Chapter 54: Suffocating Pressure!

"Modrić! The genius midfielder from Croatia, his performance in this match has been phenomenal!" "He's scored two goals by himself, completely putting Sarajevo on the back foot." The fans and commentators focused on the goals. But for the head coaches of both sides, while Modrić's performance was certainly impressive, equally troublesome was the player wearing number 99—Suke. Sarajevo's head coach, Laksvić, wore a deeply grim expression. Their build-up from the back had run into serious problems. Facing Zrinjski Mostar's high pressing, the team as a whole looked extremely sluggish. Although players like Torlist and Meskapeć were certainly talented, they were totally unaccustomed to this kind of fierce, fast-paced pressing and interception. This was the biggest issue of the match. The key lay in how to relieve the pressure on Torlist and Meskapeć, and how to create forward passing lanes for them. Coach Laksvić suddenly sprang up, shouting toward the pitch: "Tizemanči, Djakfervić—both of you wingers, drop deeper to receive the ball, pull their midfield apart!" Hearing the shout, Van Stoyak glanced over at the opposing bench and thought to himself: Fast reaction, I'll give him that. But they were already two goals ahead—momentum was in their favor. However, there was one problem: Their stamina was beginning to decline. High pressing is a physically demanding tactic, requiring constant running and harrying from the players. At this stage, many players were beginning to slow down, including Suke and Modrić. Van Stoyak also stood and shouted: "Everyone drop back, switch to defense from now on!" Given their waning energy, protecting the lead and taking the advantage into the second half was the priority. Zrinjski Mostar began to fall back and focus on defending, narrowing their formation. At the same time, Sarajevo finally found some breathing room to move the ball. Now, Sarajevo were in a panic—they had to score. At the very least, they needed to pull one goal back. Otherwise, they would be completely on the back foot in the second half. With Torlist and Meskapeć now freed from immediate pressure, they began to distribute the ball more effectively and organize attacks. Torlist would occasionally make forward runs, but mostly they tried to exploit the height and strength of striker Suker Mazic. 43 minutes in. Only two minutes left in the half. Zrinjski Mostar's players were visibly fatigued, and under a storm of Sarajevo attacks, they were really starting to suffer. Football is sometimes like a turn-based game. When one team exhausts itself attacking, it needs to regroup, and the other team—full of desperation—will go on the offensive. That's exactly the situation for Sarajevo. They were squeezing out every last drop of energy to get a goal before halftime. Torlist and Meskapeć combined in a wall-pass that finally broke through Zrinjski's backline. When the ball reached Torlist, he didn't even look like he wanted to pass—he charged straight ahead with the ball. Mashović and Hačić were both retreating. But as Torlist got closer and closer, Hačić decided they couldn't backpedal anymore. "I got him!" Hačić shouted as he surged forward. Just then, Torlist chipped the ball past the two center-backs. It soared behind them— Suker Mazic made a perfect run and slid in for a finish. The ball snuck through Zrinjski keeper Kish's legs and into the net. Huff! Huff! Huff! Huff! Suker Mazic gasped for breath, and as he looked up and saw the ball hit the net, it was like his heart took a direct punch. He flipped up off the ground and roared toward the stands, letting all the pressure burst out. ROAR!!!!!!! "GOAL!! Suker Bazic! He capitalized on that one golden chance and pulled one back for Sarajevo!" "Just before the end of the first half, Sarajevo cuts the deficit—they're still in this!" On the Zrinjski Mostar bench, heads shook in resignation. That goal wasn't so much a brilliant finish by Suker Mazic as it was a perfectly timed and placed pass by Torlist. Still, credit to Suker Mazic for putting it away. As the first half ended, Sarajevo finally managed to claw one back. And with that goal, halftime arrived. Sarajevo's players trudged off the field, gasping for breath. Though Zrinjski's players were also exhausted, attackers generally spend less energy than defenders. Defending requires constant reactions, pressure, and awareness—making it much more tiring. If Zrinjski were this tired, then Sarajevo's condition must be even worse. Back in the locker room, Sarajevo's players slumped to the ground. "Damn it! Why are they so hard to play against?" "Kosović was just a decoy—the real threats are Modrić and that Suke guy." "We can't build anything from the back—their pressing is brutal." "The wingers need to drop back and open up passing lanes for the midfield." They all chimed in with opinions, but deep down, they were anxious. If the first half was that hard—how would they survive the second? Suker Mazic lay flat on the ground, sweat pouring down his face. This was the toughest match he'd ever played. He had done so much off-ball running, but without that movement, he never got a chance on the ball. He was frustrated—being made to run like a puppet on strings. Suker Mazic had always considered himself the best among his peers, but compared to Modrić and that other Suke in this game—they had outshone him completely. Especially considering they had shut down Torlist and Meskapeć—not just neutralized them, but dominated them. The thought gnawed at him. He slowly sat up and turned to say: "Can you guys give me more aerial chances in the second half?" He didn't want to be shown up—especially not by two guys his own age. Tizemanči replied with a sigh: "We'll try... but even getting the ball forward is a struggle." He was feeling a little defeated inside. They were playing far too passively, and had no real solution or counter-strategy. Even the Sarajevo coaching staff couldn't come up with a solid plan. Zrinjski's pressing was like a noose around their throats—suffocating. On the other side, Zrinjski Mostar's locker room was much more relaxed. Coach Van Stoyak praised their first-half performance, then pointed out a few problems. After summing things up, he said: "Second half—we stick to the high pressing." "Suke," he turned to the boy, "can you still run in the second half?" Suke had been the most energetic player in the first half, constantly moving across the pitch. "Absolutely," Suke replied immediately. Van Stajak saw the steady breathing and nodded. "Good. But let me know if you can't go on." Suke nodded again. No chance he'd give up now—he was planning to unleash a secret weapon. Suke used a stamina recovery card. Instantly, a cool sensation washed over his body—fatigue vanished. His fitness and mental state returned to peak form. Suke licked his lips. Now the second half would be his stage. "Sarajevo spent the whole first half under heavy pressure. They couldn't adapt to Zrinjski Mostar's high pressing at all. That goal just before halftime was a small relief, but I'm not sure Sarajevo realizes—Zrinjski Mostar are even more dangerous in the second half!" Because of Suke, Basodachi paid close attention to Zrinjski Mostar. He had even seen an interesting data point: Zrinjski's second-half intensity increases significantly. While the opposing side suffers massive fatigue, Zrinjski relies on Modrić and Suke's abundant energy to break down defenses—and kill off the match. He was eager to see whether Zrinjski would once again live up to the numbers. Halftime ended. The players returned to the field. Suke bounced onto the pitch, occasionally performing huge leaps—like he was hyping himself up. The Sarajevo players were stunned. They were running on fumes, yet this little firecracker was still full of energy—how did this guy have so much stamina? Or more precisely—what was up with his energy levels?! Suke's early movements alone put huge psychological pressure on the opposition. In a high-stress game like this, even tiny details can be magnified—let alone Suke's exaggerated warm-up antics. Standing in his own half, Suke turned to Modrić and said: "Once we kick off, I'll charge in—you follow up." Modrić was tired too. No matter how inhuman his recovery rate was, it couldn't match Suke's. That's why Suke told him just to support—because he was going to wreck havoc right from the kickoff.