August brought a scorching day to Mostar.
In the sweltering heat, even the pigeons at both ends of the Old Bridge were lazily hiding in the shade, no longer longing for the sky or spreading their wings to fly.
In Mostar, pigeons coexist peacefully with the residents and are not afraid of people at all.
They even fly into people's homes to perform a little flight show, then demand food.
Two pigeons were perched on the roof of the Oripe house.
Suke sat on a stone stool nearby, looking up at the pigeons. Normally, he would have driven them away without hesitation.
Their droppings really stink!
But pigeons are also seen as symbols of good luck, just like the Van Stajak he had been longing for day and night.
"It's been three weeks already!"
Suke drooped his head.
This was taking way too long.
Had he misunderstood something?
Feeling a little annoyed, Suke shook his head and was about to go back inside to grab his gear and practice with the ball.
At that moment, the sound of car tires screeching against the road came from the front gate.
A dark red Volkswagen Santana stopped outside. The paint was glossy and clean—an uncommon luxury in the small town of Mostar.
As Suke looked on curiously, the Santana pulled up right in front of the Oripe house. Two men got out.
Suke recognized only one of them—it was Van Stoyack, who stepped out from the driver's seat.
Suke's eyes lit up; he was absolutely thrilled.
He ran over to open the door.
"Coach!"
He opened the door with a cheerful smile.
Van Stoyack smiled and nodded at him.
The other man, wearing suit trousers and a white short-sleeved shirt, looked rather stiff. He sized up Suke without saying a word.
"Please, come in."
Suke smiled and opened the door wider.
But Van Stoyack waved his hand and said, "Pack your things. Where's your guardian?"
"Oripe is at school. I'll pack right away!" Suk replied excitedly, then dashed inside to get his things.
The man in the white shirt turned and said, "This is the other 'gem' you mentioned?"
Van Stoyack smiled. "He'll surprise you."
The man looked skeptical. Though he didn't work directly in football, he had seen plenty of players in his job at the club. Suk seemed far too unconventional.
Suke returned quickly, carrying just one backpack.
"I'm ready. Let's go!"
Van Stoyack tilted his head. "Just one backpack?"
Suke nodded. "Just one."
"All right, get in the car."
Van Stoyack patted the roof of the Santana. Suke locked the door and got into the back seat.
He was visibly excited—after all, he was about to join Zrinjski Mostar, a team competing in the Premier League.
This meant he was on the right path.
The roads in Mostar, outside the main thoroughfares, weren't great. The car bumped along until they reached a school on the eastern side of the town.
After a brief exchange with the guard, Oripe came out, wearing a blue tracksuit.
Oripe had a big smile on his face and shook hands warmly with Van Stoyack.
Van Stoyack then pointed to the other man. "This is Varimchi. He'll handle today's signing."
Varimchi handed over a document. "Here's the contract. We're offering Suk a five-year deal."
Oripe nodded but didn't take the contract. "What's the weekly salary?"
"Since Suke is just joining, his weekly salary is at the lowest tier—500 marks. Of course, if he performs well, there's plenty of room for raises."
Varimchi assumed Oripe might think it was too little, but to his surprise, Oripe nodded right away. "No problem."
He turned to Suke. "What about you?"
"No problem," Suke echoed.
500 marks was pretty good. It meant Suke no longer had to work side jobs and could focus entirely on training and matches.
To Suke, Zrinjski Mostar was just a stepping stone. There was no need to worry too much about money.
Frankly, Zrinjski Mostar was a tiny club in the context of European football. How much could they really offer?
The focus should be on playing well, leveling up, and gaining experience!
The signing process was smooth and took less than an hour. Van Stajak was pleased with how efficiently everything went.
Time was tight—he couldn't afford to waste it.
"Not saying goodbye?" Van Stoyack asked, ready to head back.
"We're in the same town—no need for goodbyes," Suke replied with a wave.
Then he turned to Oripe and said, "You guys are on your own this season. If you get relegated, so be it—don't stress."
"Shut your jinxing mouth," Oripe shot back.
Suke chuckled and waved again. "I'm off!"
"Go on, then."
Oripe watched Suke and the others drive off, a trail of dust rising behind them as they disappeared into the distance.
He looked up at the blue sky.
A fledgling must one day take flight—it belongs up there.
Zrinjski Mostar was located halfway up a mountain on the south side of town. There were two routes to the training base.
Besides the relatively flat main road, there was a winding mountain path.
Since they were in a car, they took the main road, though the mountain path was shorter.
Van Stoyack, driving, said, "There's a file next to you with some tactical information. Take a look—training starts tomorrow."
Van Stoyack was all about efficiency, so Suke wasted no time and immediately opened the file.
It outlined a standard "total football" tactic—center forward dropping back to organize, feeding the flanks, with fullbacks overlapping to attack.
Suke needed to figure out his role and passing strategy within this complex system.
Modern tactics focused on three-line offense—far from the five-line style Guardiola would later popularize, exploiting the half-spaces with sophistication.
The offense mainly consisted of distributing the ball to wingers, overlapping fullbacks, and coordinated runs with attacking midfielders.
Suke quickly grasped the concepts.
He had always had a sharp instinct for tactics. Due to physical reasons, he had already been studying tactics during his position change.
"Can I get a file on our starting lineup?" Suk asked.
Van Stoyack glanced at him through the rearview mirror and nodded. "No problem."
No coach would refuse a player eager to integrate into the team.
Every coach kept detailed player files, after all.
Soon, the car started climbing the mountain.
When they reached a flat section halfway up, they had a clear view of Mostar below.
The Neretva River shimmered in the sunlight, and the towns on either side looked peaceful and serene.
At a fork in the road, one path continued uphill, while the other led to Zrinjski Mostar.
After another two minutes, a rusty metal archway came into view, the paint mostly faded but still showing the Zrinjski Mostar crest and name.
The car finally stopped in front of a two-story building.
"We're here."
Van Stoyack led Suke into the dormitory building.
Suke was visibly excited, skipping along.
Upstairs, Van Stoyack pointed to the first dorm on the left. "Luka lives here."
"I'll stay here too," Suke replied without hesitation.
Van Stoyack smiled and nodded. "Someone will bring your training and match kits soon."
Suke nodded and added, "And player profiles."
Van Stoyack nodded again, then left.
Suke pushed open the door.
A gentle breeze greeted him.
The dorm was clean, surprisingly free of any sweaty odors despite being a boy's room.
There were three bunk beds. Two by the window had bedding, while the last was used as a clothes rack.
A red-spotted jersey with a white base hung there—Zrinjski Mostar's home kit. Number 8: the central midfielder's number. The name on the back: Modric!
As Suke looked around, a delighted voice called out.
"Sukee, you're here!"
Suk turned around to see Modric holding a basin with a rag in it.
"What are you doing?" Suke asked.
"Cleaning the dorm—getting it ready for my new roommate!" Modric said, smiling.
He pointed to the right-hand bed by the window. "The bedding came two days ago. I washed it and just laid it out today."
Suke walked over and sniffed—still carried the fresh scent of soap. He turned and gave a thumbs-up.
"Luka, you're my brother for life."
Modric scratched his head shyly.
Suke took the basin and rag from him. "What else needs cleaning? I'll help!"
"Just the posters up there."
Suke noticed the wall was covered in football posters.
"You like Ronaldo?"
Modric nodded. "He's a phenomenon—unstoppable."
Suke nodded too. At that time, R9 was indeed unbeatable.
"Who do you like?" Modric asked curiously.
Suke pointed at Ronaldo. "Him too."
Modric beamed. "See! We're always in sync!"