Sabbir Hossain

Thierry Henry, Andres Iniesta, Kaka, Lionel Messi, Cristiano Ronaldo, or Wayne Rooney -- before the 2010 World Cup in South Africa, many of these stars were on the list of potential Golden Ball winners. Amid this constellation of talent, the name of an experienced Uruguayan striker was barely mentioned.

Across club football, he played 710 matches and scored 335 goals. In international football, he netted 31 times in 75 appearances for Argentina in their iconic sky-blue and white jersey. The one behind the numbers is Gonzalo Higuain, who lit up the pitch for European heavyweights like Real Madrid, Napoli, Juventus, Chelsea and AC Milan for years.

Alongside their performances on the pitch, certain images will remain etched in the hearts of football lovers forever.

In a country where football is not merely a game but a pulse of everyday life, he was once its brightest star.

The first FIFA World Cup to be held on African soil took place in South Africa, where the piercing buzz of vuvuzelas and the vibrant, distinctive celebrations of African supporters created an unforgettable spectacle.

The date was June 22, 1974. The Volksparkstadion in Hamburg played witness to a match layered with drama, politics, and a nerve-shredding test of will.

For any footballer, playing a World Cup final for their country is a lifelong dream. Even reaching the final twice -- let alone in consecutive tournaments -- for a single nation is an extraordinary feat. Yet football history witnessed something even rarer, truly unparalleled. Midfielder Luis Monti played in back-to-back World Cup finals -- but for two completely different countries!

The early 1990s. The skies over the Balkans were no longer blue, but choked with black smoke from relentless airstrikes. Sirens would halt games mid-play, and footballers’ boots were replaced by the heavy gear of soldiers. Croatia was no longer just a defined line on a map -- it had become the name of a blood-soaked struggle.

What may appear amusing or irrational to the casual observer often serves as a talisman of success for players and devoted fans alike. Superstition, in that sense, has become an inseparable thread in football’s aesthetic fabric.

June 21, 1970. The galleries of the Azteca Stadium in Mexico City roared like a sea of yellow and blue. Brazil, having torn apart Italy’s resolute defense, could already smell victory. The scoreboard read 3-1 in favor of the Selecao. There were still 20 minutes left on the clock in the final.

In the end, FIFA handed the responsibility to Mexico in 1983.

But what happened at the 1982 World Cup in Spain goes far beyond mere drama -- it was one of the most bizarre, unprecedented, and controversial episodes in football history, where a country’s prince walked onto the pitch to influence a referee’s decision.

The summer of 2006 in Germany was a time of transition. The reign of the nineties legends was drawing to a close, and world football was searching for a new icon. In Argentina, this search had been an obsession ever since the 1986 World Cup triumph. They were not simply waiting for a footballer -- they were waiting for a saviour in the mould of Diego Maradona.

Stepping onto the stage of the FIFA World Cup is a lifelong dream; to arrive for the first time and leave the world astonished is nothing short of heroic.

Although 22 editions of the World Cup have taken place, 21 finals have been held. There was no final match in the 1950 edition

Football is often called the beautiful game. But what unfolded on that night in 2006 at the Frankenstadion in Nuremberg, (now the Max-Morlock-Stadion) could hardly be described as beautiful.

Designers from seven countries submitted 53 proposals. The winning concept came from Italian sculptor Silvio Gazzaniga.

Football has seen many legends, but the way a dog from South London became part of the game's greatest drama remains a truly unique story.

No country has been more successful on the world stage than Brazil. From 1958 to 2002, the Selecao authored an epic of five world titles, with each chapter standing as a unique testament to footballing greatness.

Does the World Cup belong only to the big teams and superstar footballers? A glance through history suggests that the real drama often lies with sides that arrive with limited expectations -- or none at all.