I wandered through the Pérez Art Museum Miami before coming here, and there was a Wilfredo Lam canvas that reminded me exactly of what Modrić does in midfield — layered, mysterious, everything connected beneath the surface. Croatia's engine room is simply too rich for Turkey to contain; Kovačić and Modrić will orchestrate this game like conductors who already know the final movement. Arda Güler has the imagination to steal a goal — and I expect he will, because genius finds a way — but Livaković in goal is the kind of goalkeeper who makes saves look like philosophy, unhurried and inevitable. Turkey press forward with spirit, yet Croatia's midfield superiority will quietly, elegantly, decide this match.

Croatia's midfield engine is simply running at a different rpm here — Modrić and Kovačić dictating tempo and recycling possession will suffocate Turkey's transition game before it ever gets going. Turkey have the forward firepower with Güler and Yıldız to nick a goal on the counter, but Gvardiol sweeping behind a compact Croatian defensive block is a wall that will limit those moments to precisely that — moments. I actually think this one is decided in the forty-to-sixty minute corridor when Croatia's midfield superiority finally converts pressure into a second goal. On a lighter note, I attempted a proper Miami Cuban pastelito de guayaba this week — the lamination was not quite right and it puffed sideways, but the filling was magnificent, so I consider it a partial victory.