Chapter 28 - 26: The Newcomer

Chapter 28: Chapter 26: The Newcomer

The process of joining Mostar Zrinjski went smoothly.

On the first day, Suk and Modric went to the cafeteria to eat. They had fresh milk and a decent selection of tasty food.

Suk ate a hearty meal. After returning to his dorm that night, he started studying the player profiles.

"Kish, starting goalkeeper, from the Bosnia and Herzegovina national team, 191 cm tall..." Suk grinned. ’So tall!’

"Haskic, left back, good at overlapping runs, excellent passing ability."

"Mashovich, center back, an Air Dominator! Another one over 190 cm tall."

"Hajdari, 181 cm, strong predictive ability, good at pressing forward to tackle."

"Boban, defensive midfielder..."

"Kosopech, 192 cm, a tall center forward, the team’s top scorer, and the third captain."

"Oliveira, right winger, the team’s second captain."

Suk looked left and right, but he didn’t see the captain mentioned.

"Where’s our captain?" Suk asked Modric.

Modric was lying on his bed, reading a book. Without looking up, he said, "I don’t know. Never met him."

Suk: "..."

’This guy has been with the club for almost half a year and has never met the captain?’

’How has he been getting by?’

After briefly memorizing the player information, Suk put the papers aside, pulled the covers over his head, and got ready for sleep.

"I’m going to sleep. I have to be the first one at the training ground tomorrow," Suk said from under the covers.

Modric: "You don’t have to go that early!"

Suk laughed. "You don’t get it. I’m ’the new guy’!"

...

Back when he was a child in the orphanage, Suk had come to deeply understand this principle.

The new guy always gets bullied!

The phrase "the new guy" naturally came with a "bully me" aura. In an unfamiliar environment, small cliques loved to do this sort of thing.

It was the same principle as when nine-year-old Suk led a few other little kids to snatch half a slice of bread and a carton of milk from a tall and burly thirteen-year-old boy.

If it was like that in the relatively innocent environment of an orphanage, this place was far more treacherous.

Modric didn’t have to worry about these things. He naturally had the aura of a genius and was a key prospect watched by the club’s top brass, which meant he had powerful backing.

But even so, Modric was still a bit of a lone figure in this team.

If even a genius was like that, a pipsqueak like Suk had to be even more careful.

After all, just three weeks ago, he had disrespectfully assisted Mulinar in scoring a goal against Mostar Zrinjski.

Even though they were all just substitutes, there were still some hard feelings involved.

The next day, Suk got up early. He folded his bedding, washed up, and set off for the training ground ahead of time.

The training ground was right next door. When Suk and Modric arrived, no one else was there yet.

"See? I told you it was too early."

Modric said with a yawn.

Suk glanced around. The locker room was closed, and the door to the equipment room was also locked.

’Looks like we really are a bit too early.’

"Let’s just squat."

Suk plopped down into a squat by the locker room door, and Modric reluctantly copied him.

The two of them squatted for about half an hour before the equipment manager finally arrived.

"Don’t you know training starts at eight?" the equipment manager, Pakic, asked curiously.

Suk immediately replied, "We couldn’t wait to start training."

Pakic smiled. He liked this motivated kid.

After opening the locker room door, Pakic chuckled. "Go on in. Stop squatting."

Suk and Modric immediately went inside.

Walking into the locker room, Modric went straight to his locker, while Suk looked around and realized he didn’t have one yet.

Fortunately, he found a spot on the fringe and started changing into his jersey.

Soon, the first person to walk in was the starting center forward, Kosopech.

At 192 cm, Kosopech had to duck his head as he entered the locker room. He was powerfully built, and his sleeveless shirt and shorts made him look even more formidable.

When Suk saw Kosopech, he immediately called out, "Hello, Vice-Captain!"

Kosopech paused for a moment. He looked at Suk and quickly recalled that match.

"Suk?"

Suk nodded quickly.

Kosopech smiled and extended his hand. "You played outstandingly in that match."

Suk immediately shook his head, feigning a dejected look. "I gave it my all, but everything fell apart as soon as you came on the field, Vice-Captain. That header you scored was just incredible..."

As he spoke, Suk looked at Kosopech with an envious expression. "I wish I were that tall."

Kosopech was clearly pleased. No one dislikes being praised.

He clapped Suk on the shoulder and laughed. "You’ll have a growth spurt too. Get some more nutrients, don’t rush it."

Modric watched in surprise as Suk and Kosopech started chatting.

The two were talking up a storm. In all the time he’d been with Mostar Zrinjski, he had never spoken so much with Kosopech.

But what surprised him even more was that as the other starting players walked in, Suk called each of them by name without missing a single one, praising them for their recent performances.

And he always picked out matches where those starters had played exceptionally well.

He was animated, sometimes looking regretful, sometimes emotional, sometimes excited, gesturing with his hands and feet.

After half an hour, Suk had completely immersed himself in the group and was even starting to joke around freely.

Modric watched, dumbfounded.

Just as everyone was deep in lively conversation, the sound of the door opening cut through the noise.

A man of about 175 cm walked in. He had a buzz cut, a lean build, and slightly squinted eyes. Two other men followed behind him.

Suk recognized him at a glance: the team’s other vice-captain, Oliveira. The two men behind him were the starting defensive midfielder, Boban, and the left winger, Billiar.

Seeing it was the vice-captain, Suk was about to run over and greet him, but Kosopech grabbed him and pulled him back.

Suk looked up, confused.

Kosopech gave a slight shake of his head but offered no explanation.

Soon, the locker room was packed. All the substitutes and starters had arrived.

Suk hid himself in the crowd, mainly because the stares from those around him made him feel extremely helpless.

Aside from the starters, the substitute players had an especially deep impression of Suk.

This was the pipsqueak who had hammered their defensive line, making them look utterly pathetic time and again.

Because of that match, they had even gotten a harsh scolding from the Head Coach. It would be a lie to say they weren’t mad.

Suk understood this, so he did his best to hide and avoid attracting anyone’s attention.

CREAK!

The door creaked open, and Head Coach Van Stiake walked in, leading a group of people.

This was Mostar Zrinjski’s coaching staff, four people in total.

Head Coach: Van Stiake.

Assistant Coach: Fandier.

Fitness Coach: Hartbachi.

Goalkeeper Coach: Sost.

Van Stiake stood at the doorway, first scanning the room, then looking down at the notebook in his hand. "Today’s training schedule: first, a 20-minute warm-up. In the morning, we’ll practice basic passing and receiving drills. In the afternoon, we’ll have an intrasquad scrimmage!"

In the future, the trend would be toward high-efficiency training models, with sessions generally kept under two hours, some even strictly controlled to 90 minutes of high-intensity work.

For now, however, training was mostly like this, focused on long drills that tested endurance more than efficiency.

After hearing the training plan, the players began to file out of the locker room.

Suk had also changed into his new training uniform. It was quite loose on him, mainly because they didn’t have his size. The club wasn’t going to custom-tailor it for him, so he had to make do for now. He’d find time to get it altered at a tailor’s shop later.

Out on the training ground, the players began to gather in small groups.

Locker rooms are always full of cliques, and Mostar Zrinjski was no exception.

Suk saw that the largest group had formed around Oliveira, about ten people in total, but with very few starters among them.

Kosopech’s group was slightly smaller, but it was mostly made up of Croats, and most of them were starters.

"Where should we go?"

Suk looked at Modric. Compared to Suk, he was a team veteran; he should have some idea!

But Modric’s answer was...

"Train on our own!"

Suk rolled his eyes in annoyance.

’This guy is completely unreliable.’

"Let’s go," Suk said, pulling Modric along.

"Where to?" Modric asked, puzzled.

Suk: "To train!"

Soon, Suk was pulling Modric along as he ran toward Kosopech’s group.

"Vice-Captain, need more people? Let’s warm up together!"

Kosopech watched this unfold in surprise.

Suk had actually managed to drag Modric over, even though the latter seemed rather reluctant.

Most of the starters in Kosopech’s group exchanged glances, their eyes lighting up slightly.

The two of them joined the group as a matter of course.

Suk knew one thing very clearly: in a group like this, being a loner meant you were an outsider, and being an outsider meant you’d get picked on.

Modric might be an exception, but Suk didn’t dare to be on his own.

Compared to Oliveira’s group, Kosopech’s was clearly a better fit. They were also Croats and spoke the same language.

The group stood in a circle, doing a keep-up drill, trying not to let the ball touch the ground.

It was a way to train one’s feel for the ball.

In the middle of the drill, Kosopech suddenly said, "You made the right choice."

Suk turned to look at him, confused.

Kosopech gestured with his chin, and Suk followed his gaze.

It was Oliveira’s circle. They were also doing a keep-up drill.

But unlike their group, whose goal was to keep the ball in the air, the other group’s drill was more of a cruel game.

Suk saw Vice-Captain Oliveira deliberately kick the ball toward a substitute’s feet several times, making it impossible for him to receive it smoothly. Immediately, a crowd of players would swarm him and kick him hard on the butt.

It might look like a joke, but if the person on the receiving end isn’t having fun, it’s just bullying.

Moreover, these guys were intentionally passing the ball to one person, forcing him to lose control and suffer the punishment.

Suk had some recollection of the guy who had been kicked in the butt several times.

In the match three weeks ago, this winger, named Boamei, had been a constant threat on their flank. He was a very capable player.

"See that?" Kosopech said, looking at Suk. "If you had gone over to greet him earlier, that would have been you."

Suk grinned wryly.

Suk was distracted, and just then, the ball hit the tip of his foot and bounced away.

’Crap!’

Suk was shocked.

’A dirty trick?’

The players around him were already rushing over with mischievous grins.

Suk immediately covered his butt, but just as he thought it was about to get pummeled, everyone crowded around, ruffled his hair, and shouted:

"Welcome to HSK (Mostar Zrinjski)!"

"Welcome, Suk!"