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In Belgium’s red, you could not find any blues.
There was no reticence in Rudi Garcia’s eloquence. “I reminded everyone to be proud of our World Cup run.”
There was no pain behind Axel Witsel’s prestige. “There is pride in the way he played.”
There was no confusion in captain Youri Tielemans’ confidence. “We gave our everything. I am sure the country will be proud of us.”
The abundance of pride might lead an unsuspecting reader to believe these words were spoken after a Belgian victory. They were not. They came in the immediate aftermath of their 2-1 quarter-final defeat to Spain.
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Could Belgium really be content with defeat in a sport that leaves so little room for nuance? Yes, Garcia’s men were facing the reigning European champions, but they are also Belgium. Ranked eighth. A former semifinalist. They are no strangers to football’s biggest stages.
But they once were.
When Spain lifted the World Cup in 2010, Belgium had not even qualified. They had, in fact, been thrashed 5-0 by the same opponents during qualifying. Two years later, Spain won the Euros. Belgium, once again, could not qualify. They drew against Azerbaijan in the qualifiers on that occasion.
It was one of the reasons Marc Wilmots accepted the national team’s managerial job. He had grown weary of pretending to be neutral while commentating on tournaments his country never reached. Vincent Kompany watched every World Cup and Euros because he adored football, and yet, he hated every minute of it because Belgium were never there.
Kevin De Bruyne grew up idolising England’s Michael Owen. Thibaut Courtois’ favourite was Spain’s Iker Casillas. No player captivated Axel Witsel quite like France’s Zinedine Zidane, while Romelu Lukaku dreamt only of scoring goals like Brazil’s Ronaldo. Belgium’s would-be heroes had to look elsewhere because of the dearth of Belgian heroes.
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On Friday, the most glorious chapter of Belgian football concluded. The curtain fell on a golden generation that lifted the country from 68th in the FIFA rankings after that 5-0 humiliation by Spain to No. 1 just nine years later. There were no pompous celebrations, no poetic justice, only a quiet acceptance that their time had passed.
The golden generation of Belgian hockey yielded an Olympic gold, a World Cup, a European Championship and two FIH Pro League titles. But not the De Bruynes and Lukakus. But they leave with something larger – the realisation that they belong.
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Even when they won nothing, Belgium’s golden generation won something
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Belgium have had teams that punched above their weight, but they were never blessed with talent.
They were not meant to. A nation of just 11.8 million people – only a couple of million more than London, fewer than the population of Ile-de-France and barely a fifth of Spain’s. Its professional pyramid comprises only 33 clubs; England has 92.
Then came the reforms of 2006. Government-funded football schools emerged. The De Bruynes and Courtois’ were nurtured here. While Brazil debated how to stem the exodus of teenage talent to Europe’s elite, Belgium embraced it. A small nation like theirs could afford to keep the best talents at home and stagnate their growth. Only three players in Belgium’s current squad represent domestic clubs. In 2002, there were 15.
The plan worked. At the 2018 World Cup, there was barely a team more intimidating than Belgium. History records only that France won the semi-final 1-0. Not that Belgium had 64 percent ball possession, or that they completed 539 passes to France’s 287. It forgets that Thomas Meunier, who had shackled Neymar in the quarter-final, was suspended.
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Like in Inglewood, context gave way to consequence. It did not matter that Youri Tielemans – Belgium’s best player in this tournament, who had covered the most distance by any player – was injured during the warm-up. Or that his midfield partner, Amadou Onana, was nursing an ACL injury. Or that number one goalkeeper Courtois was injured during the game, and his inexperienced deputy, Senne Lammens’ error resulted in Mikel Merino’s winner. Or that De Bruyne, too, had to be substituted because he was experiencing discomfort in his leg.
None of it mattered. Only that Spain were through.
Addressing questions after the game, Garcia whispered, perhaps more as a self-realisation than a statement to the journalists: “There is nothing to be ashamed about the defeat, because we looked Spain eye-to-eye. But I am disappointed for those who might not be called up again, for whom this was probably the last World Cup. They deserved more. This is harsh. Fate was not on our side.”
Then again, football, like life, is seldom fair. And yet, both have a curious way of rewarding those who fall short.
Belgium’s golden generation did not win a cup, but won relevance that the nation longed for.





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