!
Suker's enthusiasm for training was sky-high, and even the other players were slightly infected by it.
First were Modrić and Štelko, Suker's two little shadows — these three were always together.
So when Suker made changes, these two were the most affected.
Modrić had his own training plan, but seeing Suker go all out stirred a sense of urgency in him, and he quickly joined Suker's training group.
Štelko was in the same situation. If both rising stars were putting in that kind of effort, how could he — a substitute — justify slacking off?
The word "involution" didn't exist yet.
But judging by Suker's effort, many starting players felt a subtle sense of pressure, and the overall training enthusiasm increased significantly.
The happiest person when players train hard is undoubtedly the head coach.
Recently, when Van Stee and the other coaching staff arrived at the stadium, the players had already finished warming up and were ready to begin the morning session. This saved valuable training time and improved overall efficiency.
Van Stee was very pleased with this change.
No championship team is born by accident.
A title is the result of many factors: hard work, excellent performances — and a touch of luck.
But the one thing every champion team needs is spirit — morale.
"Awesome, Captain!"
Kosopeć's diving header smashed into Kiš's goal.
Even Suker shouted in praise from afar.
Every time he saw Kosopeć leap into the air and crash the ball down over everyone's heads, Suker felt a bit envious.
He'd never experienced the thrill of crushing a header like that — his petite frame made it impossible.
But Suker had his own way of playing.
When Modrić passed the ball to him, Suker turned sideways and acted as if he were about to run — but gently tapped the ball with his toe instead.
At the same time, Modrić sprinted past Suker. Suker lifted his right foot, swung it behind, and slammed the ball into the air with his heel.
"Wow!!!"
Cheers erupted around the stadium.
And Modrić didn't waste the opportunity — he smashed the ball into the goal.
Clap clap clap clap clap!
All four coaches on the sideline applauded.
They were clapping not just for the goal, but for Suker's brilliant backheel pass.
"His passing is getting more and more imaginative," assistant coach Van Dill said with admiration.
It had only been three weeks since Suker joined Mostar Zrinjski, but his progress was constant and impressive.
This kid was like a treasure chest that never stopped giving.
Of course, part of the reason for his improvement was his growing chemistry with the team.
Just like this time — when Modrić passed the ball to him, Suker didn't rush it. He waited a moment.
He was waiting for winger Biljar to pull back and start his run.
The moment Biljar moved, Suker calmly slipped the ball between the center-back and full-back and then jogged slowly toward the penalty area.
By the time Biljar reached the baseline, the opposing defense was in disarray.
Boahimé was in front, Suker in the middle, and Modrić arriving late at the back post.
Three options. Three gaps. All opened up.
The rest was simple.
Biljar passed the ball back in a triangle, and Suker tapped it easily into the goal.
"Great!"
Suker jumped and ran toward Biljar.
Biljar pointed back at Suker from afar, his face lit up with joy.
Their relationship had warmed quickly — maybe because of their growing chemistry on the field, or maybe because of how often Suker fed him the ball.
Either way, Biljar was enjoying himself.
Before, he was always the supporting cast — running into space to open shooting lanes for Kosopeć.
Now that Suker was the center, he was the main attacker.
Three games. Two goals. One assist.
Biljar had already hit the KPI he failed to reach over seven or eight games last season. He was loving it.
"You could've passed it back to me just now," Biljar said excitedly. "We could've confused the defense even more."
"Too slow!" Suker waved him off.
"Just try it!" Biljar threw an arm over Suker's shoulder and pinched his chubby cheek with a laugh.
"Ewwwwww!" Suker pushed him away, clearly annoyed.
Biljar only laughed harder and pulled Suker into a hug, turning the pinch into a squish, completely messing up his face.
Suker finally escaped his clutches, rubbing his face with a scowl.
He admitted his skin was soft — tanned, but smooth and elastic.
But being pinched in the face by a bunch of guys was just not okay.
Biljar kept teasing Suker, laughing happily.
Until Oliveira showed up.
"Happy, are you?"
Oliveira looked straight at Biljar.
Biljar's smile froze. He coughed and replied, "I scored a goal — can't I be happy about that?"
Oliveira was silent for a moment, then said, "Neum Port tonight? My treat."
In the past, Biljar would've accepted without hesitation.
But this time, he paused.
"Captain, I don't think I've been in great form lately. I need to rest. These recent games have been intense," Biljar smiled. "You understand."
Understand my ass, Oliveira thought.
His expression darkened.
He hated being rejected.
But more than that, he hated that Biljar — once close to him — was slowly drifting away.
Oliveira gave him a deep look. "Hope you play well."
Biljar smiled awkwardly.
Only after Oliveira left did he breathe a long sigh.
He shook off the awkwardness and called out, "Suker! Let me pinch your face again!"
A furious voice rang out.
"Get lost! Far, far away!"
Hahahahaha~~~~
Biljar laughed, clearly enjoying himself.
By 4 p.m., training was over.
The players began trickling out of the locker room.
"This training load's gotten ridiculous," Mašović muttered, squinting at Suker. "All because of some brat."
Suker rolled his eyes. "You're all just lazy. I'm doing this to raise your standards."
Hagić chuckled. "Still, it feels good. Like we're really accomplishing something."
Everyone smiled.
Hard work, two wins in a row — their confidence was rising fast. Even training felt energizing.
Bang!
Oliveira slammed his locker shut.
The room fell silent. Everyone looked at him.
He slung a gym bag over one shoulder and walked out of the room alone.
Once he was gone, the atmosphere warmed again.
"Oliveira's had it rough lately," Mašović commented. "He was on the bench last game, and again during the scrimmage."
Hagić added, "Boahimé's just been better — more active, more of a team player."
"Those who do good win support, those who don't get left behind," Suker muttered. "He's just reaping what he sowed."
Oliveira had never directly messed with Suker, but Suker couldn't stand him.
A captain who partied at Neum Port before matchday? That wasn't someone Suker could respect.
At first, Suker held back — new kid and all.
But now? With his rising status and stronger bonds with teammates, he didn't care who the captain was.
He ignored him outright.
Just then, the locker room door opened again.
Equipment manager Pakić stepped in. "Suker, here's the key."
"Coming!"
Suker ran over happily.
Pakić handed him a spare key. "Take good care of this. You'll be responsible if it's lost."
"No problem!"
Suker beamed.
Since he trained early and stayed late every day, he'd been bothering Pakić to unlock the doors. So he finally asked for a spare — and to his surprise, Pakić had agreed.
Pakić rubbed Suker's round head and said, "Train hard, but don't overdo it. Don't get hurt."
Suker nodded and smiled sweetly. "Thanks, Grandpa Pakić."
The old man grinned, his wrinkles like blooming chrysanthemums.
He liked Suker — a polite, hardworking kid.
After Pakić left, Suker started putting his gear back on.
Everyone stared at him.
"You're still training?"
Without looking up, Suker replied, "Just another half hour. You guys go on ahead."
Then he stood and walked out of the locker room.
Kosopeć watched him go and sighed. "So driven!"
He couldn't train another minute himself.
Pa da! Pa da! Pa da!
Lockers slammed shut.
Kosopeć looked up and saw players who were about to leave start changing back into their kits.
Modrić. Biljar. Kamenar. Štelko. Barton. Boahimé.
One by one, they followed Suker out of the room.
Watching the silhouettes of those young men striding away, Kosopeć felt a twinge of envy.
"Youth… so good."