Chapter 67: Bešić's Family Dinner

Words : 1258 Updated : Sep 19th, 2025

Maksimir Stadium was as quiet as a chapel. Dinamo Zagreb fans stared blankly at the scoreboard. 4:1! For 90 minutes, they had endured the fierce onslaught of Lokomotiva Zagreb. Watching the warriors who once wore their beloved blue now donning the opponent's colors and ruthlessly trampling over their precious home turf filled them with sorrow and rage. Damn the Mostečić brothers!These two idiots had turned Croatia's top club into a disgrace. They had to swallow their pride and accept a home defeat. Yes—Bešić failed to bring victory to the team. Maybe he had too little time. Maybe the problems ran too deep. But this Dinamo Zagreb was unrecognizable. They had lost their fighting spirit and courage. Their offense was timid, their defense fragile, and their faith utterly shattered. A humiliating loss on the eve of Christmas. Not only did they lose a city derby, but they also gave up a precious home win—making their season's prospects extremely precarious. Sitting in the stadium, looking around— Suker could almost hear the sound of breaking hearts. Dinamo Zagreb's fans had lowered their once-proud heads; some were even crying. Faced with such a disaster, such a fall from grace, the pain in their hearts was unbearable. Even Modrić had lost his usual vitality. His eyes were fixed on the field, fists clenched on his thighs. Suker wasn't feeling as deeply, but Modrić clearly was.The humiliation cut him deeply. "Let's go. There's no point watching this anymore." Modrić stood up and left. He could no longer bear to watch this dismal match. Dinamo Zagreb had no heart to fight back in adversity. Everyone looked limp and spiritless. It made Modrić feel ashamed. This wasn't the Dinamo Zagreb of his memory.This wasn't Croatia's famed "Blues Citizen." The game broke countless hearts. Modrić and Suker stood at the stadium's exit, surrounded by other fans. They all turned their attention to the big screen playing Bešić's post-match interview. When asked about the match, Bešić nonchalantly said the team "needed adjustments." But when talking about the season's goal, his words truly crushed the fans. "Our goal this season is to avoid relegation." "Call me back during the winter transfer window. I can help the team. You know my ability!" Inside the car, Dinamo Zagreb's head coach Bešić was driving, with Modrić and Suker in the backseat. Modrić was fuming and ranting, while Suker was confused—How had he ended up in the coach's car? But sensing the mood, Suker sensibly stayed quiet. "Luka, don't rush. Wait until the season ends," Bešić said calmly while driving."Now isn't the time. Coming back now wouldn't help. Once I've cleaned up this mess, you can return." Modrić sat back angrily, arms crossed. Through the rearview mirror, Bešić saw Modrić's sulking and shook his head with a sigh. Then he noticed Suker—those bright eyes full of mischief and cleverness. A smart kid. Bešić wasn't unfamiliar with Suker—Modrić had written about him in countless letters. At first, just a few mentions. But recently, entire letters were filled with stories about Suker—their chemistry on the field, how they complemented each other. From those words, Bešić had formed an impression of Suker. He even looked up Bosnian league tapes to study him. Yes—he was interested in Suker. "You're Suker, right?" Bešić suddenly asked. Suker nodded enthusiastically."Hello, Mr. Bešić! My name is Suker. I play as a center forward for Zrinjski Mostar. In 20 matches I've scored 3 goals and made 9 assists. I'm good at passing, making runs, organizing plays. Luka and I work very well together." He nudged Modrić. Still annoyed, Modrić nonetheless nodded in agreement. Suker went on, boldly:"Don't be fooled by my height—I'm really fast! Even by Croatian league standards, I'm fast! And I'll only get faster. As for my height..." Bešić gave him a strange look as the boy proudly pitched himself like he was at a job interview, not a dinner visit. Soon, they arrived at Bešić's home. His wife came out to greet them warmly, hugging Modrić and shaking Suker's hand. "Hello, Madam! I'm Suker, Luka's teammate. Sorry to trouble you this late," Suker said politely. Bešić's wife looked at him in surprise."You're the most well-mannered boy I've seen your age." "Thank you! I just spoke from the heart," Suker replied with an innocent smile. He knew the trick—compliment a woman's appearance and mean it. It never failed. Suker used it often. Bešić's wife was delighted. She took both boys inside. "Don't be shy. You're Luka's good friend, so you're our friend too." While she cooked in the kitchen, Suker jumped in to help—serving dishes, chopping vegetables, sneaking bites, and tossing out flattering words. His sunny, cheerful personality livened up the evening. Bešić, in high spirits, drank a few extra glasses. After a full meal, the couple walked the boys to the door. "Thanks for the hospitality," Suker said politely. Bešić's wife patted Suker's head fondly."You're like a little grown-up." Modrić nodded to Bešić."Coach, we'll be going now." Bešić nodded and watched them leave. As their figures faded into the distance, his wife suddenly said,"What a pitiful child." "You mean Luka? I'll bring him back in half a season." But she shook her head and sighed."I meant the other one." The return trip was quiet. Modrić was still upset, planning how he'd prove himself once back with Dinamo Zagreb. Suker was quiet too, pondering his future. When Modrić's loan ended, he'd definitely return to Dinamo.But what about him? From how Bešić acted, it didn't seem like he was particularly interested in Suker. Despite his efforts to hint and present himself, Bešić showed little sign of being impressed. "We have to win the league this season!" Suker clenched his fist and whispered to himself. Only by winning the title could they qualify for the Champions League qualifiers. And then, Suker could draw some high-level cards in the system. If he drew good cards, he'd have the strength to lead the team even without Modrić. After the family dinner at Bešić's, nearly a month passed before Suker and Modrić saw each other again. Modrić stayed with his family. Suker returned to the orphanage—it was too far to keep traveling back and forth. During this time, Suker had no matches and no opportunities to draw new cards. So, he focused fully on training. With a stockpile of over 30 stamina recovery cards, thanks to the 20 matches he'd played, he trained without restraint. He'd push himself to the limit every day, then recover using a card. From morning till night—nonstop training. Two months flew by. Finally, it was time to return. Suker went to say goodbye to the old Oriest and to Dikamoći. Both were reluctant to see him go. Despite his noisiness, he brought energy to the orphanage. The kids loved him—he played ball with them, bought them snacks, and quickly became a favorite. But everyone knew he had his own path. Suker wasn't sentimental—he left decisively. Since Modrić still had half a month with his family, Suker traveled alone. Same route as before:Train from Zagreb to Sarajevo, then a transfer to Mostar. January 30 — after two months away, Suker returned

Chapter 67: Bešić's Family Dinner

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