Bosnia and Herzegovina

The man who, almost without fanfare, settled the question that had nagged at Bosnia ever since Asmir Begović stepped away. At thirty, with twenty-five caps behind him, Vasilj kept goal through the shootout in Zenica that put Italy out and was trusted again in the St. Louis dress rehearsal against Panama, which tells you all you need about where he stands in Barbarez's order. His club football is in Germany, where he has been St. Pauli's first choice through the side's bruising attempt to hold its place in the Bundesliga, exactly the diet of high-volume shot-stopping a low-block national team wants from its keeper. He is not a name that travels far beyond the Balkans and the Reeperbahn, but he is the one certainty at the back of a side that intends to defend for long stretches, and a calm shot-stopper is worth more to this team than a flashy one. For a goalkeeper who spent years as the understudy and the maybe, arriving at a first World Cup as the undisputed number one is its own small vindication.

The deputy, and at twenty-seven a goalkeeper in the part of his career where a national-team place is built on patience rather than minutes. Zlomislić keeps for Rijeka in Croatia, where he has been part of a side competing near the top of the table, and his three caps mark him as the established second choice rather than a project. Unless something happens to Vasilj he will watch this tournament from the bench, but he is the reliable next-in-line a manager needs, and being in the twenty-six at all is the reward for steady club form across the border.

The third goalkeeper, the role that is all preparation and no expectation. Hadžikić, who plays his club football for Slaven Belupo in Croatia, is here to complete the goalkeeping trio and to train rather than to play, and only an implausible run of misfortune ahead of him would change that. A well-travelled keeper whose career has taken him around central Europe, he is the kind of senior squad presence every tournament group carries: experienced, unfussy, and unlikely to see the pitch.

The clearest evidence that this is not merely a nostalgia act. At twenty-three Dedić is the modern face of the side, an athletic right-back whose forward surges give Bosnia an outlet and an overlap that the rest of the team, built to sit and counter, badly needs. He plays his club football at Benfica, where a season of Champions League nights has sharpened him against the best wide players in Europe, and that pedigree shows in the wide duels that will decide territory against Canada and Switzerland; he grabbed an assist in the Panama warm-up to underline the point. His job is twofold and slightly contradictory — defend the flank when Bosnia are pinned back, then sprint sixty metres the instant the ball turns over — and it is his running that frees Bajraktarević to drift infield and carry. With twenty-seven caps already at his age he is one of the players the country expects to build around long after Džeko has gone; on the break, more often than not, he is the man who turns defending into attacking, and how far Bosnia travel may hinge on how much of the game he can spend in the opposition half.

The body and the voice the defence is built around, and alongside Džeko the senior pillar who sets the tone. At thirty-two Kolašinac is a veteran in the truest sense, sixty-four caps deep and carrying a decade of scar tissue from the Bundesliga, Arsenal and now Atalanta, where his physical, combative defending has kept him in the thick of Serie A and European football. For Bosnia he gives the left side its muscle and organises the block, the experienced head a young back line will lean on when it is asked to absorb long stretches of pressure, and he remains a genuine threat at the other end's set pieces, that left foot and that frame arriving in the box. His minutes were managed through the June friendlies, rested against North Macedonia, which is the sensible husbanding of a player whose value is in the heavy lifting of the knockout-or-bust moments. This is, in all likelihood, his last World Cup too, and the defensive leadership it asks of him is exactly the role a player of his vintage and temperament should relish.

The centre-back at the heart of the rugged block, and a real weapon at both ends of a set piece. At twenty-nine Katić is in the meat of his career, a commanding aerial presence whose job is to win the first contact in his own box and then go and threaten in the opponent's; he scored against Panama in the St. Louis warm-up, the kind of goal — a header from a dead ball — that is written into Bosnia's actual game plan rather than a happy accident. He plays his club football in Germany at Schalke, the same second-tier address as his captain, where regular minutes have kept him sharp after the injury troubles that interrupted his earlier years at Rangers. With sixteen caps he is less of a national-team fixture than his stature suggests, but in a side that intends to defend deep and win the physical exchanges, his penalty-area authority is close to indispensable, and his threat from corners and free-kicks is one of the few reliable routes to goal when the run of play dries up.

The youngest of the projected back four and, at twenty-three, the defender on whom the post-Džeko spine may end up resting. Muharemović is a composed, versatile centre-back who can step out with the ball, and his standing has risen in Italy at Sassuolo, where a strong season helped the club push back towards the top flight and gave him the senior minutes a young defender needs. For Bosnia he partners Katić in the middle and brings the calmer, more constructive side of the pairing, the man more likely to carry the ball out of trouble than to launch it. Thirteen caps in, he is squarely part of the country's future-facing layer, and a first World Cup at his age is the breakout stage on which an emerging defender announces he belongs at this level.

An experienced centre-back who provides Barbarez genuine cover and competition rather than mere numbers. At twenty-seven, with thirty-one caps, Hadžikadunić is among the more capped defenders in the group and has been a regular in the national-team picture for years; his club season was spent in Italy with Sampdoria in the demanding grind of Serie B. He is rotation rather than first-choice in the current pecking order, but in a tournament that asks a back line to absorb three games in under a fortnight, a defender of his experience is exactly the depth a low-block side relies on, and an injury or a suspension would put him straight into contention.

Defensive depth in the prime of his career, a centre-back who has built a settled professional life in the Turkish top flight. At twenty-eight Mujakić plays his football for Gaziantep in the Süper Lig, where regular minutes have made him a dependable squad option for Bosnia across eleven caps. He is unlikely to start barring injury ahead of him, but he is a known quantity Barbarez trusts to slot into the block without disrupting its shape, the sort of unglamorous cover that keeps a defending side intact across a long tournament.

A late-blooming centre-back whose national-team story is only a few chapters old. At twenty-eight Radeljić has won five caps and plays his club football for Rijeka in Croatia, where he has been part of a side competing at the right end of the table. He is squad depth rather than a probable starter, included for the balance and physical cover a back line needs over three games, and his presence reflects how Barbarez has spread his defensive options across the region's leagues. For a player who reached the senior side relatively late, a first World Cup is reward in itself.

The youngest defender in the group and, at nineteen with a single cap, a pick aimed squarely at the cycle to come. Čelik is on the books at Lens in France's Ligue 1, a promising address for a teenage defender, and his inclusion is the clearest sign that Barbarez sees the back line, like the rest of the side, as a project with a future as well as a present. He is here for the experience rather than the minutes, an emerging talent gathering the texture of a World Cup camp years before he might be asked to lead one; the tournament is a grounding, and the expectation lies further down the road.

The face of the youth layer arriving a cycle early, and the man who gives a structured, transition-minded side its flair. At twenty-one Bajraktarević operates from the right and drifts infield to carry and combine, the player most likely to beat his marker and conjure something from nothing in a team otherwise built on organisation and the dead ball. His move into European football's upper reaches came with PSV Eindhoven in the Netherlands, the step up a young attacker of his promise needed, and his standing in this group was sealed from twelve yards: it was Bajraktarević who held his nerve to score the shootout penalty that eliminated Italy and sent Bosnia to the World Cup, a moment that would test a player twice his age. Fifteen caps in, he is the cleanest embodiment of the country's post-Džeko future, the accelerator who lets Bosnia be quicker and less predictable than a side leaning solely on a forty-year-old. The temperament is already proven; this tournament is where the talent gets its proper stage, and a breakout here would reframe the whole next cycle around him.

The box-to-box engine of the projected midfield, and one of the young legs the veterans no longer have. At twenty-three Tahirović shuttles between the boxes, covering ground in front of the back four and pushing forward to support the attack, the kind of running the system demands so that Džeko can stand still and matter. A graduate of Roma's academy who has since rebuilt his rhythm with regular football at Brøndby in Denmark, he has twenty-seven caps despite his age, a sign of how early Bosnia turned to him. In a pivot unsettled by Šunjić's injury, his industry becomes more important still, and a first World Cup is the stage on which an emerging midfielder shows he can be trusted to hold a side together rather than merely run for it.

The deeper of the two projected central midfielders, the one who sits and distributes while Tahirović does the shuttling. At twenty-four Bašić is the player Barbarez has leaned on to screen the back four and keep the ball moving through the middle, an unshowy role that becomes load-bearing in a side that wins by being hard to play through. His club football is in Kazakhstan with Astana, an unfashionable address that keeps him below the radar of the bigger European leagues, but sixteen caps say the national-team staff value the balance he gives them. With Šunjić sidelined, the pivot is unsettled days from kickoff, and the question of whether Bašić can hold the centre against cleaner-passing opponents — Switzerland above all — is one of the live ones around this team; the World Cup is his chance to prove the answer is yes.

A holding midfielder whose tournament was in doubt almost before it began, and who made it to the World Cup the hard way. At twenty-nine, with thirty-five caps among the most experienced of the engine room, Hadžiahmetović is exactly the kind of disciplined screener a low block wants in front of its defence; he plays his club football in England with Hull City in the Championship. A meniscus scare in the spring at one point looked as if it would cost him the tournament entirely, before he recovered to make the final twenty-six and feature off the bench against Panama. With Šunjić hurt, his fitness matters more than his billing as rotation might suggest: a fully sharp Hadžiahmetović is a ready-made solution to the unsettled pivot, and these finals are, after the scare, something close to a redemption.

The natural screen in front of the back four when fit, and the most consequential injury question in the squad. At twenty-nine Šunjić is the holding midfielder Barbarez would, by most readings, choose to anchor the pivot — he started the playoff against Italy in that role — which is why a muscle injury that has kept him out of training days from the opener unsettles the whole structure of a side that lives by being difficult to play through. He plays his club football in Cyprus at Pafos, where the move has brought him European nights and regular minutes after years in England with Birmingham. With eleven caps he is less of a fixture than his importance to this system implies; recover in time and he walks straight back in, and the midfield Barbarez has spent the build-up improvising is suddenly settled.

A ball-carrying central midfielder who gives Barbarez another set of young legs in reserve. At twenty-four Gigović plays in Switzerland for Young Boys, a regular European participant, where steady minutes have kept him in the national-team conversation across nineteen caps. He is rotation rather than a certain starter, but in a midfield thinned by injury his energy and willingness to drive forward make him a live option, the sort of in-his-prime depth that lets a side change the texture of a game from the bench. A first World Cup is a stage to push from squad member towards something more.

A central midfielder in the prime of his career who offers Barbarez experienced depth through the middle. At twenty-eight Burnić plays his club football in Germany, where he has been a regular for Karlsruher SC in the second tier after coming up through the Borussia Dortmund and Stuttgart systems, a steady professional grounding that earned him nineteen caps. He is rotation rather than a likely starter, but with the pivot unsettled by Šunjić's injury he is one more body the manager can trust to sit and keep the side compact, the kind of unfussy cover a defending team leans on across a long tournament.

A wide attacker who is a genuine alternative on the left rather than a passenger. At twenty-five Memić started the playoff against Italy out wide and offers Barbarez a different profile to the teenage Alajbegović, more direct and physically developed, the kind of option a manager values when a low-block side needs an outlet on the break. He plays his club football in the Czech Republic at Viktoria Plzeň, a regular in European qualifying rounds, and twelve caps mark him as an established part of the picture. He sits on the cusp of the eleven, and a tournament in which the left flank is a live selection call could be the shop window that turns him from rotation into a regular.

At eighteen the youngest of the projected eleven, and the cleanest symbol of the post-Džeko future arriving early. Alajbegović gives the left flank its width and its push, the teenage upside Barbarez has chosen to trust from the start rather than to nurse from the bench, and that faith is striking given the stage. He plays his club football at Red Bull Salzburg in Austria, the famed production line for young talent, an address that signals how highly he is rated within the game. With nine caps already he is some way ahead of the usual curve for a player his age, and his selection alongside fellow teenager Čelik tells you Barbarez is building two things at once — a World Cup side and the team that comes after it. For a footballer this young, simply starting at a finals is the breakout; whatever he adds beyond that is found money for a country looking past its captain's farewell.

The squad's sole uncapped debutant, here for the experience rather than the expectation. At twenty-one Mahmić earns his place in the twenty-six on the strength of a season at Slovan Liberec in the Czech league, and his inclusion — the only entirely new face Barbarez took to the World Cup — is the manager making a small bet on a player he wants inside the camp for the cycle ahead. He is unlikely to feature unless the tournament runs long and kind to him, but for a young midfielder still waiting on his first cap, a World Cup camp is an education that money cannot buy and a marker of the federation's faith in him.

The heartbeat of the country and the last man standing from the side that charmed Brazil in 2014, on what is, by any honest reading, his final adventure. At forty Džeko is Bosnia's all-time leading scorer and most-capped player by a distance — close to a hundred and fifty appearances, more than seventy goals — and the captain around whom the entire team is still arranged, even now that age has taken the running from his game. Barbarez has built the attack precisely so that he need not run: Džeko drops into pockets to link the play and hold the ball up, dragging a centre-back out with him, or stands in the box and waits for the cross, his gravity changing how Canada, Switzerland and Qatar have to defend the dead ball and the second contact. That his minutes must be rationed across three games in thirteen days is the central management question of the campaign — when he rested through the June friendlies the goals dried up, a goalless draw and a 1-1 that were less a failure than a warning about where the side turns without him. His club football is in Germany's second tier with Schalke, where earlier in 2026 he became the oldest scorer in the division's history, the late, almost defiant coda to a career that took in Wolfsburg, Manchester City, Roma and Inter. It was Džeko who headed the late equaliser against Wales that began this whole improbable run; it is Džeko whom the diaspora has come to see one last time. Manage him well and Bosnia have a focal point few groups can match; lose him and the attack has no obvious centre. This is the closing of the golden-generation chapter, and a whole country wants only to send him off the way he deserves.

The piece that makes the whole Džeko plan viable, and arguably the more indispensable half of the partnership across a compressed group stage. At twenty-eight Demirović is in his prime, a mobile, two-way centre-forward who can lead a line or partner one, and his job for Bosnia is the unglamorous engine work the captain can no longer do — stretching the back line, attacking the space Džeko vacates, leading the press, doing the running of two men off the front. He is a Bundesliga regular at VfB Stuttgart, where he has held his place in a side that has been competing in Europe, the level of week-in club football that lets him carry that physical load against quality opposition. With thirty-nine caps he is squarely part of the prime layer that actually does the team's heavy lifting, the bridge between the captain's generation and the kids beneath him. If Bosnia want to play through Džeko without grinding to a halt, it is Demirović's movement that supplies the dynamism; quieter than the captain in the headlines, he may matter more to the result.

The natural alternative through the middle, the man whose late goal beat Italy, and the squad's most anxious fitness watch. At thirty-one Tabaković is the striker Barbarez turns to when Džeko rests — a different, more orthodox box presence — which is why his availability matters out of all proportion to his ten caps. It was his seventy-ninth-minute equaliser in Zenica that forced extra time and the shootout that eliminated Italy, the goal that, as much as any, sent Bosnia to this World Cup. He plays his club football in Germany at Borussia Mönchengladbach, where a productive Bundesliga season was cut short by an ankle injury suffered on the final matchday; he was kept in the twenty-six as a calculated medical gamble, training separately and aimed at a return later in the group stage rather than for the opener. With the depth behind the captain thin, his recovery is one of the storylines that could decide how far the attack can go: get him fit by the back half of the group and Bosnia have a second focal point; lose him and Džeko's rationed minutes look thinner still.

A young centre-forward whose stock has risen on the back of European football in Poland. At twenty-two Baždar plays for Jagiellonia Białystok, a club that has pushed into continental competition, and that exposure helped earn him a place among Bosnia's twelve-cap fringe. With Tabaković's fitness in question, his role gains a little weight — he is the emerging striker who could be asked to deputise if the injuries bite — but he is squad depth rather than a probable starter. A first World Cup at his age is the breakout stage and the shop window at once, a chance to show he belongs in the conversation for the cycle that follows the captain's farewell.

Forward depth and a relatively new face in the senior side, the player who stood in for Džeko up top in the Panama warm-up. At twenty-seven Lukić plays his club football in Romania at Universitatea Cluj, and his two caps mark him as a recent addition rather than an established option; his selection gives Barbarez another body through the middle in a forward line stretched thin by Tabaković's injury. He is unlikely to start barring further misfortune, but the friendly minutes against Panama were a glimpse of how the attack functions in the captain's absence, and for a player who reached this level late, a place in the twenty-six is its own reward.