When he was just 14, Niko Sigur announced to his father, Tony, that he would play for Canada at the 2026 World Cup.
It was 2018 and Tony was sitting in the family living room in Burnaby, B.C. The news of Canada, Mexico, and the United States’ successful bid to host the 2026 tournament flashed on the television when Niko walked into the room.
And in the casual and confident way teenagers can speak sometimes – as if they’re already sure of their own destiny, even if they really don’t know the world – he proclaimed: “I’m going to be playing for Canada in that World Cup.”
“I really hope that you do,” Tony simply responded.
There were no more big pronouncements after that, just a constant sound.
Thwack…thwack.
It was sound of a foot striking a ball, then the sound of the ball hitting the wall.
That sound echoed through the empty schoolyard of Kitchener Elementary School in Burnaby on many nights in the two years following Sigur’s prediction.
Silhouetted under a few outdoor lights, Sigur would move around the pavement in front of a wall, his head following the sound the ball made. He’d look down at his feet when he struck the ball –thwack – then looking up, he followed the ball as it rebounded off the wall – thwack – and adjusted his body instinctively to accept the ball and hit it again.
As a boy, Sigur played for local teams Cliff Avenue, Mountain United FC, and the Vancouver Whitecaps. Tony proudly shows photos of his son playing for the Whitecaps academy in a youth tournament against Barcelona and a young Fermín López.
But on so many nights six years ago, seemingly alone on his own, there was just Sigur, the ball, and the sound.
Thwack…thwack.
The more Sigur struck the ball the more the echoes built, bouncing off the walls around him, building the kind of mediative cadence and tempo perhaps only familiar to young boxers and the speed bag, or young hockey players and their stick and the puck, or a young pianist and their scales.
Thwack…thwack.
The ball and the wall and the trance of the soccer dreamer. But Sigur wasn’t alone. Tony was there, too. The son said he wanted to work on his own, but his dad insisted on coming, often standing behind a fence to quietly film him on his phone.
Thwack…thwack.
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Sigur is like so many Croatian boys, and his family is like so many Croatian families: deeply proud to be Croatian.
Davor Šuker, Mario Mandžukić, Ivan Perišić, Ivan Rakitić, and Luka Modric are names stitched together so tightly to Croatia’s identity, like the famous red and white checkered pattern the national team has often worn so gloriously on soccer’s greatest international stages.
Sigur watched the Croatian national team as a boy and wanted that glory for Canada.
“When I heard the [World Cup] announcement, I was like, ‘I needed to be on that team. I needed to step on the field wearing the Canada jersey.’”
But after Sigur was released from the Whitecaps academy in 2018 – a moment he admits years later bothered him – and his Canadian opportunities appeared limited, it was the Croatian diaspora in Vancouver, Toronto and beyond that lifted him up.
Croatian Canadians who were told about Sigur’s abilities, or watched him play soccer, or its indoor cousin, futsal, guided him toward playing opportunities at York University and Vaughan Azzurri Soccer Club in North Toronto in 2021, and then a year later sent him to Slovenia for his first professional opportunity in Europe in 2022.
Sigur’s skills are undeniable, even to someone who might be watching him for the first time. He deftly controls the ball and intuitively understands passing and moving. In one game he can perform confidently in defence and in the next game move into midfield and become a clever facilitator.
But everyone who meets Sigur isn’t just struck by what he can do with the ball. It’s how he looks at the ball, the game, and the world around him. With his clean, high fade haircut and his boyish looks, Sigur looks like countless young, confident athletes. But his gaze is striking: serious, focused, and intense, but not antagonistic. He looks like he’s always ready to accept the ball, accept the challenge, and accept the weight of his own high standards.
Sigur looks like a Croatian soccer player.
For many Croatians, soccer is not just a sport. It exemplifies the best of what the country can offer the world, and not simply through a style of play, but also in comportment.
Croatians don’t just play the game, they live it by drawing on something deeply connected to the country’s history: a quiet will with a fixed purpose, to outwork, to outperform, to outlast, and to win.
But even those in the Croatian-Canadian community who have met Sigur are struck by the heft of his presence.
“It’s incredible. And the more time you see him in these competitive environments and pick his brain you’re like, ‘Wow, I thought I had like a good mentality when I played soccer, but I’m light years away from this kid,’” said former University of Toronto player Mario Kovacevic, who became a friend and mentor to Sigur when he moved from Burnaby to Toronto in 2021.
“I still get nervous in pickup games, you know? And this kid is like walking out and killing guys.”
And in 2023, when Sigur moved from Slovenia to Hajduk Split – one of Croatia’s biggest clubs, with one of Europe’s most passionate fanbases – a different kind of attention emerged around him: that perhaps he, a boy who spent nights during the COVID-19 pandemic kicking a ball against the side of a school in Burnaby, would wear his own checkered jersey and sing Croatia’s national anthem, Lijepa naša domovino (Our Beautiful Homeland).
“I wish he would have played for Croatia because the national team does mean so much to Croatians,” said Tomislav Zadro from Toronto, who leaned on friendly connections in Slovenia and Croatia to help Sigur find a pathway to a professional career in Europe.
Sigur played for Croatia’s under-21 team, and quickly became an established starter for Hajduk Split, but when Jesse Marsch and Canada’s men’s national team came calling in August 2024, Sigur already knew his destiny.
“I’m very thankful for everything they’ve done for me and what the Croatian community did for me in Vancouver, Toronto, and now in Croatia. But I felt that I’m Canadian Croatian,” Sigur said this past March during Canada Soccer’s World Cup media day, in front of bright lights and cameras, wearing his own two-toned red, No. 23 Canadian jersey.
“I was born here, I’ve lived here, and I played soccer here all my life. So, I feel like I owe it to the country of Canada, wearing this jersey.”
In less than two years, Sigur has made 17 appearances for Canada, including starting every game at the 2025 Gold Cup. Marsch leans heavily on Sigur’s versatility; during the Gold Cup, Sigur started the first two games at right back and, when usual starting right back Alistair Johnston returned, Sigur started in central midfield. As Johnston now continues to work his way back from a hamstring injury, Sigur has continued to play right back for Canada.
“Obviously, I was coming in [to Canada] as a young player, so I needed to prove myself,” Sigur said. “But over time, the communication [from Marsch] has been very clear that if there’s space at right back, we can use you there. If there’s space in the midfield, in a lower role, we’ll use you there, even as like a No. 10 [in central midfield]. So, I’m just ready for what he needs of me and there’s really no complaints. This is the national team. I’m just happy to be here.”
In October 2025, Sigur made a costly error that gifted Australia a game-winning goal in an international friendly in Montreal. Marsch consoled Sigur immediately after and then tasked him with marking former Liverpool and current Bayern Munich star Luis Díaz four days later when Canada faced Colombia in New Jersey. Díaz was subbed off after 60 ineffective minutes.
Sigur is not yet a finished product, but he’s always known what he wanted. He spoke it into existence, and that was it. The foundation was laid with the ball slamming against a wall.
But it’s not the action alone that gives him purpose. After Sigur said he would play for Canada at home at the 2026 World Cup, he made an agreement with his dad.
“My dad always told me that if you do this now, if you keep going, that it’s going to pay off,” he said. “Because what do we have, really? It’s the mentality. Of course, quality is important, but in today’s game, if you don’t have the mentality, you won’t go very far.”
That’s what all those nights years ago outside Kitchener Elementary School were about: Sigur proving himself right.
“Growing up, my dream was to inspire younger Canadian kids that they can play at the highest level and that they can play in Europe and they can play for the national team,” he said. “And when they play for Canada, that they’re never an underdog, that this team is serious, that we can beat anybody. And I just hope that in this tournament we can enforce that even more from what we’ve already done, what the guys have done before I even played for this national team.
“So, yeah, inspiring the younger generation, the existing generation to push on and to not set limits on what Canada can do as a footballing nation.”
