"Alright, men! Our performance in the first half was fantastic. Everything is going according to plan!"
Inside the locker room, Oripé clapped his hands, loudly boosting their morale.
The players' faces broke into smiles as they listened to Oripé speak.
Even though the first half had been a grueling stalemate and they were exhausted from the fight.
They had still managed to hold the line, keeping the score at 0-0.
"Buckqi made some brilliant saves, too!" Mulinar said with a laugh.
At his words, Buckqi lifted his chin smugly. Seeing his conceited expression, the others couldn't help but chuckle.
Still, Buckqi's phenomenal performance had definitely been a huge morale boost.
If he'd reverted to his usual sieve-like form, they might have conceded several goals in the first half.
But luck was on their side.
"Suk!"
Oripé turned to look at Suk, and all eyes in the room instantly followed.
"Here!"
Suk yelled back, not even out of breath. Though there were traces of sweat on his jersey, they were already mostly dry.
Everyone had seen Suk's performance in the first half. As a center forward, he could have just waited up front for passes; there was no need for him to drop back and help with the defense.
But it was precisely because Suk tracked back to help defend that they had been able to repeatedly break up the opponent's midfield attacks and launch counters of their own.
Throughout the entire first half, Suk hadn't taken a single shot, but his several penetrating passes and link-up plays gave them a major confidence boost.
The Mostar Wanderers players were no longer intimidated like they had been at kickoff.
After playing for a half, they even felt they had a chance to win the game.
Of course, everything depended on their 'little' center forward.
"How's your stamina holding up?" Oripé asked with concern.
After all, it was unlikely that anyone could still have much energy left after sprinting all over the pitch for a half like Suk had.
But Suk just gave a thumbs-up. "Fully charged! Just get the ball to me, I'm ready to tear into their defensive line!"
At his words, smiles returned to everyone's faces.
This was especially true for Mulinar. He knew that if they were going to win this match, Suk had to deliver.
As embarrassing as it was to admit, they were truly betting their chances of victory on Suk.
Besides, judging from Suk's condition, it really didn't look like he'd used much energy at all, which was a bizarre thing to see.
"Good." Oripé nodded sharply, a fierce light in his eyes. He clenched his fist and roared, "In the second half, let's show them what we're made of!"
Meanwhile, in the opposing team's locker room.
Van Stiake was absolutely livid.
"Your attack is sluggish, and your defense is a complete mess!"
"Where are the forward runs from the fullbacks? The overlaps?"
"You aren't stretching the play wide enough on the wings, and the midfield is pure chaos."
"Bastlov, how many times have I told you? Drop deep to get the ball! Don't just stick to the forward line! Your job is to draw their defenders out, so the wingers can cut inside!"
Van Stiake pointed toward the pitch and roared, "Look at how their center forward is playing!"
Bastlov was still reeling from the verbal assault and hadn't yet come to his senses. When he finally did, he found Head Coach Van Stiake staring daggers at him.
"You're zoning out while I'm talking tactics?"
Van Stiake's voice dropped to a low, dangerous tone, making it feel like he was about to erupt.
Bastlov panicked and quickly tried to explain. "Coach, I—"
Van Stiake cut him off with a wave of his hand. "Just do your job in the second half. You'd better prove you're useful."
Hearing the coach's teeth-grinding tone, Bastlov's stomach churned with anxiety. He could only bite the bullet and nod.
"Second half, keep pressing them! Don't forget to work as a unit! Total football—whether you're attacking or defending, you maintain your shape!" Van Stiake jabbed a finger at his own temple. "Use those thick skulls of yours and think!"
Finally, Van Stiake pointed at center-back Bokachi. "Mark their number nine. That little guy will frequently drop back. Follow him when he does, and pressure him before he can touch the ball."
Bokachi nodded immediately. "Got it."
CLAP CLAP CLAP!
Van Stiake clapped his hands to get their attention.
"Alright. In the second half, Suk's stamina has to be low. Use that chance to score."
And with that, Van Stiake concluded his halftime tirade.
The players just looked at each other, confused.
'Who's Suk?'
Modric whispered, "Their number nine is named Suk."
Everyone's eyes widened in understanding, only to be replaced by confusion.
'The Head Coach knew their number nine's name?'
Van Stiake was now leaning one shoulder against the wall, furiously scribbling in a notebook.
He sketched a tactical formation in the notebook and began adding arrows to indicate player movement.
He occasionally jotted down notes in the margins.
He was completely engrossed in the diagram, and a gleam slowly started to appear in his eyes.
As the drawing in his notebook grew more chaotic, almost like a doodle, the strategy in his mind grew sharper and more distinct.
Haaaah...
Van Stiake snapped the notebook shut and let out a soft breath. 'Let's just see...'
...
Modric felt a sense of elation. Even though the team was in a tough spot, he was happy for his friend's performance.
Modric felt little loyalty to Mostar Zrinjski. As such, he was more concerned with his friend's performance than with the outcome of the match.
Suk's first-half performance had been thrilling, even for him.
His relentless running in the first half had put immense pressure on their ability to play out from the back. At the same time, he was constantly making interceptions and tackles to break up their midfield play.
You could say that Suk had been the key to neutralizing their attack in the first half.
And on the counter, Suk's link-up play and passing were on full display.
However, Mostar Wanderers' two wingers had dull instincts in front of goal. They couldn't get on the end of Suk's passes and failed to score.
With a better striker on the receiving end, Zrinjski probably would have been trailing by now.
But what made Modric happiest was the change he saw in Head Coach Van Stiake.
Modric was introverted and highly sensitive, a nature that made him acutely aware of the changes around him.
He could clearly sense that Head Coach Van Stiake had begun to watch Suk closely. This feeling grew stronger after Suk orchestrated a few brilliant link-up plays.
But it made sense.
Van Stiake was a Dutch Head Coach, a devotee of the "total football" philosophy. In that sense, Suk's first-half performance was a perfect fit for his tactical 'aesthetic'.
Aside from his height and build, Suk's performance was like a cannon blast straight to Van Stiake's heart.
A mix of tension and pleasant surprise.
Mostar Zrinjski currently had a holdover tactic: a British-style long-ball game using their tall center forward, Kosopech, as a battering ram.
In that system, Modric served as a launchpad from midfield, his long-range shots a constant threat to the opposing goal.
But Van Stiake looked down on such a crude tactic. He wanted to play a more refined game.
To that end, he was always asking the substitute center forward, Bastlov, to drop deep and play as a false nine. In reality, Bastlov had no idea what the Head Coach was talking about. He was tactically inept—to put it bluntly, he was thick and couldn't think on his feet.
After so many failed attempts, Van Stiake was on the verge of losing all hope.
But now, seeing Suk's performance was like a drowning man finding a lifeline.
It was a thin lifeline, but it gave Van Stiake a glimmer of hope.
Based on the first half alone, Suk had already captured Van Stiake's interest. As for the second half, as long as Suk didn't make any major, glaring errors, everything else would fall into place.
At this thought, Modric couldn't help but let out a small laugh.
"What's so funny?"
Kosopech turned to look at Modric.
Modric immediately wiped the smile off his face and mumbled, "It's nothing!"
Kosopech scratched his head and smiled. "Got any plans tonight? I'd like to invite you over to my place for dinner."
Kosopech was extending an olive branch to the young Croatian prodigy. As a fellow Croat, Kosopech felt he should build a good relationship with Modric, even though Modric's withdrawn personality made him notoriously difficult to approach.
Sure enough, Modric shook his head. "I have plans tonight."
Kosopech sighed inwardly. "All right, well, maybe next time then."
'I want to say no to 'next time' too,' Modric thought, his lips barely moving.
By the time they returned to the bench, the teams had already switched ends for the second half.
The commentator's voice crackled with excitement.
"After a surprisingly tight first half, the score remains 0-0! The fellow Mostar First League team has landed a heavy blow on our local giants!"
"Throughout the first half, the Mostar Wanderers have been outstanding! Their work rate has been incredible, their defense is airtight, and their 'little' center forward, Suk, has been especially brilliant! We'll be looking forward to seeing if he can continue his fantastic performance in the second half!"
The vast majority of the fans in the stadium now knew the name Suk.
It was hard not to notice Suk, who, despite being only 155 centimeters tall, was playing a spectacular match.
After all, for the entire first half, it felt like all anyone could see was Suk sprinting all over the pitch.
He was there in the attack.
He was there in defense.
It was hard to dislike a player who fought so hard. Even though he was on the opposing team, the sight of his relentless effort was inspiring.
Of course, the Mostar Zrinjski fans simply saw it as a fluke.
They were confident that after some halftime adjustments, their team would secure victory in the second half. Besides, Suk's stamina must be completely shot; there was no way he could replicate his first-half running.
And just then, the whistle blew, and the second half began.
The moment the match restarted, Suk immediately darted into the opposing defensive line and planted himself there.
Seeing Suk no longer running around like he did in the first half, a gloating smile spread across Bokachi's face.
'Yeah, keep running! Keep running!'
'Out of gas now, aren't you?'