"Go on!!"
Suk shouted excitedly.
However, what he saw was Maslozic, under pressure from a defender, falling flat on his face.
ARGH~~~~~~!!
Suk rubbed his head in frustration.
'I served it to you on a platter, and you still couldn't take it?'
Maslozic got up awkwardly, not quite daring to look at Suk.
That through ball, which had split the defense, was absolutely perfect. All Maslozic had to do was gently guide the ball forward, and he would have been one-on-one with the keeper.
But he'd messed it up.
But that pass also made quite a few people turn and look at Suk in surprise.
'Their short center forward has such an outstanding passing ability?'
It wasn't just his passing, but also his vision and understanding of the game.
This was an incredible talent.
Even Oripé on the sidelines blinked, muttering to himself:
'Should I have him play attacking midfielder?'
But Suk could never play attacking midfielder.
Not only was the attacking midfielder position becoming obsolete in future soccer tactics, but it was also too far from the goal.
Currently, Suk was developing a whole new skill set, taking on a supportive role focused on passing.
But he still wanted to be the one to score the decisive, game-winning goals.
All these current changes were to compensate for his physical disadvantages, allowing him to better adapt to the professional stage.
'Once I get taller, hmph hmph...'
Suk's eyes gleamed; his future felt limitless.
"Again! Again! Again!"
Suk urged them to keep playing.
He was just getting into the groove and having a blast, and he didn't want the momentum to be broken.
Everyone returned to the game.
After that one instance of combination play, the teamwork on Suk's side became much smoother.
Modric himself was a genius midfielder. His ability to read the game was superior to everyone else here, and even though he wasn't playing very seriously, he still put immense pressure on the defending team.
Mulinar was a little out of sync at first, but as he watched the interplay between Suk and Modric, he started to learn by example and gradually join in, until it evolved into a three-man combination.
And as these three linked up with their passing, the two wingers and even the defensive line began to press forward.
THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!
It was the sound of the ball against their cleats. With every pass, Suk's side opted for one-touch, or two at the most.
The entire passing sequence was incredibly fluid.
Even if a problem arose in one part of the sequence, the moment the ball reached the feet of Suk, Mulinar, or Modric, the situation would instantly stabilize.
The three core players on the ball radiated their influence across the whole team. Now, their offensive fangs were beginning to show.
Suk glanced at his teammates on the wings and his own defensive line, then once again dropped back deliberately.
Seeing Suk's movement, the center-back Kobaro, remembering what happened before, immediately chased after him.
At that moment, Modric passed the ball to Suk, but Suk had no intention of trapping it, knocking it straight back with a single touch.
This decisive return pass left Kobaro, who had been charging from behind, lunging at empty air.
Suk glanced back at Kobaro and grinned, flashing his bright white teeth.
For some reason, Kobaro found that grin incredibly infuriating.
Modric had already moved the ball to the wing, and Suk immediately drifted over as well.
Vitolic saw Kobaro sticking close to Suk and chose to pass the ball back to Modric.
Modric then threaded a pass to Suk. Kobaro immediately lunged forward, and Suk sent it back with one touch.
"Why do you keep passing it back!"
Kobaro yelled in frustration after lunging at nothing.
Suk shrugged. "Then don't press me so hard!"
Kobaro grimaced. 'If I don't press, you'll just make a killer pass, won't you?'
Just then, Modric unexpectedly passed the ball to Suk yet again.
Kobaro couldn't take it anymore. He burst forward, sprinting at full speed this time, wanting to intercept the ball before it reached Suk.
But Suk didn't wait in place; he actively dropped back to meet the ball.
Both men rushed toward the ball at top speed. Seeing the ball before him, Suk used the inside of his left foot to gently nudge it outward.
The ball rolled to the left, and Suk immediately turned and created space in the opposite direction of his pass.
Kobaro lunged at nothing again. His attention followed the ball, and he completely missed Suk, who was now level with him, adjusting his position with quick, small steps.
In the space on the left, Mulinar had moved into position smoothly. His next task was simple.
Use the space created by Suk to play a straight through ball.
Sure enough, the moment Mulinar played the pass, Suk burst into a high-speed forward run.
"They broke through again?"
"Block him!"
The defenders from both sides quickly closed in, and the goalkeeper rushed out of his goal, trying to cover as much of the angle as possible.
In theory, Suk's shooting angle was extremely tight.
But... who said he had to shoot?
Suk had made his run from the center toward the left, drawing all the defenders to that side. Only a single fullback was left in the middle.
What Suk did next was simple.
A simple fake shot sent the defenders sprawling. At the same time, Suk gently stepped on the ball with his right foot, stopping it dead. He himself continued his run toward the left, drawing most of the defensive pressure with him.
But they failed to notice Modric behind Suk.
The two executed a crossover run. Modric scooped up the ball Suk had left behind and, facing a goal defended by only a single fullback, easily slotted it into the bottom left corner.
The ball hit the back of the net.
"WOW!!!"
The moment he saw the goal, Suk jumped up in excitement.
The other attacking players also cried out in amazement.
Even Mulinar was clutching his head, a look of disbelief on his face.
'Did we really pull off that attack?'
'It was almost too slick.'
Those two, Suk and Modric, with their countless crossover runs and probing passes, had fluidly moved the ball into the danger zone.
Of course, Suk's diagonal forward run and his stop on the ball were also incredibly imaginative.
And the fact that Modric could read Suk's intentions was also crucial.
"Those two... Unbelievable!"
The look of shock was still on Oripé's face.
If it weren't for this dilapidated stadium, he would have thought he was watching Arsenal play.
The main thing was how fluid the attack had been. It was almost entirely one-touch passing, and before the goal, they'd done everything possible to draw the defenders away.
It was as if Suk and Modric had formed some kind of tacit understanding.
The combination play between these two made the goal look so effortless.
"Roten Mashiqi, your side was wide open again!"
"It was clearly you who didn't mark your man!"
"I was marking him tightly."
"But you didn't manage to stop him!"
The defending players were getting flustered. Mainly because they were being run ragged, and no one enjoys that.
"Alright, stop arguing. Don't forget, we're on the same team!"
Mulinar came over to mediate, and his words made them feel a lot better.
That's right!
They were one team. A strong forward meant they were strong too. In a real match, it wouldn't be them getting run ragged anyway.
Soon, everyone began discussing it excitedly.
The Mostar Wanderers had always played a simple and crude style of defensive counter-attacks.
This kind of intricate tactical combination, this magnificent chemistry in their off-the-ball runs—it felt incredibly good.
Even Modric stood there, stunned.
He carefully replayed that last play in his mind.
There were no mistakes. Everyone was exactly where they needed to be, and every run was a link in the chain that led to the goal.
And at the center of it all, the short forward named Suk had orchestrated everything.
'What a strange feeling!'
Modric had never felt anything like this at the Mostar Zrinjski Football Club, the team he played for.
And that was a Super League team!
Although the intensity was much higher there compared to this amateur game, this kind of combination play was still applicable at that level.
The most important part was the control of the tempo and the sheer fluidity of it all.
Modric fell silent. Since his transfer to Bosnia and Herzegovina, he hadn't played such fluid soccer in a very long time.
He used to always complain that his teammates were idiots, that they didn't understand his runs or passing intentions.
But the kind of combination play he couldn't achieve in the Super League, he had managed to pull off in an amateur game with people he'd just met?
'Where exactly did the problem lie?'
'Was it my fault, or my teammates'?'
Modric sank into deep self-doubt.
"Hey! High-five!"
Just then, a voice called out.
Modric looked down and saw Suk holding up his hand, smiling. "You're amazing. Your passing is incredible."
Modric's face flushed red.
'But this guy was the one who orchestrated the whole attack.'
Suk looked at the stiff-bodied, hooded boy in front of him and asked, "Are you not feeling well? Are you a player? Interested in coming to play with us?"
Suk immediately extended an invitation.
Modric nodded, then shook his head.
Suk was confused.
But Modric turned and shook his head. "I have to go."
"You're leaving?"
Suk quickly said, "But I haven't had enough yet."
Modric glanced back at Suk and said suddenly, "You... should play in the midfield."
Suk was taken aback. The comment was completely out of left field, but he supposed it was Modric's way of giving him advice.
"My off-the-ball movement is stronger. I just lack a good midfielder to pass to me." Suk chuckled. "I'm the top scorer of the second division, you know."
Modric replied, "A second-division top scorer wouldn't score a single goal in the Super League."
Suk was stunned. 'Does this guy even know how to hold a conversation? I just praised you, shouldn't you return the favor?'
A hint of displeasure clearly showed on Suk's face.
Modric knew he had misspoken and quickly said, "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that, but... it's the truth!"
Suk: "..."
Sigh!
Suk sighed. He raised his arm, intending to pat Modric's head, but found he couldn't reach. He settled for patting his shoulder instead and said, "Come play with us again when you have time. We train here every Tuesday."
"Tuesdays?" Modric nodded. "I'll remember that."
With that, he turned and left.
Suk watched Modric's departing figure, a brow slightly raised. A thoughtful expression crossed his face, which finally settled into a knowing smile.