The scoreline is not the story here. Germany will be heavy favourites against Curaçao on June 13, but the fixture has already made history before a ball is kicked.
With a population of roughly 150,000, Curaçao are the smallest nation ever to reach a World Cup — a Caribbean island the size of a mid-tier town walking out against four-time world champions.
A record that reframes the tournament
The previous record-holder for smallest qualifier was Iceland, whose population sits north of 350,000. Curaçao have less than half that. The expanded 48-team format was sold partly on widening the global game, and this is the most vivid proof yet that it has.
That context does not promise a competitive 90 minutes. It does explain why a group game between mismatched sides has drawn attention well beyond the two nations involved. Curaçao have already won the only contest that the formbook said they could not.
It also speaks to the wider experiment of this tournament. The jump from 32 teams to 48 opened the field to nations that never had a realistic route before, and Curaçao are the clearest case study of what that change actually delivers in practice.
Germany's job is to be ruthless
For Germany, the assignment is professional rather than perilous. Julian Nagelsmann's side will expect to dominate possession, stretch a compact Curaçao block, and convert the chances that volume creates.
The risk for a favourite in a fixture like this is complacency, not the opponent. Germany have been beaten by lesser sides on opening days before, and a slow, frustrated start against a packed defence is the one way this becomes uncomfortable. The expectation, and the model's clear lean, is a comfortable German win and a healthy goal difference to bank early in the group.
Goal difference matters more than usual this year. With eight third-placed teams advancing, the margin of victory can decide who survives the cut.
What Curaçao bring
Curaçao's squad leans on players with professional pedigree across the Dutch and North American leagues — the legacy of deep football ties to the Netherlands. They are better drilled than their population suggests, and their qualification was no fluke of an expanded field.
Their realistic aim is containment: keep the score respectable, frustrate Germany for as long as possible, and treat the occasion as the reward it is. Anything they take from this group — a goal, a point, a moment — writes a new line in a remarkable story.
The practical plan will be familiar to any heavy underdog. Sit in a low block, deny the space between the lines, force Germany wide, and hope to steal something on a set piece or a rare break. Whether that holds against this calibre of opponent for a full 90 minutes is the only real question of the night.
The bigger picture
Germany should win, probably handsomely, and the result will read as routine. But routine is the wrong lens. A nation of 150,000 has reached the sport's biggest stage and earned a fixture against its aristocracy.
Whatever the final score, Curaçao's presence on June 13 is the most direct argument the new format can make for itself. The smallest nation in World Cup history is here — and that, not the result, is the headline.
