DR Congo

The man between the posts on the night that matters, Mpasi has settled into the role of first-choice keeper at exactly the point in his career when a goalkeeper is supposed to be at his most dependable. He started and saw out the Denmark goalless draw, the one clean read of where this side stands, and in a team built to defend for long stretches his job is the unglamorous, vital one: deal cleanly with the cross the block is happy to concede, command his area, and make the save that turns a holding action into a result. At thirty-one this is almost certainly his one World Cup, and a generation that grew up hearing only about Zaire's fourteen conceded in 1974 will judge a keeper here on the simplest measure there is, which is how many he keeps out. He has spent his career in the unfashionable tiers of French football rather than its showcase, which makes the largest stage of all a strange and welcome late arrival.

Second-choice cover, a goalkeeper of twenty-six with only a handful of caps to his name, Fayulu is here to train hard, push the man ahead of him, and be ready if injury or a red card forces the issue. He sits in that awkward goalkeeping middle ground, young enough to be the future and unproven enough that the future is not promised, and a tournament squad place is itself a meaningful step on that road. Barring misfortune he watches from the bench, but a World Cup camp at this age is the kind of experience that shapes the years that follow.

At twenty-one and with a single cap, Epolo is the youngest of the three keepers and the clearest investment in what comes after this tournament rather than during it. His inclusion is the kind a coach makes to let a promising young goalkeeper breathe the air of a senior camp, learn the rhythms, and absorb a tournament from the inside without the pressure of being needed. He plies his trade in the lower reaches of the French game, and the realistic expectation is that he does not feature; the point is the apprenticeship, and the place he is being groomed to take in cycles to come.

Captain, the country's record cap holder, and the figure around whom everything calm about this side is organised, Mbemba is the difference between deep defending and desperate defending. DR Congo will spend long spells without the ball against Portugal and Colombia, and whether those spells read as a controlled block or a scramble runs through him: it is his line that holds its shape, his reading of danger that arrives a moment early, his composure carrying the ball out from the back that lets the side breathe. He started and captained the Denmark draw, where the block held and the early Danish chances were smothered by him and Kapuadi, and that is the template he is asked to repeat under a brighter light. At thirty-one he is in the late-peak phase of a long top-flight career, now at Lille after years as a fixture in French football; the judgement that organises a back five does not fade, but the legs across a full tournament are the one variable. This is the chapter he was made for, very probably his only World Cup, and the country's whole hope of erasing the old scorelines is built on the experience he brings. He is, in the most literal sense, the spine of the return.

An England-developed centre-back who chose the Leopards, Tuanzebe is the man whose extra-time header beat Jamaica on the last day of March and ended a fifty-two-year wait, which gives him a place in this story no tactic can take away. To this team he is the recovery and aerial cover beside Mbemba, the right-sided defender in the back five whose pace and calm in the box mop up the space in behind when the line is stretched. At twenty-eight he is in his prime years and arriving at a first World Cup after a winding club career, now at Burnley in the English top flight, a journey that took in the academy of a giant and several loans before settling into this. The tournament is both a breakout on the grandest stage and a vindication of a difficult path, and for a back line that lost depth when Bushiri withdrew, his reliability matters more than it did a month ago. He is part of the diaspora intake that Desabre has welded onto the qualification core, neither the past nor the distant future but the present made solid.

The left-sided centre-back in the projected five, Kapuadi is the quieter member of the back line and, on the Denmark evidence, a trusted one: it was he and Mbemba who blocked the early Danish openings before the draw settled into its shape. At twenty-eight he is a relative latecomer to the senior side, with only a few caps, a defender who has built his career away from the glare in the leagues of central Europe rather than the show windows of the big five, and who arrives at a first World Cup as a peak-years professional finally given the stage his form earned. His job is the unfussy one of defending the space on his side, holding the line, and letting the more decorated names around him be seen; in a team that lives or dies on collective shape, that anonymity is a compliment. For a player of his profile, simply being a starter at a World Cup is the achievement of a career.

The left wing-back, Masuaku gives the side its width on that flank and, out of possession, tucks back to make the line a five, the constant tide of pushing forward and dropping in that the system asks of him for ninety minutes. At thirty-two he is among the elder figures in the group, a defender with a long European career behind him, now in the Turkish top flight at Besiktas after years in the English game, and this is in all likelihood his last tournament and the first of his life on this stage. His experience reads in the discipline of the role: he knows when the overlap is on and, more importantly for this team, when to stay home. He is one of the veterans whose minutes and judgement Desabre is trusting rather than rebuilding around, a bridge from the older Congo to the side now taking shape.

Among the best pure one-against-one defenders in the squad, Wan-Bissaka is the specialist tool held in reserve for the wide threats of Portugal and Colombia, and his role here is one of the more interesting selection questions Desabre faces. An England-developed full-back who committed to DR Congo only in 2025, he arrived late to camp and came on only in the final minutes against Denmark, which leaves his starting place live rather than locked: the public evidence says game-state option as much as automatic pick. What is not in doubt is the value of the thing he does best. Against an elite winger isolated on the touchline, his containment may be worth more to this defensive plan than any overlap, because he offers little going forward and that is precisely not why he is here. At twenty-eight and at West Ham United in the Premier League, he is in his prime and at his first World Cup, a recognisable name from the English game now lending his particular, narrow brilliance to the country of his heritage. The question is only whether his coach starts him or saves him.

The right wing-back in the projected eleven, Kalulu is the mirror of Masuaku on the opposite flank, keeping the right honest going forward and folding back into the back five when the block sets, and he held that role through the Denmark draw before Wan-Bissaka came on for the final minutes. At twenty-eight he is in his peak years, a useful, hard-running full-back who has made his career in French football, and a first World Cup is both a stage and a shop window for a player whose profile sits below the squad's marquee names. His starting place is the one Wan-Bissaka most directly threatens, which makes every defensive duel on his side a small audition; for now the legs and the willingness to run the line both ways have kept him in front. He is part of the dependable, unshowy middle of this squad, the kind of player a tournament side needs more of than it admits.

A centre-back of thirty in the depth ranks, Batubinsika is squad cover whose stock rose, quietly, the moment Bushiri's withdrawal thinned the options in the middle of the defence. He is the kind of experienced, physically serious defender a coach is glad to have on the bench rather than needing on the pitch, a professional in the German top flight at Stuttgart who arrives at a first World Cup in his peak years. Should injury or suspension break up the first-choice line, he is among the men who step in, and in a tournament that asks a defence to hold for long stretches that insurance is not trivial. For now his contribution is the depth and competition he provides in training, and the calm of knowing he is there.

A versatile left-sided defender of thirty-one, Joris Kayembe is the cover behind Masuaku and a useful body across the back line, capable of filling in at full-back or wing-back as the shape demands. He came on at Liège in the second half, a substitute's role that reads as his likely tournament station: rotation and contingency rather than a starting berth. At his age this is in all probability his only World Cup, a late reward for a steady career in French football, now at Lens. He is one of the experienced depth pieces that give Desabre options without forcing changes, the sort of squad man whose value shows most on the night something goes wrong for someone ahead of him.

One of the biggest clues the Denmark night offered, Mukau started in the screening role in front of the defence and was the player tasked with dropping to take the ball from Mbemba and turn the side up the pitch. At twenty-one he is, with Sadiki, the reason this is not simply a veterans' comeback: a young defensive midfielder whose size and left foot make him a natural shield ahead of a back five, giving reach, ball-winning and a left-sided angle that balances the team. He is at Lille, a strong European club that trusted him young, and a first World Cup at this age is the breakout stage a player his age dreams of, with the caveat that his international role is still forming and exactly how much he plays remains to be seen. The physical and technical raw materials are plainly there; the tournament is where a talent like this either announces itself or is filed away as one for next time. He belongs to the future of this side as much as its present, a player the next cycle may well be built around.

The central member of the midfield three, Moutoussamy is the experience and traffic control in the middle of the pitch, the man who played the full Denmark match in the engine room and whose job is to win the second balls and screen the spaces that stop pressure becoming a siege. At twenty-nine he is in his peak years, a midfielder who has built a solid career in France and now in Spain with Getafe, the kind of professional whose work is felt more than seen and rarely makes a highlight reel. A first World Cup is both a deserved stage and, for a player of his profile, the high point of a career spent doing the necessary rather than the spectacular. In a side that asks its midfield three to cover the whole width of the pitch alone, his reading of where the danger is going matters as much as anyone's; he is one of the dependable spine that holds the whole defensive plan together.

The third man in the projected midfield, Edo Kayembe is industry and duels, the legs and ball-winning that complete the trio alongside Mukau and Moutoussamy, and he started the Denmark match before being withdrawn for Sadiki midway through the second half, a substitution that hints at how live the midfield selection remains. At twenty-eight he is in his prime, a combative midfielder whose career has taken him through Belgium to the English game at Watford, and a first World Cup is the largest stage of a steadily climbing career. His role is the relentless one of covering ground in a midfield perpetually at risk of being outnumbered against better sides; if he tires or the game demands more pressure, Sadiki is the man waiting to take his place. He is part of the working core of this team, neither star nor makeweight, the kind of midfielder a transition side cannot do without.

The reason this is not simply a veterans' comeback, Sadiki is the new-generation engine whose running power gives a transition side the legs it needs, and the Denmark night cast him precisely: not a starter but the first midfield change, coming on midway through the second half to inject pressure and mobility. At twenty-one he is already trusted with regular minutes for club and country and carries a substantial valuation, the marker of a player the bigger leagues are watching; he made his move to Sunderland in the English game and arrives at a first World Cup with the most exciting ceiling in the group. Slight of frame, he must win his duels with positioning and energy rather than strength, and his second-half role at Liège is the honest read of where he sits right now, a key young piece whose opener place is not yet his. This tournament is a breakout stage in the truest sense, the moment a lower-profile youngster either steps into the light or banks the experience for the cycle that follows. He is the future of this midfield, arriving slightly ahead of schedule.

Kakuta is the answer to a different question than the rest of the squad: not how to out-run a defence but how to break one that has already set itself, the left-footed craft Desabre can reach for when running and directness are not enough. His recall is the one true novelty in an otherwise continuity-heavy list, brought back after limited recent national-team involvement to add a passer to a team built on legs, and the Denmark night placed him exactly where the plan expects him, named among the substitutes and unused. At thirty-four this is a late and probably final tournament for a creator whose career began with great promise at a European giant and has wound down through France and now Greece at Larisa, a long way from where it started but with the guile intact. His contribution will be guile and tempo rather than energy, the pause in a frantic game and the pass that unlocks it, and the likeliest scene for it is against an Uzbekistan that may sit and defend rather than press, when the Leopards must do the breaking down themselves. He is the last of an older creative tradition in this squad, kept for the moment invention beats industry.

A wide forward and one of the more capped men in the group, Elia is an experienced attacking option from the flank, a player with real international mileage who nonetheless finds himself outside the projected eleven in a system that has favoured two central forwards over orthodox wingers. He was an unused substitute against Denmark, which reads as his likely tournament station: rotation and a change of profile late in a game rather than a starting role. He has built a long and productive career in Switzerland at Young Boys, where Champions League nights have given him a stage few in this squad can match, and at twenty-eight he arrives at a first World Cup in his peak years. His value is the directness and goal threat he offers from wide if Desabre needs to chase a game; he is a senior, dependable squad piece whose tournament may turn on a decisive twenty minutes.

A physical, defensively minded midfielder of twenty-nine, Pickel is the option Desabre reaches for when he wants more steel and a harder edge in the middle, and he came on against Denmark to shift the midfield's balance in exactly that direction. He sits among the alternatives in the engine room rather than the first-choice three, rotation depth whose minutes depend on the game in front of him and the legs of the men ahead of him. He is in the Spanish top flight at Levante, in his peak years, arriving at a first World Cup as a useful, combative squad piece. His value is the change he can bring rather than the start he is unlikely to get: a more physical midfield shift when a match turns into a fight.

Tshibola's place in this squad is itself a piece of news: an England-developed defensive midfielder called in as Rocky Bushiri's replacement after the original twenty-six was named, his arrival tilting the final balance away from an extra centre-back and toward midfield cover. At thirty he is a journeyman professional whose career, once promising at a Premier League club, has settled into the Scottish game at Kilmarnock, which makes a late call-up to a World Cup squad an unlikely and welcome turn. To this team he is depth in the holding role, the body that fills out the bench rather than the plan, and on the Denmark evidence he was available but unused. His selection is a reminder of how thin the margins are at the edge of a squad, and of how a single injury can open a door no one expected to find.

An attacking midfielder or wide forward of twenty-four, Mbuku is one of the younger creative options on the bench, the kind of player brought on to add legs and directness when the game opens up, as he was against Denmark when he replaced Wissa in the closing minutes. He is in his early prime, a player of French football at Strasbourg whose career has had its stops and starts, and a first World Cup is a chance to show what he can do on a stage that magnifies everything. In a squad that leans on its forwards staying high and central, his role is to offer something different from wide, a change of pace late in a game; for now that is a rotation and impact job rather than a starting one. He is part of the next layer of this side, a talent still proving where exactly he fits.

One of the least-heralded names in the twenty-six, Cipenga is a midfield or attacking-hybrid squad piece of twenty-eight with only a handful of caps, a player on whom the public record is genuinely thin. He arrived into the Belgium camp ahead of the Denmark friendly but did not feature in that match, and his realistic station for the tournament is squad depth and contingency rather than a place in the plan. At his age this is in all likelihood his one World Cup, a reward for form that earned a coach's trust even where wider attention has not followed. Where the evidence runs out it is more honest to say so than to invent a stat line; what is clear is that he is here, in camp, and ready if called.

The veteran forward in the projected two, Bakambu may be the clearest sign of Desabre's plan: if he starts alongside Wissa, the Leopards are not merely parking a block but keeping two genuine runners to aim at on the break, two penalty-box threats rather than one isolated target a pair of centre-backs can shepherd. He started the Denmark match and was withdrawn after seventy minutes, and the local reports dwelt on a clear chance he did not take, which is the whole tournament's question in miniature, because a side built to defend and counter lives on the few openings it makes. At thirty-five he is the elder of the attack and one of the most decorated scorers in the country's recent history, a forward whose long career has taken him from China to Spain and now to Real Betis; his role is no longer to press for ninety minutes but to be in the right place when the rare ball arrives. This is, beyond any doubt, his last World Cup, a final tournament for a player who carried the line for a generation, and his value now is chance conversion and movement, the cold finish a transition side is built to need. The Denmark miss is not a character judgement; it is, rather, the reason finishing limited chances is the whole problem.

If DR Congo score from open play against a favourite, Wissa is the first place to look. Two-footed, quick and built to punish a high line on the break, he is the forward this whole plan funnels its best moments toward, the release valve a clearance is aimed at and the runner expected to chase it. He started against Denmark and played to the eighty-seventh minute, which usefully shifts the watch from availability to sharpness: the question is no longer whether he is fit but whether he is finishing. At twenty-nine he is in his prime and at the largest club of his career, Newcastle United, where the move came trailing form and fitness questions that UK coverage has not let go, and where his season has been read as a difficult adjustment rather than a triumph. That makes this tournament a redemption stage as much as a showcase, a chance to answer the doubts on the grandest platform of all, and it makes him the man the country will look to for the goal that changes a group. The risk is the obvious one: ask a single forward to carry the scoring almost alone and the margin for an off night vanishes. He is the reference point of this attack, and the plan's brightest hope and sharpest gamble at once.

A box and hold-up forward of twenty-nine, Banza is the change Desabre can make up front when a game needs a different kind of striker late, and he came on for Bakambu after seventy minutes against Denmark, which reads as a fair preview of his tournament role. He is at Sporting CP in the Portuguese top flight, in his peak years, and arrives at a first World Cup as a useful second-half option rather than a starter, the man to lead the line when the veteran ahead of him tires. His job is the same one the whole attack shares, to be ready for the rare clean chance and to take it; in a side this dependent on converting its few openings, a fresh finisher off the bench is no small thing. He is rotation depth with a real role to play, the kind of forward who can decide a game in twenty minutes.

A forward of thirty-one with a scorer's record built largely in African club football and now in Greece at Panathinaikos, Mayele is squad depth in attack who, on the public evidence, sits behind Wissa, Bakambu and Banza in the pecking order, unused in the Denmark friendly. His value is the goal threat he carries from a different kind of career to the diaspora forwards around him, a genuine penalty-box poacher to call on if the game-state demands fresh legs and a different profile. At his age this is in all probability his one World Cup, a late and well-earned stage for a player who has scored consistently away from the European spotlight. His path to real minutes runs through an injury or a tactical shift ahead of him, but as a finishing option in reserve he is exactly the kind of player a side short of goals is glad to carry.

A wide forward of thirty whose pace and directness once made him a recognisable name in Spanish and Belgian football, Bongonda is an attacking option from the flank held in the squad's depth, capable of stretching a defence and running at a tiring full-back late in a game. He did not feature against Denmark, and in a system that has leaned toward two central forwards and a packed midfield his particular skill set sits slightly against the grain, which makes him more contingency than plan. He is in the French game at Troyes, in his peak years, and a first World Cup is a stage that may come down to a handful of substitute minutes. His best moment, if it comes, is as a change of pace and angle when the Leopards need to chase a game rather than protect one. He is the kind of player whose tournament can turn on a single decisive cameo.