You know that feeling when you walk into a bar, the jukebox is blaring some 80s classic, and the regulars are already arguing over who’s going to win the next big game? That’s exactly what’s brewing for Novalja versus Crikvenica this Saturday at Igralište Cissa-Straško—a match that, for fans of the Croatian Third NL - Istok, might as well be the local version of Rocky versus Apollo. Two teams limping into fight night, both nursing recent bruises, both desperate to flip the script, and both with enough history to make you believe that anything can still happen, even with a couple of flat tires.

Let’s start with the landscape—because context, like in every great story, is king. Novalja rolls into this one stuck in the mid-table mud, 9th place, neither drowning nor swimming, but definitely treading water aggressively. Crikvenica, meanwhile, is… Well, let’s just say if the Third NL were a Game of Thrones map, they’d be fighting off White Walkers near the bottom, languishing at 14th and casting nervous glances at the trapdoor to oblivion. There’s something beautiful about desperation sports, isn’t there? When every point feels like fire.

If you didn’t catch their last few episodes, here’s the highlight reel: Novalja, whose attack lately has been as elusive as a good Adam Sandler drama, got blanked out 0-2 by Jadran Poreč last time out, after momentarily lighting up the stage with a 3-0 thrashing of Nehaj. But that was sandwiched by a brutal “thanks for nothing” 0-4 pasting at the hands of Pazinka. So, in their last three, they’ve scored goose eggs twice and conceded six. Not exactly the form that inspires grand tales, unless you’re writing a tragedy.

Crikvenica, on the other hand, is channeling their inner soccer version of “Waiting for Godot”—two nil-nil draws in the last two, bookended by a 0-4 loss at Pomorac. Their attack is missing, presumed kidnapped, but at least their defense has been tighter than a locked Netflix account. In their last three, they’ve averaged zero goals for, zero goals against in those draws, then the wheels fell off in Pomorac. But if you’re a fan of gritty, backs-to-the-wall football, Crikvenica’s current incarnation is your kind of team.

So what does this mean heading into Saturday’s showdown? To paraphrase “The Wire,” nobody’s clean, but somebody’s gotta win—if only by surviving longer than the other. Novalja, with their home crowd, could try to channel their inner underdog spirit, hoping to recreate their one recent bright spot against Nehaj, but with their attack sputtering, the pressure falls squarely on their midfield generals to create anything resembling chaos. Look for young dynamo Luka Perković—if the kid gets space to run, he can force openings. But Novalja’s weakness (the leaky defense) will be tested by Crikvenica’s more cautious, counter-attacking setup, especially if captain Marin Tomić decides that this is the day he finally lights the fuse.

Tactically, this has all the subtlety of an old-school Premier League brawl circa 1996—think Wimbledon vs. Coventry, lots of direct play, no-nonsense defending, and a midfield that looks more like a construction site at rush hour. Neither team has shown much in the way of flair recently, but here’s the rub: Novalja’s best hope is to blindside Crikvenica early, get the crowd on their feet, and ride any momentum for dear life. Crikvenica? Diabolical patience, waiting for Novalja to overextend, then snatching a goal on the counter. If you’re a tactical purist, maybe steer clear—if you love chaos, this might be your Mona Lisa.

As for what’s at stake: for Novalja, it’s about proving they belong in the conversation, pushing up towards the safety of mid-table and maybe, just maybe, dreaming bigger if they can ignite a run. For Crikvenica, it’s existential. Lose, and they’re staring at a winter of teeth-chattering anxiety, turning every remaining match into a survival scrap. Win, and the clouds part, at least for a week.

Predictions? Like asking who’d win in a ‘Die Hard’ bar fight: both teams are battered, but Novalja at home should have just enough edge—call it 1-0, from a scrappy set piece or a bit of individual brilliance. Just don’t expect a fireworks show.

So, grab your scarf, settle in, and remember: some matches aren’t about beauty or brilliance. Sometimes it’s about seeing who wants it more. And in a league where every game matters, Saturday’s dogfight might be the one that sparks a season. Or at least, gives the regulars something to argue about for another week.