Chapter 41 - 39: Fighting on Two Fronts

Chapter 41: Chapter 39: Fighting on Two Fronts

Banja Luka Warriors was a predominantly Serbian football club, located in Banja Luka, the second-largest city in Bosnia and Herzegovina.

Their home ground was called City Stadium, located in the heart of Banja Luka.

The stadium was slightly larger than Jirinsky Stadium, with an officially announced capacity of 30,000. It had seated stands on two sides with about 5,000 seats, while the east and west ends were standing-only terraces.

But this was understandable. After all, Jirinsky Stadium only had 1,000 seats but claimed a total capacity of 20,000 people.

Banja Luka Warriors had a better turnout, with an average attendance of around 1,500.

Of course, this was only in comparison to Mostar Zrinjski’s dismal attendance. It was nothing compared to other leagues, especially the Five Major Leagues, where attendance figures could easily reach tens of thousands.

The Mostar Zrinjski players entered from a side gate.

They had to cross the pitch and enter the locker room through the players’ tunnel.

Because of this, as they stepped onto the pitch, the nearly 1,500 Banja Luka Warriors fans in attendance gave them a fierce ’welcome’.

BOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

A torrent of boos rained down, accompanied by waves of curses and insults.

"Kosopig! You’re a stupid pig! You’re going to lose here!"

"The Banja Luka Warriors will kick your heads off!"

"Disgusting Croatian bastards, get out!"

All along the way, the menacing Serbian fans hurled the most humiliating insults they could muster at the Mostar Zrinjski players.

As Mostar Zrinjski’s star striker, Kosopech bore the brunt of it.

However, Kosopech still looked incredibly sleepy, as if he were completely used to it.

"They’re yelling because they’re afraid of me."

Kosopech yawned and grinned. "I once scored four goals against them in their own stadium. How much they hate me is just a measure of how much they fear me."

Kosopech looked incredibly smug.

Suk, walking beside Kosopech, tried his best to keep a low profile, but he was still singled out.

"Damn Croatian kid, you’ll find out what hell is like here! Go to hell! All you Croatian People should go to hell!"

A middle-aged man built like a bowling ball unleashed a torrent of abuse at Suk.

Suk froze for a second, then turned, clenched his fist, and cursed back, "Dumbass! Are you blind? How the hell do I look Croatian?"

With his distinctly East Asian features, being called a Croatian kid was ridiculous. These guys were just hating blindly.

Suk was both furious and amused.

As he followed the team across the pitch, the boos and curses continued nonstop.

Once they entered the players’ tunnel, things finally quieted down.

"Those assholes!"

Suk couldn’t help but swear under his breath.

"Don’t mind them. They’re just a bunch of losers," Kosopech said with a laugh. "They don’t just curse us; they’ll curse their own team for no reason, too."

Suk paused.

"They curse their own team?"

Right on cue, a fresh torrent of abuse erupted from outside.

"Zakavic, stop thinking with that pig brain of yours and just make a tackle! Do you even know how to slide tackle?"

"Luka Ojic, you coward, run! Where’s your Speed? Idiot!"

"Vranesic, you useless forward!"

Soon, Suk saw a group of Banja Luka Warriors players scurrying dejectedly into the players’ tunnel.

They, too, looked furious but didn’t dare to say a word.

After all, these were their own fans. No matter how nasty the insults got, they were coming from their own side.

Suk was speechless.

These fans were really something else, masters of psychological warfare.

The players from both teams headed to their locker rooms, changed into their training kits, and went out to warm up.

They were still met with boos and curses. It seemed like the fans weren’t here to watch a match, but to blow off steam.

Suk wondered what on earth had happened to these people to make them so dissatisfied with their lives.

While Suk was retrieving a ball, that same fat fan started laying into him again.

Having had enough, Suk flipped him the ’international sign of greeting’.

"Eat shit, you stupid pig!"

Suk yelled, then immediately turned and ran off.

The fat fan froze for a second, then turned beet red, as if he’d hit his boiling point, and unleashed an even more ferocious tirade at Suk.

Suk ignored it all and, after finishing his warm-up, followed the team back to the locker room.

"They’re likely to play rough today. We need to maintain our rhythm, but also do your best not to get injured." After speaking, Head Coach Van Stiake turned to Suk. "This is your first start, and the intensity will be high. You need to learn to protect yourself and manage your stamina. Got it?"

Suk nodded immediately. "Got it!"

"All right!" Van Stiake clapped his hands. "Let’s take three points from this place!"

"Let’s go, lads!"

Led by their on-pitch captain, Kish, the players all filed out of the locker room.

As the center-forward, Suk naturally stood at the back of the line.

So, when they reached the players’ tunnel and the referee was doing a headcount, he looked at the Mostar Zrinjski line and asked, "Where’s the other one? You’re one short!"

"Right here!"

Suk leaned out to the side so the referee could see him.

The referee glanced at Suk, who stood under 160 cm, did a double take, and then nodded to show he’d seen him.

Meanwhile, the Banja Luka Warriors players on the other side were also staring at Suk.

The sight of this short player in a number 99 Mostar Zrinjski jersey genuinely surprised and intrigued them.

"He must be the number 99 our coach mentioned, right?"

Luka Ojic said to their center-forward, Vranesic.

Vranesic eyed Suk with curiosity. "He doesn’t look very intimidating, does he?"

"Maybe he’s deceptively good," Luka Ojic continued. "But the Head Coach said the kid is good at making forward runs, has great Speed, and his passing isn’t half bad either."

Vranesic looked unconvinced. "A center-forward’s job is to score goals, not pass the ball!"

With that, he shouted to the center-back ahead of him, "Zakavic, their center-forward is 150 centimeters tall! Watch out for him."

This sent the Banja Luka Warriors players into a roar of laughter.

A 150-centimeter-tall center-forward was just too ridiculous.

"I’m 156 centimeters!"

Suk suddenly interjected.

Vranesic blinked, seeing Suk staring right at him.

"Are you talking to me?"

"That’s right," Suk said seriously. "It’s 156 centimeters. And another thing..."

Suk grinned, baring a set of pearly white teeth.

"I’m going to tear you guys apart!"

PFFT!

Kish, at the front of the line, couldn’t help but snort with laughter. He immediately yelled, "Alright, lads, you heard our center-forward!"

"Loud and clear!" Mashovich said, goading Vranesic. "A guy who couldn’t win a single header against me all game... I don’t know where he gets his confidence!"

Vranesic’s expression immediately darkened.

Kish raised his arm and bellowed, "Tear them apart!"

"TEAR THEM APART!"

The team roared in unison.

Both teams began to walk out onto the pitch. The boos from the stands were relentless, wave after wave, to the point where it was impossible to tell if they were for the away team or the home team.

In any case, the stadium was filled with nothing but boos; there wasn’t a single cheer to be heard.

Watching the foul-mouthed fans all around, Suk, for some reason, started to feel a little sorry for the Banja Luka Warriors players.

These guys were definitely starved for affection; after all, even their own fans couldn’t stand them.

The two teams took to their respective halves of the pitch, ready for the match to begin.

Banja Luka Warriors had the kickoff.

Suk took a deep breath, steeling himself and preparing to charge at a moment’s notice.

TWEET!

The moment the whistle blew for the Banja Luka Warriors’ kickoff, Suk shot forward like a small cheetah.

Meanwhile, the Banja Luka Warriors players passed the Ball back and forth among themselves.

Banja Luka Warriors’ center-back, Zakavic, had just brought the Ball under control when Suk was already right in front of him.

’So fast!’

Zakavic immediately dragged the Ball back and turned, but Suk lunged forward, stretching out a leg to try and poke it away.

Suk felt the tip of his boot graze the Ball, but he couldn’t make the Interception.

’So close!’

Suk shook his head and stopped his run, instead taking up a position to pressure the defensive line.

But, amusingly, the Banja Luka Warriors fans in the stands were not impressed.

"Stop dawdling! Can’t you just make a decisive pass!"

"One touch! Are you just waiting for them to take the ball off you?"

"Zakavic is just a clumsy bear!"

Suk gave Zakavic a strange look. It seemed like these fans really hated him.

Zakavic’s face was grim as he tried to suppress his anger.

The match had just begun, so the Banja Luka Warriors weren’t rushing, content to pass the ball around their back line while looking for an opportunity to move forward.

As for Mostar Zrinjski, they settled into their defensive formation and were in no hurry to press either.

The game immediately entered a feeling-out phase.

Suk continued to hover near the defensive line, looking for an opening and constantly sizing up Zakavic.

’Hmm! How should I put this?’

’This center-back seems to have his hands full.’

The Ball was passed back to Zakavic’s feet. He gently controlled it with the inside of his foot, immediately feinted a pass to the left to draw Suk in, then switched play to the other side.

It was actually a very smooth, impressive piece of skill, but you wouldn’t know it from the reaction of the Banja Luka Warriors fans.

"Asshole! What are you doing showing off with feints!"

"You’re a center-back! Move the ball quickly!"

"Fuck your fancy feints! If you can’t play, then get off the pitch and let me!"

The fans in the stands kept up their barrage of insults, and Zakavic’s expression grew darker and darker.

Another aerial duel came his way. Zakavic quickly got into position and cleared the danger.

The fans: "What an ugly play!"

Zakavic finally snapped.

After clearing the ball, he turned to the stands, flipped his middle finger, and roared, "Shut up! You disgusting bastards, your mouths are full of fucking dog shit!"

Instantly, the Banja Luka Warriors fans got even louder.

Suk stared, dumbfounded, at Zakavic’s outrageous move.

He had to mark me while simultaneously getting into a shouting match with his own fans.

Kick the ball, yell at the stands. The rhythm was almost too perfect!