Chapter 43 - 41: Zakavic’s Defenses Are Broken

Chapter 43: Chapter 41: Zakavic’s Defenses Are Broken

Rage was slowly starting to consume Zakavic.

His face was even starting to flush a deep red.

Suk’s constant provocations, the fans’ jeers, and the fact that they had just conceded a goal.

All these factors were grating on his nerves.

A dangerous glint began to form in his eyes.

Suk and his teammates jogged back to their own half, overjoyed. Scoring in the first half had left them ecstatic.

Best of all, Suk had an assist to his name.

That was an assist in two consecutive matches. Even without a goal, it was an excellent performance.

Besides, Suk’s main job was to be a playmaker.

Despite playing center forward, he wasn’t a typical goal scorer. Instead, he supported the play by drifting wide and creating chances for his teammates.

That was why the results of the match and his assists were what mattered most.

You could tell just how good Suk’s performance was by the look on Head Coach Van Stiake’s face.

He was rubbing his hands together, unable to wipe the smile off his face.

Though Suk could be stubborn and a bit thick-headed at times, his abilities were a massive boost to the team when he was focused.

This goal was a perfect example: dropping deep, linking up play, Dribbling past his man, and delivering a lethal low cross in front of the goal.

Suk had, by all accounts, perfectly developed the withdrawn center forward role.

The attack was entirely orchestrated by Suk. Modric had simply carried the Ball up from the back and laid it off to him.

The goal itself was then finished by the front-three trident.

That’s right!

Suk, Billiar, and Boamei were really starting to feel like a proper trident.

"Hey! Suk, we should keep this up!"

After getting a taste of success, Billiar had completely forgotten about the team’s old leader on the bench.

He gestured to Suk. "We can make crisscrossing runs. I can set you up, and you can slip the ball through to me when you need to. My Speed isn’t on your level, but I’m definitely faster than their fullback."

"No problem!" Suk said, patting his chest. "I’ll feed you one in a bit!"

Billiar beamed.

For a professional player, there was nothing better than a teammate setting you up with a perfect pass.

This scene did not go unnoticed by vice-captain Oliveira on the bench. His eyes narrowed, and he radiated a cold, unapproachable aura.

He felt as if he was being isolated by the team.

That’s right.

He used to be the one isolating others, but now, with Van Stiake at the helm, he was the one left all alone.

And with Suk and Modric siding with Kosopech, the balance of power in the locker room was gradually shifting to Kosopech as well.

He was starting to regret ignoring Suk before.

But more than regret, he felt resentment.

’Why the hell won’t those two pass to me?’

「Back on the field, the match restarted.」

After scoring a goal, Mostar Zrinjski’s attack became even more fluid.

Suk’s performance was particularly noteworthy. His constant dropping deep and surging forward pulled the opposition’s backline out of position.

It would have been manageable if it were just Suk, but now the two wingers were linking up with him as well.

Sometimes, they attacked the defensive line with quick, fluid passing and movement.

Other times, they’d spread out.

Suk would drop deep, and the two wingers would push forward.

After receiving the ball, Suk would immediately slip it into the open space.

Suk’s through balls were a real headache for the defense. Because he was a withdrawn forward, there was only a thin defensive line separating him from the wingers, creating massive gaps.

Combined with the high speed of Mostar Zrinjski’s two wingers, the Banja Luka Warriors’ backline was like a candle in the wind—flickering, and in danger of being snuffed out at any moment.

In the 34th minute, Suk once again dropped deep to receive the ball.

"Get on him, you idiot!"

A fan roared.

Veins pulsed on Zakavic’s forehead, but he swallowed his anger and followed.

The moment Suk received the ball, he felt the pressure from behind.

He controlled it, and with his back to the defender, began to feint from side to side.

Suk was far more agile than Zakavic, and Zakavic struggled to keep up with each movement.

But more importantly, seeing this guy showboating right in front of him made a nameless fury surge within Zakavic.

"Fuck off!"

Zakavic lunged forward, wedged his leg between Suk’s, and drove his body down, ramming his knee into Suk’s lower back.

Suk, who was in the middle of a sharp turn, was caught completely off guard and sent tumbling forward.

Suk cried out, clutching his lower back as a jolt of pain shot through it.

FWEEEEET!

The referee’s sharp whistle blew.

A yellow card was shown to Zakavic.

Zakavic paid the price for his hot-headed shove.

Suk, still clutching his back, turned to look at him.

Zakavic glared at Suk, his eyes wide with fury. The guy had clearly lost his cool.

"Idiot! Conceding a card on defense, you hopeless moron!"

Enraged, Zakavic roared at the stands, "You bastard! Get down here! You bastard!"

Zakavic charged directly towards the stands, looking as if he was about to drag that fan down.

The foul-mouthed fan, who had been spewing insults just moments before, immediately lost his nerve.

Once Zakavic had been restrained by the referee and led away, the fan started running his mouth again. "Idiot Zakavic, you’re nothing but a—AHH!!!!!!"

THWACK!

The Ball smashed violently into the fan’s right cheek, sending him staggering backward.

When the dazed fan got back to his feet, his right cheek was already swelling up, and blood was pouring from his nose.

The sudden turn of events stunned everyone.

Even Zakavic looked astonished.

At this moment, Modric slowly raised his hand.

"Sorry! I miskicked!"

The referee gave Modric a long, hard look, then waved his hand. "Play on!"

Billiar stared at Modric, astonished. ’This guy has some serious nerve.’

The fan was going ballistic, trying to climb over the barrier by the pitch, but security guards were holding him down.

"Aren’t you afraid of a fan riot?"

Billiar was still shaken.

Modric didn’t answer.

Just then, Suk walked over, one hand on his lower back, and held out his palm.

"Nice shot!"

A smile touched Modric’s lips as he slapped Suk’s hand. SLAP.

Billiar was speechless.

After this interlude, the players on both sides calmed down a bit.

Zakavic in particular, who had been on the verge of boiling over, had now cooled down.

The match continued until halftime.

When the whistle blew, Zakavic walked over to Suk. "Sorry! Is your back okay?"

Suk waved it off with a smile. "I’m young, I recover fast!"

Zakavic couldn’t help but laugh.

Suk glanced at the stands. "How about a transfer? They don’t respect you at all."

Zakavic shrugged. "If I get the chance."

Clearly, the match had left him disheartened.

During the halftime break, Head Coach Van Stiake praised the team’s overall performance.

This doubled the players’ confidence.

The backline had been particularly outstanding today. Mashovich completely dominated in the air, preventing the opposition’s center forward from getting a single clean header on goal.

In the second half, there were no tactical changes, but Van Stiake still emphasized the importance of running.

"How’s your back?"

Suk twisted his waist and grinned. "No problem. I’m young, I heal fast."

Van Stiake smiled. Suk’s stamina had always been very good, even better than Modric’s.

Those two were the team’s tireless runners, and also its greatest threats.

After some simple instructions, Suk and the others began to rest, waiting for the second half to begin.

...

"Banja Luka Warriors are having a terrible time on the attack. They can’t seem to adapt to Mostar Zrinjski’s relentless, full-field press. They’ve even been losing the ball in their own half, and Mostar Zrinjski almost managed to extend their lead."

"We’re now in the 80th minute of the match..."

Commentator Basodachi watched Suk and Modric still sprinting across the pitch and sighed wistfully, "Ah, to be young!"

Throughout the whole match, no one could say for sure exactly how far Suk and Modric had run.

But they were definitely the two who had run the most on the entire pitch.

Especially Suk. He had made several back-to-back sprints, yet the guy was still as lively as ever.

Zakavic couldn’t keep up with Suk anymore. Suk had completely run him ragged.

Now, just keeping up on defense was a struggle for him.

He couldn’t help but wonder, ’How can this guy run so much!’

’Am I really getting old?’

’I’m only 25!’

While Zakavic was stewing in his frustration, Suk and Modric both charged toward the sideline and won the Ball back together.

Modric took possession and sprinted forward, while Suk made a diagonal run.

Watching the two of them bear down on him from both sides, Zakavic froze.

’Who do I follow?’

The next second, after exchanging a look with his center-back partner, he immediately rushed towards Suk.

Suk was sprinting with his head down. Spotting Zakavic beside him, he leaned in and kicked into a higher gear.

"So fast!"

Watching Suk blur past him, Zakavic reached out to grab him but came up empty.

At the same time, the Ball was played across from the other side, landing right in Suk’s path.

"Offside!"

Zakavic immediately raised his hand.

But the referee pointed forward, signaling to play on.

Suk sprinted onto the Ball, and as he neared the goal, he took a small touch to set himself and smashed his right foot through it.

The angle and quality of the shot were excellent—one of the few truly high-quality shots Suk was capable of.

But... that damn keeper!

The opposing keeper had already dived to his right, managing to block the Ball with his arm.

The Ball rebounded right back to Suk.

"Don’t even think about shooting!"

Zakavic rushed over, sliding in to block the shot.

Suk had no room for a shot.

In a split second, Suk trapped the Ball and backheeled it.

The Ball rolled sideways from behind his standing leg.

The pass wasn’t fast, but it was lethal.

At that exact moment, Modric arrived in the open space and delicately chipped the ball with the tip of his boot.

The Ball sailed over the defender and the keeper, dropping into the back of the net.

Mostar Zrinjski 2:0 Banja Luka Warriors.

The moment the ball went in, Suk and Modric threw their arms around each other in celebration.

Meanwhile, the Banja Luka Warriors players hung their heads in despair.

It was over.