Luka Modrich from the refugee who played football under Serbian grenades to Golden Ball

That morning in December 1991, the elder took the livestock into the mountain because it did so every day, in rain and sun, winter and summer. He took the livestock into the mountain that morning and never returned. A handful of men dressed in police uniforms arrested him. Whether they were regular police officials or not, this man's guilt was the same as in any country torn apart by belonging: it was not one of them. He was another. The enemy. His fault had nothing to do with his actions: he was crazy. He was Croatian, they were Serbs. That's it.

The men took him and others to the nearby village of Jessenice, where they were executed. After himself, the elder left the family he loved and loved - no one more than the six - year - old nephew with whom he shared his name and with whom he was almost inseparable, the old man worshipped his nephew while the boy held his grandfather as a hero.

The name they shared was Luca Modrick, and on Sunday this young boy, now 32, led his country to the World Cup Final.

After the death of Grandpa, Luke's family was burned down, and they lived in hotels for years, not in expensive, comfortable but simple, half-torn hotels in his hometown of Zara. When mortars fell, as was often the case, little Luke would lock himself in the room and wait for them to rest - but when the situation became clear, he would go out to play soccer in the parking lot, sometimes with other children and on his own. Anything that kept him from the gloom to escape the reality of a country of eternal conflict.

He was a small child -- too small to engage, as was fulfilled by the largest club on this side, Hajduk of Split. So as 18-year-olds ended up playing for Club Zrnjski Mostar in Bosnia and Herzegovina League, where fellow players and opponents discovered two things about this young man: that he had all the skills that could be desired and that he could take care of himself as well.

Fifteen years later he began trips from Dinamo in Zagreb to Tottenham Hotspur to Real of Madrid. So it looks the same, according to «reporter's unex1 Barney Ronay, the little «jaloch dressed as the magician», is now one of the best players in the world: midfielder of extraordinary talents, one of the few who can curve time and space as needed.

And perhaps of all the greatest talents is this: that you can make others play better. When a simple pass is the easiest option, he plays it. When you need me to hold the ball for a little bit of access until your fellow players get better, he does it. When he has to guard his back to his fellow players behind the lost ball, he does.

He is not one of those superstitions whose gravity attracts the eyes and the game, whose presence restrains another 10 men holding the deer as he does. He's an exact preventative leader because he doesn't do this for himself. You won't find him turning around like he's got into a mine field, or tearing the deer apart when he scores, or looking and sitting like the persecuted when things don't go as they please. He leaves these things to Neymar, Ronaldo, Mess. They're there, too. He's still there just like his team.

He managed to win the Golden Ball tonight by breaking the Messi-Randaldo hegemony that lasts ten years.

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