Modric arrived at the field as promised, though he stood on the outskirts of the crowd in a relatively sparse area.
He disliked such noisy places, and the view from here allowed him to better observe all the movement on the pitch.
Modric felt obligated to accept Suk's invitation.
Suk was Modric's only friend in Bosnia and Herzegovina. His own shy yet proud personality made it difficult for him to blend in with his surroundings and his team.
He wasn't good at socializing, couldn't express himself, and certainly wouldn't be the one to strike up a conversation.
Of course, a bit of arrogance was also at play; he considered the entire Bosnia and Herzegovina League to be terrible, with outdated tactics and extremely poor player quality.
Because of this, he genuinely considered Suk—the one person with whom he had developed a good rapport and coordinated well—to be a friend.
The players from both sides were now standing in their respective halves, with Mostar Wanderers set to kick off.
Suk and Mulinar stood together in the center circle.
The kickoff rules hadn't been changed yet at this point in time. The rule stipulated that after the kickoff, the ball had to move forward into the opponent's half before it could be passed backward.
This maneuver required two players to execute.
After the new kickoff rules were introduced in 2016, this requirement was eliminated, which is why it eventually became common for a lone center-forward to take the kickoff.
Modric watched Suk standing over the ball in the center circle, waiting for the kickoff, and couldn't help but find it a little comical.
Modric was already considered frail by Bosnian standards, but Suk was on a whole other level—he looked like a child, creating a jarring visual contrast with the players around him.
In the Bosnia and Herzegovina Super League, Modric himself had a difficult time playing due to his physique.
He was very curious how Suk, who was even weaker than he was, managed to deal with this problem.
The referee's whistle blew, and the match officially began.
Suk gently tapped the ball diagonally forward, and Mulinar immediately passed it back.
The two ran in tandem, one forward and one back.
Suk charged directly toward the opponent's defensive line, while Mulinar dropped back to provide support.
The moment Suk reached the opponent's defensive line, Unovic was on him.
The man stayed glued to Suk, shoving him with his body and letting out a sly chuckle.
Suk glanced at him with disgust. 'What is wrong with this guy?'
Suk didn't linger; he immediately started running.
Once Suk started running, he didn't stop.
He made continuous shuttle runs, back and forth from left to right. Although he wasn't particularly fast, his strength was his persistence.
Unovic could keep up at first, but Suk soon moved into the other center-back's zone. Unovic had to fall back to his own position, handing off the marking duty to the other center-back, Matt.
Meanwhile, the Mostar Wanderers were patiently passing the ball among themselves.
Watching from the sidelines, Modric nodded slightly.
'The tempo is right.'
'And Suk is doing just what I thought he would—using constant movement to compensate for his weakness in physical challenges.'
Modric felt a surge of joy. It was like they were on the same wavelength again.
'That's how I solve it, too.'
'But the next part is crucial.'
Just then, the ball was passed to Mulinar. Suk was still running laterally, but he picked up the pace.
The next second, he abruptly turned ninety degrees and darted forward.
The burst of speed on his forward run instantly left Unovic behind. Unfortunately, Suk's run was wasted; the ball never came.
Suk shook his head and fell back, his expression impassive.
In contrast, Modric, on the sidelines, slammed his fist into a barrier post.
"Why didn't he pass!"
Modric muttered, gritting his teeth.
His voice was filled with frustration.
'The entire defensive line had just been drawn over to the left wing. Suk made a lateral run to the right, then cut forward at a ninety-degree angle.'
'The center-back was already leaning in the direction of Suk's initial movement. He could have easily played a through ball into the space behind the defender, creating a one-on-one chance!'
'If I were the one passing, Suk's clever run wouldn't have been wasted.'
But Modric soon realized this wasn't an isolated incident.
Suk's instinct for making forward runs was so sharp it was almost frightening.
He would drift along the defensive line, and the moment he shook off a center-back, he would sprint into an open gap.
There were even a few times when Modric himself didn't see the opportunity until after Suk was already making his run.
"This guy..."
Modric blinked, a hint of shock in his eyes, which also held a faint glimmer of excitement.
He couldn't help but think of his own predicament at his club.
At Mostar Zrinjski, it was always others who couldn't keep up with his train of thought. Now, he was finding it difficult to keep up with Suk's instincts.
"Here it comes!"
Modric whispered, clenching his fists. His whole body tensed as if he were the one about to make the pass.
But just as quickly, he saw Suk suddenly slow down mid-run.
"The pass was under-hit!"
Modric clutched his head.
"He wasted such a brilliant run! Does he even know how to pass?!"
In that moment, Modric felt that Mulinar was a complete idiot!
On the pitch, wave after wave of attacks from the Mostar Wanderers forced Leotar into a completely passive rhythm.
However, they held on, thanks to their disciplined defense.
Unovic stared at Suk, his eyes bloodshot.
So far in the match, he had been unable to completely contain the short forward darting all over the place in front of him.
His agility was one factor, but more importantly, Suk's timing on his forward runs was impeccable, making him incredibly difficult to follow.
Fortunately for them, the quality of the Mostar Wanderers' passing couldn't match Suk's runs, which prevented him from being fully effective.
But there was no hint of dissatisfaction on Suk's face; he remained as focused as ever.
'Mulinar is having a hard time getting the ball out.'
Suk understood his teammates better than anyone else.
He knew Mulinar's passing wasn't normally this poor. The drop in quality was largely due to the opponent's defensive pressure.
In other words, Mulinar was under immense pressure whenever he had the ball.
Sure enough, the moment Mulinar received the ball, two Leotar players instantly closed in on him from either side.
Faced with this sudden pressure, Mulinar grew a little flustered.
He glanced left and right but saw no open passing lanes. When he looked forward, however, Suk was already dropping back to him, pointing his index finger toward the ground to signal for a pass.
Mulinar decisively passed the ball forward.
Suk dropped back to receive it. He met the ball with a soft touch from his right foot, then rolled his left foot over the top of it while dipping his left shoulder, faking a move to the left.
Unovic, who had been marking him, fell for the feint and shifted to the left.
But in the next instant, Suk pushed the ball to his right. Unovic, off-balance, hastily tried to recover, lunging wildly with his right leg. It didn't matter if he got the ball or took Suk down—anything to stop the attack.
But at that exact moment, Suk, who was in the middle of his turn, abruptly stopped the ball with the sole of his boot.
The clumsy Unovic, completely unstable, got his feet tangled and slowly tumbled backward.
"Beautiful!"
Modric couldn't help but exclaim in a low voice.
'That series of fakes was so cool. He dodged a violent foul and, best of all, he made the defender fall over.'
The moment Unovic hit the ground, Suk calmly passed the ball out to the right.
All eyes were on Suk; no one noticed Mulinar making a run forward.
Mulinar collected the pass beside Suk and sprinted forward, cutting diagonally from left to right and pulling the defensive line with him.
Meanwhile, Suk trailed a step behind, continuing his own run straight down the middle.
Once the defense was drawn toward Mulinar, he laid the ball off to the winger, Maslozic.
Maslozic met the rolling ball and, without taking a touch, swept it first-time toward the center.
It was a cutback pass. The ball arrived perfectly in front of Suk, who had made a late run into a wide-open space.
Suk took a soft touch to guide the ball forward.
The opposing goalkeeper was already rushing out to challenge him.
Suk feinted as if to dribble past the keeper on the left, baiting him to shift his weight. But in the next instant, Suk used the tip of his boot to poke the ball to the right.
The ball shot past the keeper's left ankle and nestled into the back of the net.
In the 21st minute, Mostar Wanderers scored the first goal.
The goal stunned the entire stadium into silence.
The residents of Mostar Town stared at the pitch with wide eyes. 'Was that fluid display of teamwork, that brilliant goal, really scored by the Mostar Wanderers?'
It wasn't just the Mostar side; even the opposing team's coaching staff were gaping in astonishment.
'Such a fluid attacking combination... is this still the same Mostar Wanderers team that only knows how to play with simple forward runs?'
'And the most crucial part was that short number 9.'
'That guy... actually started passing the ball!'
ROOOOAAAARRRRR!
The fans in the stadium erupted into cheers.
Even though there were only a little over 100 of them, they were much livelier than usual.
They cheered for the beautiful goal.
They cheered for the seamless teamwork.
When Mulinar was surrounded, they thought he was going to lose the ball for sure.
But Mulinar had unexpectedly passed it forward. Then Suk, with his back to the goal, used a series of feints and a brilliant turn to send the opposing center-back, Unovic, to the ground before passing the ball back to the advancing Mulinar.
From that moment on, the Mostar Wanderers' attacking intent became crystal clear.
Mulinar's diagonal run from left to right drew the defenders toward him.
Then, the pass out to the wing drew the defense's attention even further.
Maslozic wasn't greedy and played a cutback pass to the trailing Suk.
And Suk's finish was brilliant as well.
It was, one could say, a picture-perfect team goal—so perfect that even Suk and his teammates found it hard to believe.
"Brilliant!"
Oripé raised both hands high on the sideline, shouting in excitement.
"Beautiful! Beautiful! Absolutely fucking beautiful!"
It wasn't just the goal; the buildup itself was beautiful. And the fact that it ended in a goal made it simply a joy to watch.
For Oripé, an avid Arsenal fan, this brought immense satisfaction.
His team could also play the same beautiful football as Arsenal under the Professor.
Of course, there was an element of luck involved.
But who cared!
The goal was more than beautiful enough; it was definitely a contender for goal of the season.
In contrast, Leotar was completely stunned by the brilliant goal.