Chapter 33 - 31: Young Cheetah

Chapter 33: Chapter 31: Young Cheetah

The thrilling first half ended with Mostar Zrinjski and Sarajevo Railway Workers tied at 1:1.

Players Modric and Bosschenoqi each scored a goal for their respective sides.

The entire first half was an incredibly tight contest. Sarajevo Railway Workers had clearly come prepared. To counter Mostar Zrinjski’s tall center-forward, they had deployed Bosschenoqi, an outstanding player from the Croatian League, to shut him down.

It’s fair to say that Kosopech had an extremely frustrating first half. His usually unstoppable headers were completely neutralized by the opposition, leaving him with almost no opportunities.

Back in the locker room, Kosopech was visibly dejected.

"Use your heads! When your height advantage isn’t working, be proactive and act as a pivot! Distribute the ball to the wings, let the wingers attack the opponent’s box and draw their defensive focus away."

"Kosopech, you were too obsessed with battling your man!"

Van Stiake berated Kosopech for his first-half performance.

Kosopech hung his head, looking chagrined.

As the Head Coach dressed down the vice-captain, the other players held their breath. Suk, standing in a corner, felt his eyes darting around.

In his opinion, two players had a terrible first half.

One was Kosopech, the other was Oliveira.

That’s right.

Both vice-captains.

But compared to Kosopech, who kept trying to break through the opponent’s defense despite his struggles, Oliveira was just... lost.

The guy looked completely gassed; he’d started strolling around the pitch at the 30-minute mark.

At the same time, Suk noticed Oliveira watching Kosopech get chewed out with a smug look on his face.

’What’s that guy so smug about?’

Suk cursed inwardly.

"Suk!"

"Here!" Suk responded instinctively.

Van Stiake’s sudden call made everyone’s gaze shift to Suk.

Suk became the center of attention.

"Get ready to go in for the second half. I shouldn’t have to tell you how to play, right?"

Van Stiake was clearly in a foul mood. "Understood," Suk immediately replied.

Then, Van Stiake continued shouting, "Boamei! You’re playing right wing in the second half! Oliveira, you’re out!"

Suk noticed Oliveira’s expression freeze for a moment, then he just shrugged, as if to say he could finally get some rest.

Using two substitutions at halftime... It looked like Van Stiake was determined to change things up in the second half.

Of course, this was great news for Suk.

He was about to make his debut since joining the team, and it was also his first-ever match in the Bosnia and Herzegovina Super League.

"Don’t worry, Captain. I’ll go teach that big oaf a lesson for you!"

Suk plopped down next to Kosopech.

Kosopech turned to Suk and offered a kind warning, "Be careful. He’s not slow!"

Suk nodded, then jogged over to Boamei.

Boamei was looking down, adjusting his socks as he prepared to go on.

Suk got straight to the point. "At the start of the second half, let’s switch positions a lot. If I drift to the wing, you cut inside towards the center."

Boamei frowned slightly. He didn’t like anyone encroaching on his position.

However, Suk’s tactical importance was clearly higher than his, so he had no choice but to listen.

Boamei gave a slight nod in response.

Suk then ran over to Modric. "At the very beginning of the second half, I won’t drop back right away. I’m going to use my speed to make a few runs, create a false impression, and then hit them with the real thing! Until then, you’ll have to hold down the fort."

Modric nodded. Suk was very creative when it came to the game; his little tricks were always hard to guard against.

With his instructions given, Suk finally felt at ease.

He was also incredibly excited for his debut with Mostar Zrinjski.

...

"After the first half, the score is tied 1:1. Mostar Zrinjski’s aerial tactics have been completely ineffective against the High School Guard, Bosschenoqi."

"This is how they lost to Sarajevo in the last round. I think Head Coach Van Stiake needs to make some adjustments."

"And just now, we’ve received news of a substitution. Mostar Zrinjski is finally making a change. Kosopech and Oliveira are coming off, and their replacements are Suk and Boamei... huh? Hmm?"

The commentator for the Bosnia and Herzegovina Super League, Basodachi, suddenly paused.

Suk?

The name sounded a little familiar.

Soon, he recalled the Mostar derby in the Bosnia and Herzegovina Cup.

That short center-forward who led a first-division team and gave Mostar Zrinjski nonstop trouble!

He’s here?

A glint appeared in Basodachi’s eyes. In fact, after that entertaining match, he had paid special attention to the Mostar Wanderers.

But because information was scarce and there was so little data, his understanding was incomplete.

A 150-centimeter center-forward... he thought he’d never see that interesting kid again. He never expected to see him again so soon.

Basodachi shifted in his seat, leaned one hand on the commentary desk, and said with a playful smile, "Suk... now he’s a very interesting player. Although he’s only 150 centimeters tall, he can make for a very interesting game!"

The commentator’s voice boomed from the stadium’s loudspeakers.

Suk heard it the moment he stepped out of the locker room. He furiously shook his fist in the direction of the commentary booth.

"I’m 156 centimeters, you bastard!"

PFFT!

Modric couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

"I’ve grown a whole six centimeters! That’s six centimeters! It’s a lot! Is he blind, can’t he see?"

Suk felt so wronged!

Modric turned his head and kept laughing.

Behind them, Mashovich and the others were also grinning from ear to ear.

"No one’s going to care that you grew six centimeters, because around here, you’re still a pipsqueak!"

Hajdari teased with a smile.

Suk was instantly bummed out.

’Yeah, yeah, yeah! You’re all so tall! Happy now?’

With a gloomy expression, Suk followed his teammates onto the pitch. At the same time, the players from Sarajevo Railway Workers also emerged.

After the teams switched sides and took their positions, the Sarajevo Railway Workers players stared at the little guy in front of them, their faces a picture of utter confusion.

Sarajevo Railway Workers’ number 10 and star player, Vukocic, stared at Suk’s miniature frame, rubbed his eyes, and stared again. He then turned to his teammate, who could only shrug in response.

Clearly, Suk’s height had made quite an impact on them.

As for the Mostar Zrinjski fans, they were also looking at Suk in surprise.

Mainly, the impression this little guy had left on them was just too deep.

Despite being only around 150 centimeters tall, he had repeatedly caused them trouble.

They admitted Suk had played well in that Bosnia and Herzegovina Cup match, but this was the Bosnia and Herzegovina Super League. Could he really handle it?

Mulinar and the others shared the same concern.

After all, they had played with a full reserve squad in the Bosnia and Herzegovina Cup; the difference in intensity was huge.

They didn’t know how his training at Mostar Zrinjski had been, so they couldn’t help but worry.

"Go, Suk!"

Buckqi shouted loudly towards the field.

At the same time, the referee blew the whistle to start the second half.

Suk immediately passed the Ball to Billiar beside him, then charged upfield, planting himself right next to Bosschenoqi.

There was a good 40-centimeter height difference between Bosschenoqi and Suk. He had to look down just to see him.

It was undeniably a distraction, forcing him to constantly look down to keep an eye on the little guy.

Standing next to Bosschenoqi, Suk could also clearly feel the pressure. A physical contest between them would be completely one-sided, so Suk needed to rely on his movement.

Soon, Bosschenoqi started to feel dizzy. A short spinning top was circling around him—who could handle that?

However, at this moment, all the attention was on Modric. Few people were paying attention to Suk.

Suk took this opportunity to prepare for a few powerful runs. If he could score a goal, all the better.

Just then, after a series of feints, shifting the ball left and right on the wing, Modric finally squeezed through a gap between two defenders.

The moment he looked up, Suk had already turned sideways, ready for the pass.

"Suk!"

Modric roared, locked his ankle, and sent a direct through-ball forward.

At that exact same moment, Suk ducked his head, lowered his body, turned, and sprinted—all in one fluid motion.

Bosschenoqi was a beat slow to turn. The weakness of a High School Guard like him was a lack of agility. Desperate, he reached out, trying to grab Suk.

But Suk was just too small!

Especially when crouched low, Suk’s head practically scraped past the defender’s thigh.

Bosschenoqi’s grab met nothing but air, and Suk had already completed his turn.

WHOOSH!!

The moment Suk pushed off the ground, he shot forward like an arrow from a bow, his speed simply astonishing.

"Suk! He’s off!!"

The commentator, Basodachi, slammed his desk and shot to his feet. This was the moment he had been waiting for.

That breathtaking speed, that rapid footwork... like a young cheetah in full sprint, he tore straight through the opponent’s defensive line.

In the stands, the Mostar Zrinjski fans also rose to their feet with cries of amazement.

They watched Suk’s blistering speed, which the Sarajevo Railway Workers’ defenders simply couldn’t match.

At this moment, their hearts were pounding with excitement.

"Go, Suk!"

"Run!!"

"Shoot! Shoot!"

On the bench, everyone, including Head Coach Van Stiake and Kosopech, shot to their feet, craning their necks to watch.

This was a golden opportunity.

Suk was sprinting frantically up ahead.

Behind him was a pack of sluggish defenders.

As Suk broke into the penalty area, he finally looked up.

The opposing goalkeeper was already charging out. Suk aimed a shot with the instep of his foot.

The Ball grazed the keeper’s gloves, then skimmed past the goalpost and went out of bounds.

"Ahhh, so close! That wasn’t the best shot!"

Commentator Basodachi shook his head in disappointment.

The fans in the stadium clutched their heads, their faces full of frustration.

However, they soon broke into spontaneous applause.

Although it didn’t result in a goal, that surging forward run had torn the Sarajevo Railway Workers’ defense to shreds and posed a massive threat.