Suk sat next to Oripé. The two chatted while watching the game.
"Henry puts a lot of pressure on the defensive line, but I think the real reason Arsenal is playing so well is Bergkamp. He’s the key!"
Oripé hit the nail on the head.
Bergkamp, known as the "Ice Prince" during his time at Arsenal, was originally a center-forward. Under Wenger’s guidance, he was transformed, proactively dropping back from the penalty area to play as a wide midfielder.
A wide midfielder and a winger are two different concepts.
A winger is positioned on the same attacking line as the center-forward—a level position. When they have the ball, their job is to break through along the flank, operate near the touchline, and do everything in service of scoring a goal.
This is currently the most popular position on the flanks. It has the nickname ’white shoes,’ an old term that came about because the touchlines used to be drawn with white powder. Wingers running along the line would get their shoes whitened, earning them this title.
Robben, Ribery, and the future Mbappé are all this type of player.
Compared to a winger, a wide midfielder has more responsibilities.
Although they are also required to press forward to attack and score, it’s not as much of a priority. A wide midfielder’s main jobs are to support the attack, even direct it, and to link up plays.
In defense, they also need to track back diligently.
Positionally, they also play deeper than a center-forward, closing the gap with the midfield to form tighter passing links.
Bergkamp was clearly playing as a wide midfielder at this moment, giving Suk a lot of insight into the position.
Arsenal’s attack was as fluid and tight as ever. Liverpool, on the other hand, seemed to be running out of steam after their overly aggressive offense.
Seizing this opportunity, Arsenal launched a series of relentless attacks.
Arsenal pressed forward as a unit, constantly causing trouble for Liverpool. Their penetrating passes left Liverpool completely disoriented.
"So beautiful!"
Watching Arsenal’s fluid passing, Oripé narrowed his eyes and mused, "When will we be able to play this kind of soccer!"
Suk turned to look at Oripé and said, "We could give it a try."
Oripé replied, "We only have one focal point. To be blunt, Mulinar can’t sustain this kind of fluid attack all by himself. Overall, we have too few players who can hold the ball."
"Rosen is great at playing the ball out from the back and has good ball-holding skills. He can link up with Mulinar. And I can drop back from the center-forward position to help organize and support the attack!"
Suk’s face was full of earnestness.
Oripé, on the other hand, looked at him in astonishment. "You? Drop back? Organize?"
Suk had always been a poacher, a stealthy forward whose role was to convert chances into goals.
And now this kid wanted to voluntarily drop back and orchestrate the play.
"Trust me! I used to do this in the youth academy. We need to play more as a unit, and this would also unleash Mulinar’s attacking abilities."
Mulinar had always been making a bit of a personal sacrifice to ensure Suk had opportunities to score.
He wouldn’t actively join the attack, instead focusing on drawing defenders away, pulling wide to support, and so on...
But now, Suk was suggesting they could swap roles with Mulinar, or at least be more fluid and switch back and forth.
"A unified attack will throw the opponent’s defense into more chaos. It won’t just be me attacking their defensive line alone; it’ll be the whole team pressing forward. We can use our numerical advantage to launch quick counter-attacks. As for scoring, either Mulinar or I can do it. This will also create more chances for our wingers."
After hearing this, Oripé stopped watching the game and turned to him. "You want to play as a nine-and-a-half?"
Suk asked in surprise, "You know what a nine-and-a-half is?"
Oripé was speechless. ’This kid really thinks I’m useless.’ Even though he didn’t have a coaching license, he had been through coaching training many times.
The reason Oripé mentioned the nine-and-a-half role was because Suk couldn’t play as a false nine.
Both the false nine and the nine-and-a-half require the center-forward to drop back.
The number nine represents the center-forward, but both the false nine and the nine-and-a-half are extensions of the traditional center-forward role with additional tasks.
A false nine needs to be more of a pivot, using their physical presence to hold up the ball and create passing opportunities for teammates making forward runs.
But Suk couldn’t play like that. With his small frame, he wouldn’t be able to withstand the physical impact.
Therefore, if he were to drop back, he would have to drop back early and drop deep.
The nine-and-a-half was the perfect position for Suk.
But there was still the same question.
How was Suk’s passing?
Until now, Oripé hadn’t paid much attention to Suk’s passing or playmaking. ’Maybe he really can do it?’
It was indeed a shortcut to improving the team’s overall ability.
"We’ll try it tomorrow!"
Oripé was decisive.
Suk nodded excitedly.
Then, the two went back to watching the game. The match between Arsenal and Liverpool was still just as intense.
Oripé was purely watching the match, enjoying the thrilling tension.
Suk, however, was looking beyond the game itself, toward that land where soccer reigned supreme.
The top leagues, the giant clubs, the head-to-head battles between powerhouses.
All of this stimulated Suk’s nerves. This was the stage of his dreams.
Finally, after 90 minutes, Arsenal defeated Liverpool 2-1, thanks to a brilliant midfield performance by the Ice Prince, Bergkamp, securing a home victory.
After the match, the two went straight back to their rooms to get ready for bed. After all, they had things to do the next day.
The night passed peacefully.
The next day, Suk woke up early. After a quick wash, he went to the kitchen, grabbed a small metal basin, and rushed out of the room.
The morning in Mostar was very quiet.
Birds chirped on the tree branches. The weather today was exceptionally good—not a cloud in the sky, and sunlight bathed the land.
Suk’s steps were much lighter. Humming a tune, he skipped all the way to a pasture.
He went through the pasture’s fence gate and approached a shed. Inside, an old man with a thick beard was vigorously milking a cow.
"Grandpa Kesovic, a basin of milk, please."
The old man, Kesovic, looked up at Suk. Without wasting words, he took the small metal basin, scooped out a full basin from the milk pail under the cow, and handed it back.
Suk took it carefully, his movements meticulous, as if he couldn’t bear to waste a single drop.
Kesovic stood up, patting his sore lower back. He looked at Suk and smiled. "Little Suqi, why aren’t you growing up? I’m waiting to use you in my advertisements."
Suk’s attention was focused on the basin. He replied casually, "I’ll grow, I’ll grow. I won’t charge you an endorsement fee then."
Kesovic couldn’t help but laugh out loud.
Kesovic took great care of this Asian boy who was also from Croatia. He always gave Suk milk for free and would occasionally invite him over to eat some meat to supplement his nutrition.
Both Kesovic and Suk had lived through those turbulent times. They knew all too well the pain of that era.
Kesovic had lost his family in that war, and his grandson had been separated from him while they were fleeing.
Kesovic was very kind to Suk. Perhaps he was also praying that someone would treat his lost grandson the way he treated Suk.
Suk, carrying the basin of milk, walked slowly back to Oripé’s house.
After entering the kitchen, he poured the milk into a clean pot. Freshly squeezed milk was very fresh, but it still needed to be boiled before it could be drunk.
Once the milk came to a boil, Suk ladled it out.
Suk then took some bread slices from the refrigerator, heated them up, spread them with ketchup, and started eating his breakfast with the milk.
After finishing his meal, Suk hopped down from the dining table and went to a load-bearing pillar in the room.
There were three marks on the pillar. The distance between them was very small, only about one to two centimeters, with the third mark being noticeably deeper.
Obviously, it was used to measure his height.
Suk stood with his back pressed tightly against the pillar.
He put his legs together, puffed out his chest, raised his head, and marked the highest point above his head with his hand.
When Suk turned his head to look with anticipation, he found that his hand was perfectly aligned with that third, deepest mark.
"I didn’t grow again!"
Suk was instantly discouraged, but he quickly slapped his cheeks and roused himself.
After all, this wasn’t the first or second time he’d faced this kind of blow.
Suk still firmly believed he would grow. He was just a late bloomer.
...
Oripé was having a wonderful dream. In it, he was standing on the coach’s bench at Highbury Stadium, commanding the field with masterful authority, basking in the adoration and cheers of tens of thousands of people.
He had gained fame, fortune, and beautiful women.
Just as he was about to spend a wonderful night with a beautiful model, a sudden loud noise broke the silence.
BANG!!!
"Get up! Get up!"
Suk kicked Oripé’s door open.
Oripé was startled awake, his mind transitioning from dream to reality. The confusion in his eyes gradually faded as he recognized the situation. A flicker of rage began to surface as he glared at Suk.
"You little brat! I’m going to kill you!"
Oripé flew into a rage and shot up, but Suk was quick on his feet. He turned and bolted, disappearing in a flash.
How could Oripé’s chubby body possibly keep up? In the end, he was left panting, leaning against the wall and glaring angrily at Suk.
Finally, Oripé snorted heavily and yawned.
"What time is it?"
"7 AM."
Oripé suddenly fell silent for a moment.
"Is it Saturday today?"
"Yes!"
"And training is at 2 PM today?"
"That’s right!"
Oripé fell silent again. The next second, a roar echoed through the room once more.
"Go to hell! You little brat, I swear I’m going to destroy you today and get revenge for my Saturday!"
CRASH... BANG...
Early in the morning, Oripé’s room had become very ’lively’.