Chapter 89: He Trapped the Ball Like That

As soon as Davor Šuker returned to Dinamo Zagreb, he immediately began imparting his experience. He had no idea how much these youngsters could absorb, but he poured it all out regardless. With enough talent, someone was bound to stand out eventually. Of course, Šuker and Modrić were exceptions. Their grasp of detail and sharp instincts surprised even Davor Šuker. In fact, Mandžukić, Vukojević, and others were also quite talented, but compared to Šuker and Modrić, they seemed lacking. What truly stunned Davor Šuker, however, came during a training match later. On the first day, coach Bešić didn't arrange any fitness training. Instead, he set up an intra-squad match to test the players' individual abilities and build team chemistry. Due to it being their first time playing together, coordination was rough. There were still some standout moments. But they all came from Šuker and Modrić. Yet what shocked Davor Šuker wasn't Modrić's performance—it was Šuker's. Having played in top leagues, Davor Šuker was always a step ahead in both thinking and movement. He'd appear in open spaces before others even noticed. This mismatch made it uncomfortable for both him and the young players. Except for one: Šuker. No matter where Davor Šuker moved, Šuker would be there to receive and return the pass. His vision and positioning seamlessly supported Davor Šuker. During the training match, the two combined for a goal after a perfectly timed run and pass. Davor Šuker made a burst forward, and Šuker delivered a pinpoint through ball that sliced open the defense. Naturally, Davor Šuker finished with his signature precision. Though it was Davor Šuker who scored, the pass from Šuker was just as critical. At that moment, receiving that perfect through ball made Davor Šuker feel like he was back playing in the top European leagues. He glanced at Šuker with genuine surprise. Meanwhile, Šuker wiped his sweat and sighed quietly. "So hard to keep up!" Thanks to having Filippo Inzaghi's sense of positioning, he could anticipate Davor Šuker's runs. He seemed like someone who had already experienced top-league play. But while his awareness was solid, his technique still lagged. At optimal positions, he could make quick one-touch plays with Davor Šuker. But when slightly off or under pressure, he struggled to execute follow-up moves. Davor Šuker's playstyle was typical of the top leagues—sharp, decisive, and lethal. Šuker and Modrić, by contrast, hadn't reached that level yet. Worse, they'd picked up some bad habits in the Bosnian league: over-dribbling, excessive touches, and pointless feints. All this highlighted the need to reform quickly. Despite standing out from peers like Mandžukić, who couldn't even keep up with the pace, Šuker and Modrić were far from satisfied. At lunch, Davor Šuker sat across from the two. "You two have too many useless move. Hold the ball when needed. Otherwise, move it quickly." He looked at them. "Šuker, observe more! Modrić, stop over-observing!" The two had opposite problems. When the tempo picked up, Šuker forgot to look up and got flustered. Modrić, meanwhile, turned his head like a crazed fan, constantly scanning but delaying his decisions. "I'm not asking you to observe 15–20 times every time. Judge based on the situation. If there's time, observe more. If not, make a quick decision!" Then he said, "Starting tomorrow, the two of you train with me one hour daily. Bring Jarny and Štimac too. The five of us will train separately." Šuker and Modrić agreed eagerly. Davor Šuker then moved to sit beside coach Bešić. "You're more enthusiastic than the coaching staff," Bešić laughed. Davor Šuker smiled. "Anyone who sees two talented kids like that can't help it." "If they train for one or two seasons, they'll be ready for the top five European leagues." Bešić looked at him in shock. Clearly, when it came to judgment, Davor Šuker had the final say. "They really have that kind of ability?" Bešić asked. "Right now, it's just potential. But their adaptability is fast. If they were in a top youth academy, and didn't slack off, they could be first-team players for a major club." This kind of praise left Bešić stunned. Being a starter at a top club—that's the dream of countless players. Davor Šuker grinned: "Give us one month. When the new season starts, these two will shock everyone." That afternoon, after lunch and a short rest, they began fitness training. Bešić prioritized fitness and scheduled a full week of intense physical training. It was brutal. Run, run, run. Run till you puke. Then run some more. Šuker and Modrić again led the team, with stamina levels far above everyone else. They became the benchmarks for the other youth players. From the moment they arrived, their performance had been outstanding. Mandžukić and Vukojević gritted their teeth and followed. There was no room for slacking—fall behind once, and you'd never catch up. Šuker and Modrić were sprinting ahead. Stop, and you'd lose sight of them. No one knew how many steps they'd run or how many times they'd puked. Mandžukić felt like he experienced some sort of spiritual and physical transformation during the week. Even so, he could only watch Šuker and Modrić's tail lights fade into the distance. They kept training even after fitness sessions, doing extra work with Davor Šuker. Mandžukić wanted to join but his body simply couldn't take more. All he could do was watch. After a week, Mandžukić finally spoke up. "I want to join the extra evening training!" He stared at Davor Šuker. He was fiercely competitive. Earlier, he couldn't physically handle more. But now, he felt ready. He couldn't afford to fall further behind. Davor Šuker agreed without hesitation. "Anyone who wants to join evening training can stay." There were no limits. With permission granted, nearly everyone stayed. Davor Šuker looked at the eager young wolves with hunger in their eyes—ready to drain him dry of knowledge. He smiled. "Great look in your eyes!" Two weeks passed. The first focused on fitness. The second was all about tactical positioning and teamwork. Once they got the hang of the system, Bešić scheduled warm-up matches. He believed real progress came through real matches. Their first opponent? Šuker and Modrić's former team—Zrinjski Mostar. It had been less than a month, and now they were back in familiar territory. They thought it'd be years before returning. But fate had other plans. Now, they wore Dinamo Zagreb's blue kits. "Hey! Keep an eye on Šuker!" "Don't let him or Modrić score, and we've done our job!" "Kerpić, don't let Šuker get past you!" "Don't worry! I'll show Šuker what despair feels like!" Their old teammates were fired up. So were Šuker and Modrić. Beating up your cocky former teammates? Nothing's more satisfying. At kickoff, Davor Šuker stood at the center circle with Šuker. "You guys seem pretty close," he grinned. Šuker shrugged. "Bunch of slaphead. But watch out—Mašović and Hačić aren't pushovers." Davor Šuker smiled without replying. But the confidence on his face didn't waver. He was too old for the top leagues now. But in a lower-tier team, his experience and ability made him a dominant figure. As if to prove that point... In the 25th minute, Modrić sent a long ball forward. Davor Šuker stopped it with his left foot, perfectly controlling it to his side, smoothly creating space—and slotted it into the bottom left corner. The whole process looked effortless. Zrinjski Mostar's center back Mašović stared in disbelief. He knew Davor Šuker was good. But this good? He glanced toward coach Van stoyak and pointed at the ground, as if to say: "Look! He trapped the ball like that—who could possibly stop him?"