Chapter 72: The Revenge Battle of Sarajevo!

March 12th, in the town of Mostar, at the Zrinjski Stadium. Even after the winter break, the townspeople's enthusiasm for football remained high. Mostar Zrinjski's impressive performance had filled the local residents with pride. Thanks to the team's strong form, the town was frequently featured in national Bosnian media. Journalists regularly came for interviews, raising the town's profile and helping with local promotion efforts. Naturally, this only deepened the locals' love for their team. Today was a big day—they were hosting the second-ranked team in the Bosnian Premier League. The powerful FK Sarajevo. In the 22nd round, Mostar had easily defeated Velež, closing the second cycle of the league on a high note. Now, at the start of the third cycle—the 23rd round—they were about to face FK Sarajevo. This was also the final head-to-head clash between the two teams this season. A showdown between a capital city club and a small-town team, this was more than just football—it symbolized a wider urban-rural rivalry. City clubs often looked down on their "hillbilly" counterparts. And the small-town fans, in turn, saw those city folks as pretentious snobs! With that kind of mutual disdain, the match was guaranteed to be explosive. The Zrinjski Stadium had undergone minor renovations over the winter break, primarily expanding its capacity. Previously, around 5,000 fans would fill it to the brim, but now it could host 10,000. Today, nearly 7,000 fans packed into the stadium—a testament to the growing influence of Zrinjski's matches in the area. "So lively!" Scout Jategenić had arrived in Mostar the night before. After resting for two days, he resumed his scouting work in this Bosnian town. His current target was a Croatian kid named Suker. Based on the evaluations from Bešić, this young player had excellent offensive ability in the final third. Of course, that was all from watching match footage. To catch the nuances, nothing beat being there in person. Jategenić's job was to grade Suk and draft a scouting report. He held a simple data sheet in his hand: [Name]: Suker [Height]: 161 cm [Weight]: 50 kg [Strengths]: Notable speed and explosiveness; excels in offensive playmaking; reliable short passing ability. [Weaknesses]: Struggles with physical confrontations; overly slight build. This report was based on Bešić's suggestions and wasn't particularly conclusive. Everything would depend on Suker's real-time performance. This match, a high-stakes showdown in the Bosnian Premier League, was exactly the kind of stage that could reveal a player's true capabilities. Jategenić felt he'd picked the perfect time. He took his seat on the left side of the stadium, with a great view of the pitch. As he settled in, the stadium's DJ began introducing the home team's starting lineup. From captain Kosović to the rest, each name was met with waves of cheers. But when Modrić was introduced, the crowd reached a new level. WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO— "Luka is really popular!" Jategenić smiled, resting his chin on his hand. As a talent nurtured by Dinamo Zagreb, Modrić was cherished by everyone at the club. If it weren't for the Mostecic brothers' issue, he wouldn't be playing in the Bosnian league. Still, the crowd's reaction reassured Jategenić. A true talent shines anywhere. Modrić's popularity was proof of his strong performances. But then, an even louder cheer erupted. WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO— With arms raised, Suker walked onto the pitch, triggering the loudest roar of all. "He's this popular?" Jategenić was stunned. The roar for Suker was clearly louder than for Modrić—he was even more beloved. Suker waved continuously to the stands, drawing even more waves of cheers. But popularity didn't mean Suker was better than Modrić. Compared to the quiet and reserved Modrić, Suker's outgoing and friendly nature simply made him more likable. The squeaky wheel gets the grease. He knew how to hype the crowd and connect with fans—and won more love for it. Modrić didn't seem to care either. All he cared about was winning. As Zrinjski's players walked out, Sarajevo's squad also appeared. But they were met with a chorus of boos, adding extra pressure. Suker Mazči, Sarajevo's young prodigy, held his head high. His fighting spirit was intense—he was determined to crush Zrinjski and take revenge. In their last encounter, Sarajevo had suffered a humiliating home defeat. Now he wanted to make Suk taste the same medicine—losing on home turf. Starting Lineups: Mostar Zrinjski (4-3-3): GK: Kisch DEF: Hasković, Mašović, Hačić, Krpić MID: Boban, Kamnar, Modrić FW: Biliar, Kosopeć, Suk Sarajevo (4-3-3): GK: Ivančić DEF: Bakrof, Ivan Kričić, Bičević, Istović MID: Jurinović, Meskapecić, Torlist FW: Jakfervić, Suker Mazči, Tižemanči As the teams stood on the field, the tension was already palpable. Whether it was Sarajevo's revenge mission or the title race implications, the pre-match atmosphere was intense. In the stands, scout Jategenić began scribbling in his notes, updating Suker's profile. Suker no longer looked like he was only 161 cm tall—he seemed taller and more filled out. He didn't look like the scrawny kid on the tapes. "Zrinjski are still focusing their attack down the left, building around Suker. He's dropping deep to link play, delivering the ball into dangerous areas up front..." The match began cautiously, with both sides testing the waters. Suker, too, held back from direct wing breakthroughs, focusing more on teamwork and watching his opposing fullback. Gone was last time's opponent, Jorijać—now replaced by a younger player named Istović. Suker didn't know much about him, but being in Sarajevo's starting XI likely meant he had ability. The game remained in its probing phase. Meanwhile, Jategenić focused intently, observing Suk's movements and style, jotting down notes. "Short stature but highly agile and nimble; needs to improve one-on-one skills and take-on mentality." "Exceptional burst of speed, strong acceleration; uncertain long-distance pace; explosive type player. (Fast footwork allows for rapid changes of direction.)" "High pressing intensity, great work rate, often tracks back; quick to counter." "Short passing is very reliable, decent long passes." Just as he wrote that, Jategenić's pen jerked involuntarily. The stadium suddenly erupted. "What the...?" He looked up to see Suker delivering an astonishing trivela pass. The ball skimmed the ground, weaving through defenders, curling behind the center-backs, and finding space on the far flank. Suker had just drawn a rainbow across the pitch. "RAINBOW PASS!! THE RAINBOW PASS!! SUKER'S SIGNATURE MOVE!!" The commentator, Basodaći, was practically shouting in excitement. Ever since Suker used this move against Tuzla Sloboda, he hadn't done it again. Now, the rainbow pass had returned—and the stadium was on fire. Unfortunately, the pass was a bit too long—Biliar couldn't catch up and it rolled out. Still, from the far sideline, Biliar gave Suker a big thumbs-up, taking the blame himself. Suker simply waved back—he knew he'd overcooked it. But the attempt fired him up even more. He felt alive now, fully immersed in the match. The rainbow pass had changed the whole stadium's mood. Even Sarajevo's star Torlist, who'd played in the big European leagues, was stunned, holding his head in disbelief. A pass like that? If it had worked—it would've been a highlight in any of Europe's top five leagues. It didn't belong in the Bosnian Premier League! In the stands, Jategenić couldn't shake what he'd just seen. That pass—that sweeping arc across the pitch—was engraved in his mind. In all his years of scouting, he'd never seen anything like it. And the sheer distance... the curve... it almost bent like magic. The rainbow pass had left a deep impression on Jategenić. He now looked at Suker with blazing interest. If— Just if— If that pass hadn't been too long... if Suker kept working on it... It could blow Bešić's jaw clean off!