The best on the pitch, the winning goal born from the Kenan-Orkun connection
This feels like the opening chapter of a long story. Italy, a global powerhouse that has lifted the World Cup trophy four times, watched the last 12 years of the tournament from the outside. In 2018 they fell in the play-offs to Sweden, in 2022 to North Macedonia. Were Sweden or North Macedonia better teams on paper than Italy? No. Did they have more talented squads? Again, no. What they did have was hunger. They ran more, fought harder, and treated those games like life-or-death battles. Because in matches of this kind, passion can sometimes overshadow pure footballing quality.
You don’t even need to look that far away for an example. Take Slovakia. As an independent state, it is among the few in Europe that still do not recognize Kosovo. For Kosovo, beating Slovakia in the play-off semi-final was never going to be just about tactics or technique. It was about identity, history, pride. The Kosovars clearly stepped onto the pitch with more than one reason to win that game.
Yesterday I had referred to a remarkable observation made back in 2007 by Pascal Boniface: never forget that football is a form of “soft power.” Sometimes your weapons, your industry, your economic might are not enough to stand shoulder to shoulder with the giants. But defeating a giant in a football match can unite an entire nation under one flag, if only for 90 minutes. That emotional impact is not symbolic; it is real, lived, and deeply political.
Kosovo yesterday lived perhaps the greatest moment in its 18-year history as an independent country. A victory in Pristina would do more than just secure a place in the next round; it would shout to the rest of the world: “There is a country called Kosovo, and we are here.” That is an enormous burden to carry into a match. For Turkey, this context meant that the tie was never going to be simple. And it wasn’t. From the first whistle, it was clear we were in for a grueling, uncomfortable night.
We only truly took control once we put the ball on the ground
The first half was a raw, bruising physical confrontation. There was little rhythm, little fluency – just duels, collisions, and long balls. Our national team, as constructed, is not particularly tall. On the pitch there were six players over 185 centimeters, and five of them were wearing Kosovo shirts. Whenever the ball went airborne or dropped into no man’s land, we were second-best too often. We were being dragged into a game that did not suit us.
What we needed to do was obvious: keep the ball on the floor, use quick passing, and allow our technical quality to come to the fore. For a while, we could not impose that plan. But as the second half kicked off, the picture changed. We began to circulate the ball better, link the lines, and stretch Kosovo horizontally. The left flank, which has been our most effective side for two matches now, again became the main artery of our attacking play.
And then came the moment that decided everything: the winning strike created by the combination of Kenan and Orkun. It was not just a goal; it was the distilled essence of what this team can be when it plays to its strengths. Intelligent movement, clean passing, calm in the final third – and ruthless execution when it matters. In a match where brute force had dominated the first 45 minutes, the contest was ultimately settled by a flash of quality.
Kenan and Orkun: quality in the chaos
In games where emotions run high and the tempo is frantic, players who can stay calm under pressure become priceless. Kenan and Orkun were exactly that. They did not allow the intensity to drag them into aimless long balls or rushed decisions. Instead, they sought the short pass, looked between the lines, and tried to turn duels into combinations.
Their partnership on the decisive goal showcased the future direction this team needs: trust in technique, trust in structure, and trust in players who read the game one step ahead. When you are physically at a disadvantage, the response has to be superior positioning and better use of the ball. That sequence was a lesson in precisely that logic.
This is especially important because Turkey will face many similar scenarios in coming years. Against teams with taller, stronger forwards and defenders, we will rarely dominate aerial battles. The pathway to consistent success is to insist on our technical profile: quick full-backs, creative midfielders, forwards who can combine in tight spaces. Kenan and Orkun illustrated that profile better than anyone on the pitch.
A new World Cup pattern should start here
Historically, Turkey has reached the World Cup only twice: once in a 16-team format, and once in a 32-team format. In the context of those eras, both participations were massive achievements and are rightly remembered as golden milestones. But the international landscape has changed. With the expansion to a 48-team World Cup, qualification can no longer be treated as an extraordinary event that happens every couple of decades. It should become a recurring pattern.
This latest ticket, won at the end of such a charged and difficult evening, ought to mark the beginning of a series, not an isolated success. The structure of the tournament now offers more spots, which means more room for teams like Turkey that sit just below the traditional giants. Failing to take those chances would be a step backwards; embracing them consistently would reshape our footballing identity on the global stage.
Look at the age structure of the starting eleven. Yesterday, six of our players on the pitch at kick-off were between 20 and 26 years old. If we manage this generation properly – with smart squad planning, stable coaching, and a clear footballing identity – each of these players could realistically appear at three or even four World Cups. That is how national teams grow from occasional surprises into genuine fixtures of the tournament.
Youth, continuity, and a new national team culture
Having a young core is not enough on its own. Those players need continuity: in the tactical system, in the coaching staff, and in the roles they are asked to perform. Constantly changing direction after every setback is the biggest enemy of long-term success. If a group of 20-26-year-olds can grow together across several qualifying cycles, they build a shared memory of big nights, crises, comebacks – and yes, winning goals like the one crafted by Kenan and Orkun.
This continuity also reshapes the dressing-room culture. Veterans of multiple major tournaments learn how to manage pressure, how to handle the emotional weight of representing a country, and how to respond when a game like this starts to slip away. They become the anchors for every new generation that follows. Yesterday’s victory, in that sense, was not only about a ticket to a tournament; it was an investment in that culture.
Passion vs quality: the eternal balancing act
The Italy example underlines a crucial lesson: quality on paper never guarantees success. Passion without structure leads to chaos, but structure without passion leads to lifeless performances. The art of modern international football is finding the balance. Sweden and North Macedonia beat Italy in play-offs not because they had star-studded squads, but because they maximized their desire and built a tactical plan that amplified that fire.
Turkey must learn from both sides of this coin. Against Kosovo, we were confronted with an opponent burning with extra motivation rooted in politics and recognition. Matching that emotional level was non-negotiable. But simply running and fighting more was not enough; the solution arrived when we combined emotional intensity with technical calmness – pressing with conviction, but finishing actions with precision, as seen in the Kenan-Orkun goal.
Football as soft power on the pitch
Boniface’s “soft power” definition is not merely academic. You could see its reflection in every tackle, every chant, every flag in the stands in Pristina. Kosovo was not just trying to reach the next phase; it was trying to assert its existence. For Turkey, walking into that arena required empathy and strategic maturity. You must understand what the game means to your opponent without being consumed by it.
Winning such a match does more than fill a slot in a tournament bracket. It boosts your own international image, strengthens your football brand, and subtly shifts how your country is perceived far beyond the sport. When a team like Turkey regularly qualifies for World Cups and wins high-pressure play-offs away from home, it builds a reputation as a resilient, modern football nation – and that, too, is soft power, albeit of a different shade.
Kerem and the goal celebration debate
There was also a side note to the main story: the discussion around the goal and Kerem’s role in it. Watching the moment closely several times, the conclusion is rather clear: Kerem does not actually touch the ball, yet he celebrates as if he did. This kind of scene is hardly new in football. Strikers and wingers throughout history have often tried to “claim” deflected shots or borderline touches, sometimes out of instinct, sometimes from a desire to boost their personal statistics.
While it may irritate those who value absolute transparency, what matters far more is the collective result. Whether Kerem got the final touch or not changes nothing about the quality of the move constructed by Kenan and Orkun, nor does it alter the fact that the match turned on that precise action. Over time, if the team continues to win and players buy into the collective goal, these small debates tend to fade into the background.
Why the left flank is becoming Turkey’s main weapon
One of the most notable tactical trends in recent games has been the rise in influence of our left side. For the second match in a row, virtually all our reliable attacking patterns have been channeled through that wing. The interplay between the left-back, the wide forward, and the left-sided midfielder creates overloads, draws opponents out of shape, and opens corridors for late runs from central players like Orkun.
This is not accidental. When a national team finds a flank that works, it often becomes the backbone of their attacking system for years. Think of teams that built their play around a single side populated by technically gifted players, using that sector as the main outlet under pressure. Turkey appears to be moving in a similar direction. The key will be to maintain this strength while developing enough threat on the opposite flank to avoid predictability.
Turning this victory into a habit, not a memory
The task now is to transform nights like this from isolated memories into something routine. Winning a tense away play-off and punching a World Cup ticket must not remain a story told in nostalgic tones twenty years from now. With the expanded format, Turkey has both the opportunity and the responsibility to establish itself as a regular participant.
That requires planning beyond the next match: investing in youth academies, promoting players with high technical ceilings, and giving them international minutes as early as possible. The Kenan-Orkun synergy did not appear out of nowhere; it is the product of development, trust, and minutes on the pitch together. Replicating that process across all positions is how you build a sustainable national team.
In the end, this game against Kosovo will be remembered for many things: the political backdrop, the physical battle of the first half, the emotional stakes for the hosts. But from a Turkish perspective, it will sit in history above all as the night when the better footballing side finally emerged once they put the ball on the grass – and when the decisive blow came from the feet and minds of Kenan and Orkun, two players who may well define the next era of Turkish football.