Chapter 43: The Other Suker

"What a fantastic match! After 90 minutes of play, Zrinjski Mostar defeats Borac Banja Luka 2-0 away from home, securing their second consecutive win of the season!" "And in this game, the newly joined Suke performed exceptionally well—three assists in just two matches! He's become Zrinjski's undisputed pass-delivery machine!" "Congratulations to Zrinjski Mostar, and let's look forward to even better performances from the young Suke." The match ended. Zrinjski Mostar successfully secured an away win and took all three points. The match wasn't easy. Right from kickoff, they faced fierce physical challenges and defensive pressure from the opposition. But they managed to stay composed, breaking open spaces through clever positioning and passing combinations, eventually scoring the first goal. That goal laid the foundation for victory. For Suke, his three assists in two games fully demonstrated his ability and value to the team. It also proved that Head Coach Van Stoyak had a sharp eye for talent. "Well done!" Van Stoyak gave Suke a big hug again, as if to declare that this was his find. Suke's success was now tied to Van Stoyak. After all, nobody at the club believed Suke could contribute much. It was entirely Van Stoyak own decision. Now, facts proved that Van Stoyak was right. Three assists in two matches—those are impressive numbers. Moreover, Suke helped Zrinjski Mostar develop a new tactical system. Now, if Kosovic gets shut down, they have other options to change their formation. In other words, they've gained a safety net to make comebacks. After the game, Zrinjski Mostar immediately headed to the train station. They had just won on the road, taunted the home fans during the match, and Van Stoyak didn't want to risk any incidents. So he got everyone moving early. They made it to the train station safely and, under the "warm" farewells of the Borac Banja Luka fans, boarded their return train. "What a memorable place!" Suke muttered, though his expression showed clear disdain. Anyone who went through what he did would have a poor impression of the city. "We played really well today—great team performance," said goalkeeper Kisch cheerfully. This was the easiest game Kisch had played in a long time. With a solid backline and Suke and Modric leading the pressing and sweeping actions in midfield, the pressure on him at the goal line was greatly reduced. Kisch had a very enjoyable game. "Have you two ever considered joining the Bosnia national team? I can help you apply for citizenship." Kisch looked at Suk and Modric. If these two joined the national team, maybe they really could make a World Cup run. Modric bowed his head slightly, saying nothing—clearly rejecting the idea. Suke turned to look out the window. "It's really dark outside." Kisch gave the two an annoyed look. "If you don't want to, just say so. Why the drama?" To Suke, the idea of switching from Croatia to Bosnia made no sense. Croatia, after all, is a consistent performer in European football—not a superpower, but often good enough to reach the knockout stages of the World Cup. During the Davor Šuker era, Croatia even reached the World Cup semifinals. For their generation, the mission would be even tougher. The rhythmic clatter of the train wheels against the tracks began to sound like a lullaby. Drowsiness set in. One by one, the players drifted off. Suke, too, eventually fell asleep. When he woke up, the train had arrived at Mostar. "Everyone, make sure you have all your belongings—don't leave anything behind," Van Stoyak reminded them as he led the way off the train. Suke followed the team, Modric right behind him, in an orderly line to the bus that took them back to the training base. Suke grabbed his clothes to wash and headed to the showers. Just then, Skolk came running in, looking shocked. "Sarajevo lost! They lost!" Suke rolled his eyes. "So what? Everyone loses sometimes." Skolk waved his hands. "This is Sarajevo! They're the strongest team this season!" "What do you mean?" Suke asked, holding a laundry basin. Skolk went on excitedly, "Their starting defenders are all Bosnian internationals. In midfield, they have Meskapech and Torlist, who've played in the top five leagues. And don't forget last season's Best Rookie and Silver Boot winner—currently leading the scoring chart—Suker Mazic!" "Suker?" Suk paused. "Another Suker?" He thought to himself—Is this name really that common? Skolk laughed. "Yeah, thanks to Davor Šuker, a lot of people use the name Suke and Suker." "But the crazy part is—he's only 18 and already won the Silver Boot last season. He's pushing for the Golden Boot now. He's nearly 190 cm tall and built like a tank. Marsovic said even he couldn't hold his ground against Suker Mazic. That's how freakishly strong he is!" Hearing that this guy was 190 cm tall, Suk couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy. "If he's so great, how did they lose?" Suke snarked. "Guess he's not that strong after all!" "Well, they played in the Champions League. In the third round of the qualifiers, several key players got injured. They ended up being eliminated from the Champions League and then lost in the league too." The champion of the Bosnian Premier League gets a spot in the UEFA Champions League qualifiers. Before the group stage, there are three qualifying rounds—designed to give champions from lower-ranked European leagues a shot at entering the big stage. Sarajevo apparently made it to the third round this season but were knocked out and lost key players to injury—leading to their domestic defeat as well. But after the strong tests of the Champions League qualifiers, Sarajevo would only come back stronger. "Making it to the third round is already impressive." Even Modric, usually quiet, chimed in. "Even Dinamo Zagreb hasn't made it to the group stage of the Champions League." Croatia's league ranks higher than Bosnia's. And Dinamo Zagreb dominates their domestic league. But even they've struggled in Europe. Suke turned to Modric. "Luka, is Mazic really that good? How does he compare to me?" Suke clearly cared a lot about this namesake. Modric looked at Suke. "You have more talent." Suk smiled and gave a thumbs up. Then he happily ran off to do his laundry. Skolk looked at Modric, hesitated, and said, "You really think it's okay to lie to him like that?" Modric tilted his head. "I'm not lying. Suke hasn't even tapped into his full potential yet." "He's already playing so well," Skolk said. Modric replied, "Yes, but it's still not enough." He paused, then added, "You'll see one day—Suker Mazic is just a solo performer. His ability benefits only himself. But Suke is different. He can elevate the entire team's performance by multiples. We haven't seen the best of him yet." Skolk looked confused. He glanced at the small, cheerful Suke doing his laundry and found it hard to compare that image with the huge powerhouse he imagined Mazic to be. He gave up trying to understand it. After all, he was just a backup player—his goal now was simply to fight for a starting spot. The next day, Suke woke up early, drank a full bottle of milk, and started training. His training became even more intense. Even if he pretended not to care, he was seriously annoyed by that 190 cm, goal-scoring version of himself with similar name. Tall, strong, and scoring like crazy. Meanwhile, Suke had to drink milk every day, eat tons of nutrients, and do everything possible to grow. But that's life. He had no choice but to keep pushing himself and develop other strengths. If he couldn't win through sheer power, he'd go around it—focusing on passing, organizing, and assisting. Silver Boot last season? Golden Boot this season? In your dreams! Even if Suke didn't score a single goal, he'd feed enough assists to teammates to win them the title. Anyone could win the Golden Boot—except that guy! Suke thought bitterly. He was also a little down. It had been a whole week, and his strength attribute still hadn't increased. Stuck at 61—no movement at all. Just two more points—that's all he needed to improve his shooting! So frustrating. The only consolation was that after the match against Borac Banja Luka, he drew four more Recovery Cards. Last week, he used four. This week, the system gave him four more. He couldn't even use them all. In fact, he now had seven. They were practically being handed out like candy. But they were incredibly useful. During halftime, using one would instantly put him in Supercharged Mode Plus—and help prevent injuries. He could even use them in training to recover to full stamina. Suke jumped to his feet and resumed training. Train! Train like crazy! As long as he didn't drop dead from it, nobody could stop him from going full beast mode!