Chapter 15: A Beautiful Goal

Modrić arrived at the stadium as promised, though he stood on the outskirts of the crowd, in a less populated area. He didn't like chaotic places, and this spot provided a better view of the entire field. He felt it was his duty to accept Suke's invitation. Suke was Modrić's only friend in Bosnia and Herzegovina. Modrić's shy and proud nature made it hard for him to integrate into his surroundings or the team. He wasn't good at socializing, didn't know how to express himself, and never took the initiative to strike up conversations. There was also a hint of arrogance—he thought the entire Bosnian league was awful, with outdated tactics and poor player quality. That's why he genuinely considered Suke, someone who had developed great chemistry with him, to be a true "friend." At this moment, the players from both teams were already in their respective halves. Mostar Wanderers were to kick off. Suke and Mlinar stood at the center circle. At that time, the kickoff rule required the ball to roll forward into the opponent's half before it could be passed back. This required two players to complete. The rule changed in 2016, eliminating this requirement, and now kickoffs are often done solo by the center forward. Watching Suke, with one foot on the ball at the center circle, Modrić couldn't help but find it amusing. Modrić was already considered scrawny by Bosnian standards, but Suke was practically at a child's level of physicality, creating a stark visual contrast with the other players. Modrić had always struggled in the Bosnian Premier League due to his physical limitations. He was curious how Suke, even smaller than him, managed to cope with it. As the referee blew the whistle, the match officially began. Suke gently nudged the ball forward on a diagonal, and Mlinar immediately passed it back. The two of them began running, one ahead, one behind. Suke dashed directly to the opposing back line, while Mlinar dropped back for support. As soon as Suke reached the defensive line, Unović came up to mark him tightly. Unović leaned into Suke with his body and even let out a creepy laugh. Suke turned to give him a disgusted look—was this guy mentally okay? Without engaging, Suke began running. Once he started, he wouldn't stop. He made continuous lateral runs—not fast, but relentless. At first, Unović managed to keep up, but soon he had to hand him off to another center-back, Mate, as Suke moved into his area. Meanwhile, Mostar Wanderers continued to patiently pass the ball. Modrić nodded slightly from the sidelines. The tempo was right. As for Suke—just as Modrić thought—he was using constant movement to compensate for his lack of physical strength. Modrić was quietly pleased—they were thinking the same way. That's exactly how Modrić dealt with the same issue. But the real test was about to come. The ball reached Mlinar's feet, while Suke continued his lateral run, increasing his pace. Suddenly, he made a sharp 90-degree cut forward. It was a quick burst, instantly shaking off Unović's defense. Unfortunately, the pass didn't come, and the run was wasted. Suk shook his head and jogged back, expressionless. On the sidelines, Modrić punched a barrier. "Why didn't he pass?!" He muttered through gritted teeth. The defensive line had already shifted left, and Suke had cut right—if the ball had been played as a through pass behind the defender, it could've been a one-on-one with the keeper. If he had been the passer, Suke's intelligent run wouldn't have gone to waste. Soon, Modrić realized this wasn't an isolated incident. Suke's timing and awareness of runs were so sharp it was almost scary. He constantly floated along the back line, bolting into open spaces once he lost his marker. Modrić even found himself reacting late a few times, realizing Suke had made a run only after the fact. "This guy..." Modrić blinked, a bit stunned, but also intrigued. He was reminded of his own frustration at club level—how teammates couldn't keep up with his thinking. But now, he was struggling to keep up with Suke's. "There it is!" Modrić clenched his fists, whispering excitedly, as if he were the one about to make the pass. But then Suke suddenly slowed down during a run. "Too short!" Modrić grabbed his head. "What a waste of such a brilliant run! Can't he pass properly?!" He was furious with Mlinar. On the field, Mostar Wanderers' wave of attacks had Leotar completely on the back foot. But their disciplined defense was holding up—for now. Unović was glaring at Suke, eyes bloodshot. Once again, he couldn't contain this energetic little guy. Suke's agility played a part, but more importantly, his timing for making forward runs was just too good—it was hard to match. Luckily for Leotar, Mostar Wanderers' passing quality wasn't high enough to capitalize on Suke's runs. Yet Suke never showed any dissatisfaction—he remained intensely focused. "Mlinar's having trouble passing now," Suke thought. He knew Mlinar well. His passing usually wasn't this poor—the drop in quality was likely due to the opposition's aggressive pressing. In other words, Mlinar was under too much pressure when on the ball. Sure enough, when Mlinar received the ball again, two Leotar players instantly closed in from both sides. Caught off guard, Mlinar panicked. He glanced to the sides—no passing angles. Looking forward, he saw Suke had dropped back and was pointing to the ground, signaling for a pass. Mlinar passed forward decisively. Suke received it, lightly tapping the ball with his right foot and circling over it with his left. He dropped his left shoulder, feinting to the left. Unović bit on the fake, stepping left. In the next second, Suke poked the ball right, and as Unović shifted awkwardly, he lunged out a leg—desperate to stop the attack by any means. But Suke executed a sharp stop with a drag-back move. Unović, off balance, fell backward with legs splayed like a "7". "Brilliant!" Modrić whispered in delight. That feint combo was not only stylish but also dodged a potential foul and even floored the defender. Once Unović hit the ground, Suke calmly passed to the right. All eyes were still on Suke, no one noticed Mlinar making a forward run. Mlinar raced in from the left, pulling the defense with him. Suke followed behind, slightly delayed, but with eyes fixed forward. The defense collapsed inward as Mlinar received the pass and laid it off wide to winger Maslozic. Maslozic met the ball and one-timed it toward the center. It was a perfect cutback pass—landing right in front of Suke, who was completely unmarked. Suke gently pushed the ball forward. The opposing goalkeeper charged out. Suke feinted left, baiting the keeper to shift that way, then quickly toed the ball right. It slipped past the keeper's left ankle and into the net. 21st minute—Mostar Wanderers scored first. The stadium fell silent. The townsfolk of Mostar stared wide-eyed. That fluid team play, that stunning goal—was that really their team? Even Leotar's coaches were speechless. Was this really the team known only for basic forward passes? And that short number 9... he was passing now? ROAR!!!!!!! The crowd erupted. Just over a hundred people, but louder than usual. They cheered the beautiful goal. They cheered the seamless teamwork. When Mlinar looked cornered, they thought the chance was lost. But he passed forward, and Suke's series of fakes floored the defender before setting up Mlinar's run. That moment marked a turning point in Mostar Wanderers' attacking play. Mlinar pulled the defense right, then passed wide. Maslozic made the unselfish cutback to Suke. And Suke's finish was the icing on the cake. A truly perfect goal—so perfect that even Suke and his teammates could hardly believe it. "Well done!" Coach Oripe raised his hands in celebration on the sideline. "Beautiful! Beautiful! That was damn beautiful!" It wasn't just about scoring—the play itself was a thing of beauty. For Oripe, a die-hard Arsenal fan, it brought immense joy. His team could play beautiful football—just like Wenger's Arsenal. Of course, there was some luck involved. But who cares? That goal was gorgeous—one of the top of the season. Leotar, on the other hand, looked shell-shocked.