Chapter 63 - 61: Goal! Dream

Chapter 63: Chapter 61: Goal! Dream

Suk and Modric finished their interview and headed for the dorm.

"He must think we’re just big talkers!"

Suk said with a laugh.

Modric replied, "He can’t understand our way of thinking."

Suk nodded. "We don’t need everyone to understand us. When we achieve our goals, they’ll understand."

"Yeah!"

Modric nodded emphatically.

After a pause, he suddenly turned to look at Suk. "That question from before... why didn’t you push back?"

"What question?"

"The one about you having too few goals for a center-forward!" Modric frowned. "They only see the goal count. They don’t see your assists or your overall performance on the pitch. Your role is about more than just scoring."

Watching Modric get indignant on his behalf, Suk chuckled. "Because I agree with him."

Huh?

Modric was stunned. "You also think goals are the ultimate measure of a player?"

"The ultimate measure of a center-forward, to be precise," Suk said calmly. "What’s the point of a center-forward who can’t score goals?"

"But you can pass, you can get assists, you can introduce so many tactical variations for the team. That’s your value."

"But I can’t score!" After saying this, Suk let out a slow sigh. "You’re a midfielder, so you wouldn’t understand. A center-forward’s pride is in scoring goals."

"The only reason I assist, pass, and run off the ball is because I have no other choice. I don’t have a physique like Kosopech. If I want to survive as a professional, I have to find another path."

"I’m not a magnanimous person. I’m not generous enough to just hand over the chance to score to someone else. If I could, I would never pass. I’d rather shoot and miss than pass."

"I want to score. I crave goals more than anyone, but..."

Suk gestured at his own height.

"As you can see, I just don’t have the physical attributes. Besides, when Van Stiake brought me here, it wasn’t for me to score goals!"

"Believe it or not, if I start taking wild shots, Van Stiake will have me on the bench in a heartbeat. He likes me right now because I’m obedient. He tells me to do something, I do it. He tells me to pass, I pass. He tells me to track back, I track back. He tells me to draw out defenders, I draw out defenders."

"I have to be obedient because I want to stay a professional. Until I get taller, stronger, and have enough ability to say ’no,’ I must use every means at my disposal to stay in this league!"

"I didn’t answer the question because I agree with him."

Suk said, "A center-forward who can’t score is useless!"

Modric stared blankly at Suk.

As far as he knew, Suk was always cheerful, enthusiastic, and full of life. He was relentlessly optimistic, as if nothing could ever bring him down.

But now, he was seeing a different Suk.

A Suk with a fierce obsession for goals.

A Suk filled with deep-seated resentment about not being able to score.

Although he still didn’t agree with Suk’s perspective...

...he knew that everyone has their own way of understanding the game of football.

Therefore, he disagreed, but he respected it.

After they got back to their dorm, Suk was back to his usual optimistic and cheerful self.

This time, however, Modric felt he understood his good friend on a deeper level.

Beneath the seemingly sunny and open facade, Suk was wrestling with his own frustrations.

Then again, who wasn’t?

...

The weather grew colder, the chill especially biting here deep in the mountains.

At two in the afternoon, the sun was at its peak, providing a little warmth.

Basstic stood in the press box of Jirinsky Stadium with his camera, looking around. He was astonished to find the stadium was packed to the rafters.

With Mostar Zrinjski securing two consecutive away victories and becoming the front-runner for the Bosnia and Herzegovina Super League title, the entire town’s enthusiasm had been set ablaze.

After all, in a town with such a monotonous daily life, even the smallest thing could be considered news.

Never mind the fact that their local football club was currently leading the entire Bosnia and Herzegovina Super League.

This match was Mostar Zrinjski’s home game against Posushye Football Team, who were ranked ninth in the league. Their opponents weren’t particularly strong, so the Mostar Zrinjski fans were naturally hoping to witness a resounding victory on their home turf.

Although the pre-match starting lineup included some rotation, Suk and Modric, the "Mostar Twins," were still slated as key starters.

As the two most important players on the team, their presence showed Van Stiake was determined to secure three points at home.

Jirinsky Stadium was run-down, but the fans were incomparably passionate.

There were far more fans than usual today, around 5,000 of them.

The single-sided seating stand was crammed full, and the three standing terraces were packed with people several layers deep.

Fans were even climbing on the pitch-side barriers, squeezed one against the other, causing the entire fence to emit a teeth-grinding CREAK under the overwhelming weight.

There were even people sitting on the roof of the grandstand.

’The turnout for Mostar Zrinjski is insane!’

Basstic couldn’t help but marvel.

A scene like this would be understandable in Sarajevo, the capital and a major city.

But Mostar was a small town with a population of just over 100,000. To have 5,000 people gathered here, a full one-twentieth of the town’s populace, showed just how popular the team had become.

The stadium announcer was calling out the names of the home team’s players as they took the field.

When Modric’s name was announced, the crowd erupted in a deafening roar, like a tsunami crashing ashore.

Who could fail to love the Croatian genius?

Soon after, another wave of cheers followed.

Suk entered with his hands held high, frantically waving and yelling to all four sides of the stadium as he stepped onto the pitch. This caused the cheers to surge in volume, making the ground itself seem to tremble for a moment.

Suk might be short, but his presence was immense.

The Posu?je players, for their part, didn’t dare underestimate Suk because of his height.

After all, this was the guy whose performance had helped his team knock out three consecutive Bosnia and Herzegovina Super League opponents.

...

"...Suk passes the ball to Kosopech... Kosopech returns the pass! It’s a one-two, and Suk has broken through! SUK!!!"

At that moment, the incessant roar from the stands of Jirinsky Stadium suddenly died.

It was as if all that built-up passion had been compressed to a breaking point.

Suk collected the lay-off from Kosopech, accelerated, and dribbled the ball into the penalty area.

The moment the opposing keeper charged out to close him down, Suk turned his body and pushed the ball with the inside of his foot.

The ball traced a gentle curve, evading the keeper’s desperate dive and nestling into the far corner.

"SUK!!! GOAL!!!!"

"In the 9th minute, Suk opens the scoring for Mostar Zrinjski! Mostar Zrinjski takes a 1-0 lead over Posu?je!"

And at that very instant, the long-suppressed passion detonated.

The more than 5,000 Mostar Zrinjski fans in the stadium screamed and cheered wildly, their jumping creating a tremor that sent the entire stadium into a state of pandemonium.

After scoring, Suk ran over to the fan stands. He raised his hands high, eyes wide, and roared at the crowd. His voice cracked with the sheer force of it, but he paid it no mind.

The fans before him roared back with even greater enthusiasm.

Watching Suk’s celebration, Modric finally started to understand a little.

The infectious energy of scoring a goal was truly something powerful.

In the press box, Basstic watched Suk and Modric on the pitch.

His perspective was shifting.

Some things couldn’t be conveyed through words alone. They had to be seen and felt firsthand to be understood.

A peculiar feeling washed over Basstic.

He watched Suk make one explosive forward run after another, and he watched Modric command the midfield with impeccable composure.

He watched them combine to put the ball in the back of the net.

A different kind of understanding began to form in his mind.

’What is a dream?’

’What is a goal?’

’For him, a "dream" was an idealized, long-term concept, something full of deep meaning.’

’It was a fantasy, hidden in the depths of his heart. And unlike a goal, a fantasy might never be more than that.’

’The Champions League, the FIFA World Cup—they were all too far away for him.’

’But for Suk and Modric, perhaps these weren’t fantasies at all. Perhaps they were truly attainable goals.’

Watching the two teenagers pour sweat and heart onto the pitch, running tirelessly and performing brilliantly...

In that moment, he finally grasped the difference.

’Yes!’

’What is a dream for me is a goal for them!’