantly, knew when to speak and when to remain silent.

The finest example for me will always be Kapil Dev's famous assault against Eddie Hemmings at Lord's in 1990, when India needed 24 runs to avoid the follow-on. Kapil simply decided to get them all in four balls.

Richie Benaud's commentary that afternoon was poetry in motion. He didn't compete with Kapil for attention. He didn't scream into the microphone. He didn't manufacture excitement. He let the bat do the talking and simply complemented the moment with a handful of perfectly chosen words. The commentator became part of history without trying to become the story.

If you've never watched it—or if it's been a while—do yourself a favor. Spend five minutes watching it and, more importantly, listening to Richie Benaud. It remains a masterclass in sports commentary. Gavaskar was with Richie when this happened and one would have thought Sunny could have picked a hint or two from Richie.

🎥 Kapil Dev's Four Consecutive Sixes at Lord's (1990)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gfbm3NIX1-Y

After Kapil deposited the fourth ball into the crowd, Benaud calmly remarked:

"I suppose it's only logical. If you need 24 to save the follow-on, why wouldn't you get it in four hits?"

One sentence.

No shouting.

No screaming.

No "Look at me!"

Just pure class.

Gavaskar was with Richie at the commentary box and one would have thought Sunny could have picked a hint or two from Richie from when to be silent and let the moment shine.

Sadly, somewhere along the way, the commentary box forgot its purpose.

As India's commercial influence over cricket grew, it also took control of the commentary room. Somewhere during that journey, the focus shifted from explaining cricket to promoting personalities. Every match slowly became "us versus them." Objectivity quietly packed its bags and left the stadium. Commentators gotta play neutral. Period!

The game deserved analysts.

Instead, we got cheerleaders.

The lowest point for me came when Sunil Gavaskar repeatedly called Rishabh Pant "stupid, stupid and stupid" on live television.

Criticism is part of sport. Every player deserves to be questioned. But there is a world of difference between analysis and humiliation. Great commentators explain why a decision was wrong. They don't reduce a player to a schoolboy insult.

Ravis Shastry did start well, but somewhere along the way some one told him to be scream like a cat that was stamped and use works like, " Timber" for clean bowled and "thats half a dozen for a six hit". It  sounds real childish.

Harsha Bogle, i will let you all decide! He is all about himself and his appeareance he has started waering a pathetic wig to look better on TV!

Then came regional commentary.

Tamil commentary somehow discovered that discussing cricket was optional.

Between endless movie references, comedy routines, celebrity gossip, mimicry, political jokes and shouting contests, the actual cricket often became background noise. Every over started sounding less like a sporting event and more like a morning FM radio show that accidentally wandered into a cricket stadium.

Nothing captured this decline better than watching RJ Balaji sitting alongside Kapil Dev.

At one point, Kapil himself appeared to plead with the panel:

"Can we focus on cricket?"

Imagine that.

One of the greatest all-rounders the game has ever produced had to remind a commentary panel that their job was... to talk about cricket.

If Kapil Dev has to ask for cricket to be discussed during a cricket match, we've officially lost the plot.

My own relationship with cricket had already suffered years earlier during the match-fixing scandal.

That episode broke something in me.

Cricket had been my first sporting love. I trusted it. When that trust disappeared, so did a part of my passion.

Friends often encouraged me to give cricket another chance. They reminded me how often I used to call it:

"Cricket... lovely cricket."

So I tried.

I switched on a few matches.

Within minutes, the commentators themselves convinced me that this game was no longer meant for me.

I then thought, "Fine. I'll simply mute the television."

That worked...

...until the cameras kept cutting away to the now-familiar collection of ICC officials sitting in expensive suits in the VIP box.

Even on mute, they somehow managed to remind me why I had walked away.

That was the moment I said,

"Enough is enough. I'm done."

Don't get me wrong.

I still love sports.

Today my weekends belong to the NFL, and right now I am thoroughly enjoying the FIFA World Cup. Football commentators, for the most part, still understand something cricket seems to have forgotten—they are there to serve the game, not themselves.

The players remain the stars.

The match remains the story.

The microphone is simply a guide.

My only hope is that I never have to watch these cricket-style commentary panels—or the parade of self-important administrators—finding their way into a FIFA World Cup final.

If that day ever comes, I may lose another sport I love.

Cricket gave me some of the happiest memories of my childhood. It introduced me to heroes, unforgettable summers, friendships, transistor radios, black-and-white televisions, and voices that became family members every winter.

Every now and then, I go back and listen to Richie Benaud.

Within a few minutes, I'm reminded of what sports commentary once was.

Elegant.

Intelligent.

Humble.

Timeless.

And then I realize...

I don't miss cricket as much as I miss the way cricket used to be.

Oh, Cricket... Lovely Cricket.

How I miss you.

 

FIFA, Please Hire the NFL Celebration Dept!

One thing has become painfully obvious while watching this World Cup.

Soccer players are phenomenal athletes. They can dribble through five defenders, curl a ball into the top corner from 25 yards, and sprint for 90 minutes without looking like they need oxygen.

Then they score...

...and they all seem to have attended the same celebration school.

Run to the corner flag.
Knee slide.
Group hug.
Point at the sky.
Repeat.

Ladies and gentlemen, can someone please invite the NFL's Celebration Committee to the next FIFA Congress?

Imagine Matthew Stafford walking into the dressing room.

"Alright boys, today's lesson is called How to Make the Crowd Forget the Goal and Remember the Celebration."

Davante Adams immediately volunteers.

"First, after scoring, you don't stop at the corner flag. You find your teammates, your coach, the mascot, three photographers, and maybe even a hot dog vendor. Everybody is part of the celebration."

Lamar Jackson would introduce the Griddy.

Justin Jefferson would insist that every goal deserves a dance routine.

CeeDee Lamb would demonstrate how to jump into the first row without spilling anyone's nachos.

A.J. Brown would bring out an imaginary chair and start reading a children's book after scoring.

Meanwhile, Cristiano Ronaldo quietly walks into the room...

Everyone stops.

"No, gentlemen," he says.

"Before you learn the NFL moves, you must first master... SIUUUUUU!"

The entire class spends the next thirty minutes practicing the perfect leap, the mid-air twist, and the dramatic landing with arms stretched wide.

Erling Haaland tries it.

Almost brings down the goalpost.

Kylian Mbappé says, "Not bad."

Lionel Messi smiles politely and says, "I'll stick to letting my left foot do the talking."

The NFL players nod respectfully.

"You know what? That one works."

But Davante Adams can't resist.

"Now let's add a touchdown dance after the SIUU."

Now things get interesting.

Mbappé does the Griddy.

Haaland celebrates like he's just won the Super Bowl MVP.

Messi pretends to throw a challenge flag at VAR.

Jude Bellingham performs Ronaldo's SIUU, then joins Justin Jefferson for a synchronized dance.

The stadium erupts.

Broadcasters forget to commentate because they're laughing too hard.

The cameras stay on the celebration longer than the replay.

Somewhere inside FIFA headquarters...

An emergency meeting is called.

Agenda:

1. Excessive happiness.
2. Too much dancing.
3. Why are NFL players involved?
4. Should the corner flag receive emotional support?

Within minutes a new rule is announced:

"Celebrations exceeding 20 seconds must be approved by VAR."

Matthew Stafford raises his hand.

"Can we challenge that rule?"

Davante Adams starts dancing anyway.

Cristiano Ronaldo responds with one final...

SIUUUUUU!

The crowd joins in.

Even the referee smiles.

Okay... maybe not the referee.

But let's be honest.

A little bit of NFL swagger mixed with Ronaldo's SIUU, Messi's calm brilliance, Mbappé's speed, Haaland's power, and Jude Bellingham's confidence would make every goal feel like a once-in-a-lifetime event.

Until then...

We'll keep watching another goal...
another knee slide...
another group hug...

...while NFL fans wonder why nobody has broken into the Griddy yet.

PS:

Still not convinced? Spend five minutes watching this compilation of NFL touchdown celebrations and then watch a soccer player do his 437th knee slide. You'll immediately understand what inspired this article. 😄🏈⚽

🎥 Best NFL Touchdown Celebrations You'll Never Forget:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m7AVvnWywvc