Mostar Zrinjski initiated their attack from the wings, a strategy based on the famous Dutch tactic of "total football," which makes full use of the space along the flanks.
After receiving the ball, Boamei didn't rush to pass. Instead, he skillfully kept it under his control.
Although Vitolic had already closed in, Boamei was so confident in his own technique that he paid his opponent no mind.
Vitolic shuffled his feet cautiously. Seeing his opponent's wary posture, Boamei repeatedly feinted a powerful charge, throwing Vitolic off balance with a mocking air.
Just as a confident Boamei prepared to break through along the wing, he suddenly heard the frantic pounding of footsteps from behind.
Before Boamei could even turn his head, a fierce shout erupted from behind him.
"Get him!"
At once, Vitolic took off, charging toward Boamei.
Boamei was startled. He hadn't expected the guy to be so decisive.
But just as he was about to pull the ball back, he caught a glimpse of someone surging forward from diagonally behind him.
The yellow and black striped jersey told him it wasn't a teammate.
In his haste, Boamei quickly passed the ball.
At that very moment, Suk desperately stretched out his short legs. They might have been short, but they were long enough.
THWACK!
The ball struck the top of his foot and rolled into the Mostar Wanderers' half, where Mulinar brought it under his control.
"Whoa!"
On the Mostar Zrinjski bench, starting forward Kosopech sat up a little straighter, letting out a cry of surprise.
Clearly, Suk dropping back to press the ball had played a crucial role.
Modric also smiled and nodded, his eyes still fixed on Suk.
Suk scrambled up from the ground. Instead of launching an attack upfield, he ran laterally to offer support.
At this point, most of the attention was on Suk, and Mostar Zrinjski's defensive line tightened toward the center in response.
After gaining possession, Mulinar immediately sprinted forward. As an opponent closed in to challenge him, he passed the ball ahead.
Suk continued his lateral run. After receiving Mulinar's pass, he trapped the ball and tapped it back, then made a ninety-degree turn and sprinted forward, completely ignoring the ball.
Thanks to this quick one-two, Mulinar shook off his defender, collected the ball Suk had laid off, and charged toward the middle.
A simple passing combination and the two players' rapid forward surge threw the entire Mostar Zrinjski defense into chaos.
Mulinar surged through the middle while Suk sprinted down the wing.
The two Mostar Wanderers wingers, Vitolic and Maslozic, cut inside up ahead, and the Mostar Zrinjski defenders had no idea who to mark.
"Stop him!"
Mostar Zrinjski's full-back, Lovich, pointed at Mulinar and roared.
Hearing the shout, the midfielders immediately rushed toward him.
At that same moment, Mulinar passed the ball out to the wing.
The ball landed perfectly in the path of the sprinting Suk.
Lovich immediately charged toward Suk.
But Suk was closer to the ball. With no time to adjust, he arced his run slightly and swept it directly toward the middle.
The ball threaded the needle between Mostar Zrinjski's full-back and center-back, arriving accurately in front of the goal.
"Danger!!!——"
The commentator, a beat behind the action, finally cried out in alarm.
Vitolic and Maslozic, one after the other, went for a sliding shot, but both mistimed it. The ball slid past them and was brought under control by Mostar Zrinjski's other full-back, Stelk.
The danger for Mostar Zrinjski was averted.
"A brilliant and fluid counter-attack! From the interception to the final ball, just four passes were enough to tear open Mostar Zrinjski's defense and get the ball right in front of the goal. They were just a touch unlucky, but the Mostar Wanderers have just given us an absolutely textbook display of a defensive counter-attack!"
The commentator was getting hyped, shouting in excitement.
What everyone expected to be a one-sided slaughter was turning out to be anything but. The Mostar Wanderers had struck first, their interception and counter-attack creating the first real threat on Mostar Zrinjski's goal.
And at the heart of it all, Suk, wearing the number 9 jersey, had played a crucial role.
Both his interception and his two passing decisions during the counter-attack were key to orchestrating the entire play.
'This little guy is something else!'
AHHHH!!!!
Suk clutched his head, letting out a wail of despair.
'Such a great chance! How did we waste it?!'
'Vitolic and Maslozic... their finishing instincts are utter trash!'
But Suk didn't have much time to complain. He turned and immediately began tracking back to join the defense.
As Suk continued to track back on defense, the eyes of the fans, and even the opposing players, were fixed on him.
Van Stiake, in particular, stared blankly at Suk.
He hadn't expected this kind of performance from Suk—a series of one-touch passes that both avoided physical confrontations and seamlessly linked the attacking play.
'He's doing his best to mitigate his weaknesses while amplifying his strengths.'
'Based on his performance since the opening whistle, the kid's been outstanding.'
And it was at this moment that Van Stiake's attention began to fixate on Suk.
'A center forward, actively dropping back to defend!'
Van Stiake nodded slightly, appreciating Suk's work rate.
Any other head coach, under the current tactical mindset, would probably think Suk was neglecting his duties. A center forward who doesn't attack the defensive line, but instead drops back to defend?
However, for a head coach from the Netherlands who revered "total football," he loved Suk's attitude and work rate.
'His fighting spirit is incredible!'
Van Stiake nodded again before his brow furrowed. Looking at his own team's sluggish attack, he couldn't help but feel annoyed.
"What is the full-back doing?! There's open space ahead! Make the run!!"
Van Stiake couldn't help but roar.
In truth, his job wasn't going smoothly at all. Implementing an entirely new tactical system with a new team was an incredibly difficult task in itself.
What's more, these big, burly players from Bosnia and Herzegovina only seemed to understand how to brawl in the midfield; they had no concept of tactical coordination or movement off the ball.
Explaining tactics to them was like talking to a brick wall.
Even now, these guys couldn't grasp the concepts of linking up play or penetrating the defense through coordination.
Thankfully, Modric's presence gave him hope that the team could be reshaped. Otherwise, it would be a massive headache.
But right now, it was a full substitute lineup, and the team lacked a midfield maestro like Modric. Especially with Suk's relentless running causing disruptions, the players' style had devolved into chaos again.
"Link up! Link up!"
"Push up! What are you afraid of!"
"Get back! Get back!"
"What are you doing just standing there? Don't you see their center forward is running? You get back on defense, now!"
Van Stiake's furious roars echoed across the pitch.
As the match progressed, they gradually found themselves on the back foot.
Suk's desperate running and the Mostar Wanderers' tight "park the bus" formation were having an effect.
They repelled the opposition's attacks time and again, then used Suk up front to link up counter-attacks, constantly pressuring the defensive line from the wings.
Although they failed to score, they repeatedly prodded and provoked Mostar Zrinjski's backline.
What should have been an easy day for the defense had turned into a battering, and the players were growing restless and irritable.
"This... is quite the surprise!" the commentator exclaimed, watching Mostar Zrinjski's defense get breached time and time again.
He never imagined the match would unfold like this.
Although Mostar Zrinjski had their own share of threatening attacks, the Mostar Wanderers were hammering their defensive line in return.
This was not how the match was supposed to go.
What should have been a dominant performance by Mostar Zrinjski had turned into a scrappy knife fight, a contest to see who could hold on the longest.
This threw the rhythm of the game into chaos. The Mostar Zrinjski players, so confident before the match, were now playing with a sense of dread.
The defenders, in particular, felt that Suk's link-up play was incredibly dangerous.
'How is this shorty so annoying?'
'Annoying is the whole point!'
Suk was panting heavily; he was burning through a massive amount of stamina.
But his plan was to burn through all his stamina by halftime, draining the opponent's energy reserves in the process.
So far, the plan was going very smoothly.
They'd had several brilliant counter-attacks; the only pity was their failure to score.
But as long as they prevented the other team from scoring, the pressure would remain, which would only accelerate their opponents' stamina drain.
After all, with the match developing this way, Mostar Zrinjski was the side under more pressure.
Even a draw would be a huge loss of face for Mostar Zrinjski.
Then there was the opponent's complacency.
The Mostar Wanderers had come prepared. They had a plan and were executing it smoothly, which put even more pressure on their opponents.
Suk wiped the sweat from his brow and began to run even harder.
"Get him!"
Suk launched into a slide tackle, blocking the opponent's passing lane. At the same time, Mulinar and Vitolic closed in from the front and back, trapping their man and successfully winning the ball.
Suk scrambled up in a flash and took off again. Just as he began sprinting toward the opponent's goal, the referee suddenly blew his whistle.
FWEEET~~~
The halftime whistle blew.
Suk slowly came to a stop, his chest heaving violently.
He glanced at the clock and saw that 45 minutes had already passed.
'Time flew by so fast.'
Suk swallowed hard, then plopped right down on the grass, gasping for air.
'So damn tired!'
For the entire half, Suk had barely rested, constantly tracking back to help defend.
Thanks to the tireless running and tight defense from Suk and his teammates, they had finally completed their objective for the first half.
The halftime score was 0-0.
Suk lay on his back, a smile spreading across his face.
'Mission accomplished.'
Hehe!
'Just you wait for the second half. I'll show you what's what.'
With that thought, Suk pulled up his personal status screen and immediately used a Status Recovery Card.
Including this one, Suk only had two Status Recovery Cards left.
But Suk believed you had to use them when it counted. When it was time to gamble, you had to go all in.
You had to save your best tools for the most critical moments.
The next second, a cool sensation spread throughout his body, and Suk let out a comfortable groan.
Mostar Zrinjski's center forward, Bastlov, walked toward the player tunnel.
He looked dejected, clearly unsatisfied with his own first-half performance.
He'd had a few chances but failed to capitalize on them, and he was frustrated at his inability to break the deadlock.
Of course, that shorty center forward on the other team had also caused them a lot of trouble on the attack.
Just then, he saw Suk lying flat on his back, panting like an ox. A smug smile crept onto his face.
'That guy ran himself ragged in the first half. His stamina must be completely shot.'
'That kind of self-destructive running can't last.'
'Let's see him try to cause any more trouble in the second half.'
Bastlov breathed a quiet sigh of relief.
But just then, he saw Suk place his hands on either side of his head, arch his back, and kick his legs up, performing a perfect kip-up.
"Hup!"
He landed steadily in a horse stance before jogging away.
Bastlov: "!!!"