Friday's training match.
"Beautiful!!"
Suke executed a fake-out to dodge his defender and received Modrić's pass to the opposite side with fluidity and grace.
Suke couldn't help but marvel at how smooth it felt.
Barton, having been beaten, immediately turned to recover.
But Suke flipped the ball with the outside of his foot—right through Barton's legs.
Humiliated by a nutmeg, Barton blushed with embarrassment and rushed in again, even more aggressively.
Suke caught up with the ball, stopped it, and just as Barton lunged again, he pulled it back through Barton's legs a second time and spun away.
The double nutmeg made the surrounding teammates erupt with cheers and whoops as they rushed over and patted Suk's back wildly.
In football, this is a ritual of admiration.
Suke laughed joyfully.
Of course, Barton wasn't happy—he had just been nutmegged twice.
"You good?" Suke extended his hand—finally getting to say that line himself.
Barton looked at him and said, "You're definitely holding a grudge."
Suke chuckled sheepishly.
He did feel a bit of payback satisfaction. After being knocked around by Barton all week, he'd finally flipped the script.
He pulled Barton up, and the training match continued.
The overall atmosphere remained relaxed. After Suke got the better of Barton, the first team's attack became much smoother.
On the sideline, head coach Van Stoyak watched the scene with a smile.
"He can finally receive passes properly," said assistant coach Vandir with a grin.
For a whole week, Suke had been getting knocked around and struggling to sync with Modrić's passes. But through continuous adjustments and practice, they'd finally found a rhythm. It was a very positive sign.
For the coaching staff, this was the kind of development they loved to see—players not only being coached but actively solving problems on their own.
The result was a growing sense of unity and momentum within the Zrinjski Mostar team.
It might've been just an illusion, but Suke had only been with the team for two weeks, and the transformation was already visible.
What was once a rather lifeless squad was now showing real signs of vitality.
Players were smiling more during training, and communication was flowing better on the pitch.
Most importantly, Modrić was no longer so closed off—he was starting to open up and integrate with the team.
All of it seemed to signal a promising beginning.
"Training's over for today. Everyone get ready—we're taking the night train to Banja Luka!"
It was round five of the 2002/2003 Bosnian Premier League. Zrinjski Mostar's opponent: FK Borac Banja Luka.(Borac meaning "Fighter")
From the moment that name was mentioned, the mood shifted dramatically.
Banja Luka is a city in Bosnia and Herzegovina, and part of the Serbia Republic autonomous region.
Historically, Serbs and Croats had once been considered brotherly nations, but after the Yugoslav Wars, they became bitter enemies. The ethnic hatred between them ran deep.
This match was about more than football—it was an ethnic showdown.
The Banja Luka Warriors are a Serbian-majority team.
Zrinjski Mostar, in contrast, is predominantly Croatian.
That's why matches between these two clubs were dubbed "The Ethnic Derby," also known as "The Bloody Derby."
Coach Van Stoyak announced the 18-man squad. Suke made the cut and would travel with the team.
With a light backpack, Suke boarded the bus to the train station with Modrić and the others.
They caught the 6 PM train to Banja Luka.
The train crawled along the tracks—it was one of those classic green trains, known for being slow.
Forget high-speed trains in Bosnia. Even global giants didn't have many of those at the time.
Aside from the Zrinjski Mostar players, the carriage was empty.
Suke found an open seat and laid down, ready to catch some sleep.
Modrić, like a loyal sidekick, saw this and lay down across from him.
"Get a good nap in. Sleeping tonight's gonna be tough," said Kosović.
Suke looked up. "Why won't we be able to sleep?"
Kosović shrugged. "Based on past experience, once we arrive in Banja Luka, Serb fans will start shouting insults at us and making noise outside the hotel all night."
Suke blinked, then promptly closed his eyes. "I'd better get that nap in now!"
Around 9 PM, the train arrived in Banja Luka.
The team had pre-arranged a local bus for pick-up.
The bus met them in the underground parking lot of the station—clearly, Van Stajak had no intention of making a public appearance.
But even so, some local Serbs had accurately identified their bus and pulled up beside it, yelling abuse from their car windows and making offensive gestures.
Suke, watching a young man hang out the car window yelling obscenities, muttered, "I'd really like to punch that guy."
"Me too," nodded Skork. "They're so annoying."
When the bus finally arrived at the hotel, security had to hold back the Serb fans.
Suke finally felt the peace and quiet—until a loud boom! shattered the calm.
Fireworks exploded in the sky, making Suke jump.
Kosović laughed at Suke's startled reaction. "They'll keep launching fireworks throughout the night to stop us from sleeping."
"What if we can't sleep?"
"You figure it out." Kosović pulled out a pair of earplugs. "I always carry these for away games."
Coach Van Stoyak led the players through check-in at the hotel.
It wasn't much—more like a guesthouse than a proper hotel.
Two players per room. Suke was roomed with Modrić.
After washing up, Modrić pulled out a roll of tissue. "You can stuff these in your ears to—"
He stopped mid-sentence when he saw Suke already snoring on the bed.
He looked completely out cold.
Modrić chuckled, then gently took off Suke's shoes and socks, rolled him over to make space, pulled out a blanket, and covered him up.
Boom!
More fireworks lit up the sky, and the voices of Banja Luka fans jeering could be heard outside.
Modrić closed the curtains, turned to look at Suke—
Suke smacked his lips and turned over in his sleep.
He hadn't stirred at all.
"He really sleeps like a log!"
Suke had excellent sleep quality. Once he was out, it was nearly impossible to wake him.
That night, this trait turned out to be a huge advantage.
The next morning, Suke got up refreshed and full of energy. He'd slept like a baby.
Modrić, though yawning, also slept decently, thanks to his tissue-stuffed ears.
"Let's wash up and go eat."
They quickly freshened up and went down to the hotel dining area.
Most of the team was already there.
Kosović sat there with dark circles under his eyes, staring blankly.
"Good morning!" Suke said cheerfully as he sat next to him with a plate of food.
Kosović just nodded and chewed his bread without much energy.
"You didn't sleep, Captain?" Suke asked.
Kosović shook his head. "Didn't sleep at all."
"All night?! But we've got a game today!" Suke said in surprise.
Kosović let out a long sigh.
There was nothing he could do—he just couldn't fall asleep.
Soon, Coach Van Stoyak entered. He looked pretty tired too.
After asking around, he found that most of the older players hadn't slept well, while the younger ones had fared better.
Looking at the drowsy Kosović, Van Stoyak said, "Skip the pre-match field check. Go catch some sleep."
Kosović nodded.
He was so exhausted, but too agitated to rest.
Seeing this, Van Stoyak turned to Suke. "Be ready. If something happens, you might have to play the full 90 minutes."
"What do you mean, 'something happens'?"
Van Stoyak didn't say.
But when the team returned from the stadium after their pre-match warm-up, they saw Kosović in an even worse state.
He looked ten years older, his steps unsteady, constantly yawning.
No way he could play like that.
Suke understood—this was the "something" Van Stoyak had meant.
Given the circumstances, the coach had no choice but to adjust the lineup.
"Change of plan. Suke starts today," he said. Then added, "Suke and Boame will start. Kosović and Oliveira will be on the bench."
Oliveira widened his eyes. Why am I benched? He had slept just fine!
But Van Stoyak didn't even glance at him. Instead, he turned to goalkeeper Kišch. "You're the on-field captain today. Keep the morale up."
Kišch nodded firmly. "Got it Coach."