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Returning to the original field on the edge of the farm, it was still in ruins, and the pitch was in no shape to be maintained.
The Mostar Rangers, despite being a second-division team, still faced the same reality: all of Bosnia and Herzegovina is amateur except for the Super League.
Many of the players on Mostar Rangers had their own businesses, so they didn't have much time for training.
The only training day of the week was their match day.
And on this day, the players would drop their things and gather at the field.
Around 1 p.m., the players arrived one by one. Since Mostar Rangers only had 12 players, they could play 6v6 matches during training.
But today, there were some surprises.
"Barkch said he would take a leave of absence, and it seems like he has some physical issues today," Mlinar told Olipe.
Olipe grabbed his forehead with an expression of helplessness.
There were very few players, and their endurance was too low.
In the second division, there have been instances where teams canceled due to lack of personnel, and the same goes for training fields.
"Alright, I'll step in for him," Olipe said, taking off his coat as the manager prepared to play.
The crowd gathered, and Olipe began to explain the tactics.
"Guys, let's change the way we play today."
"We used to have a single point of organization, but this time, we're going to add one more," Olipe said.
"I! Me!"
Suker couldn't wait to stand up and say, "I'm here to organize things."
Everyone stared at Suker in surprise, even Mlinar.
—Can you do it?— Mlinar asked curiously.
Suker gave a thumbs-up. "If you can, how about you play another half-season?"
Mlinar was momentarily stunned and scratched his cheek.
Normally, when you see the other person embarrassed, you'd give up.
But Suker didn't relent: "Just half a season, and if after that, you're still not feeling well, then I'll step in."
Mlinar looked at Olipe, who pursed his lips. "You can last half a season, right?"
Mlinar thought for a moment and then sighed. "Fine, it's just half a season, and that's the limit."
Upon hearing this, everyone smiled.
Mlinar was so important to the team that Suker trusted he could step up and take command after half a season.
"Let's start!"
With a wave of his hand, Suker began walking toward the field.
At the same time, in the goal on the edge of the yard, a hooded teenager entered.
—Is there a match?
Luka Modric entered curiously, soon seeing the Mostar Rangers players training.
There was a big gap between the Bosnia and Herzegovina Premier League and the First Division, which made it miserable for teams that got promoted to the top league only to be relegated every year.
The second division was even worse.
After watching for a moment, Modric shook his head.
"Little discipline, not enough play in general, no rigorous defense."
Modric assessed the situation.
A plate of loose sand!
Still, these players weren't bad.
For example, the number 10 in the midfield, despite his age, had very solid basic skills, passing and receiving the ball very smoothly, and the ball placement was reasonable, but he lacked an overall vision and kicked the ball too much, which caused the team to miss counterattack opportunities.
As for the short guy in the front, what was this guy running for?
Modric stayed on the sidelines, watching Suker's position, which seemed somewhat familiar from a distance.
At that moment, Suker suddenly shouted loudly, "No! Incorrect! Not like that!"
Suker interrupted the game, walking over to Mlinar. "Boss, pass me the ball! Don't pass it forward, pass it to my feet."
Mlinar smirked. "Can you hold it? Behind you is Roten Marschi."
Suker turned his head to look, and the 1.9-meter-tall Rotenmusch raised his eyebrows at Suker, flexing his pectorals as if showing off.
"Leave it, just pass it to me."
Mlinar shook his head. "Alright, I got it."
The game restarted, and Suker kept moving from side to side. When he saw Mlinar step forward, Suker immediately withdrew.
Mlinar also noticed Suker, who quickly passed the ball.
Suker received the ball and continued to fall back.
Instead of stopping where he was or turning around, he planned to make a big circle and use his agility to bypass Rotenmusch's defense.
When he finally turned and was ready to pass, the front line was empty.
—Where's everyone?
Suker shouted loudly.
When he turned his head to look, the two wings were parallel to his position, and Mlinar didn't make a run forward after the pass.
Suker was so angry he was about to spit blood.
But he could only bite the bullet and was eventually brought down by the defenders.
And this scene kept happening.
No one knew what Suker was trying to do, but Modric, sitting on the sidelines, was starting to feel something strange the more he watched.
Why didn't he step forward?
The little striker had helped draw out the defense and was also pulling the defense to the sides.
But the wings didn't fill the center of the group to form a triangle with the smaller forwards.
The midfielder who passed the ball was also completely lacking in forward movement.
It was going to exhaust the little guy.
Suker didn't give up, kept running, constantly shouting and directing his teammates.
But the scene was getting more chaotic.
Suker was tough and firmly believed that if they kept running, they still had a chance to win the game.
Suker could hold out, but Olipe couldn't.
Vomit!
A sound of vomiting was heard.
Suker stepped on the ball and turned his head to look, only to see Olipe hunched over on the bench, his body shaking violently.
Apparently, it was too much physical effort, and he had thrown up.
When the crowd gathered around him, Olipe's face turned red, and he was panting like a cow.
"I can't do it, run. I can't run anymore."
Olipe couldn't say anything.
Obviously, this amount of exercise was still too difficult for Oripe.
Everyone looked at each other. How could such a small number of people do intensive training?
"Is there anyone still here?"
Suddenly, Suker pointed to the side.
The crowd turned their heads to look.
At the same time, Modric also saw the scene.
Soon, Suker sneaked over.
"Hey, come play with us, little guy!"
Suker said simply.
Modric was about to refuse, but was directly pulled by Suker.
"Me."
Modric was dragged into the crowd and shouted, "He agreed!"
Modric's eyes widened.
He didn't remember agreeing to anything!
But Suker had already begun to push him into the game.
—How about playing in midfield? You can't play as a defender depending on your size!
Modric's stature was slender and just a little taller than Suker.
Modric's personality was a little shy, and he nodded slightly.
It wasn't a game, it was just kicking around, no problem.
Besides, it was quite boring for him to train alone.
Most importantly, he was curious to see what this guy in front of him would do.
Modric had already realized that this was the guy who had jumped off the old bridge, but didn't expect to be playing football.
—Aren't you taking off your coat?
Suker asked, pointing to the jacket covering Modric's face.
Modric shook his head slightly. "No."
His voice was light, full of confidence.
Soon, Olipe was off the field, and Modric was at the far end of the line.
When the game resumed, Modric jumped into play.
Luka Modric didn't run with such intensity, but he always kept his head up, which contrasted with most of the field, where players looked down at the ball.
The first time Modric touched the ball, he just distributed it to the right wing and didn't cling to it.
However, the next second, instead of staying where he was, he ran forward.
"Pass!"
Modric saw that his wings were being limited and immediately called for a pass.
Vitolić leaned on the opponent's fullback and immediately passed the ball.
By this time, the center-backs had stepped up.
Modric saw this in his eyes, and his feet subtly crossed backward, which actually filtered the ball through his legs.
The whole process was subtle and very relaxed.
"Wow!"
Outside the field, Olipe, who was sitting on the ground, couldn't help but exclaim.
Even Mlinar on the field couldn't help but shout "beautiful."
When they turned their heads, Suker had already passed the two center-backs with the ball, dribbling quickly into the box and firing a right-footed shot at the goal.
However, the ball wasn't strong enough and was caught by the goalkeeper.
Yesssss!
Suker frantically rubbed his head, his face full of regret.
But in the end, he gave a thumbs-up to Modric.
"That was a good story."
Modric nodded slightly.
There was no difficulty or pressure in this level of training.
After all, he didn't even look down on the Premier League of Bosnia and Herzegovina.
After seeing Modric's wonderful performance, the players also began to trust each other and passed the ball more frequently.
Suker also took the initiative to fall back.
Luka Modric saw Suker and immediately passed the ball to him.
The pass wasn't fast, and Modric wanted to do a one-two with Suker, passing it off the barrier.
But Suker cut inside, turned to one side, and faced Modric with his back.
He didn't plan to cooperate with him.
Modric furrowed his brows slightly.
But the next second, Suker made a ruthless undercut pass.
The ball slid between central defenders Kobaro and fullback Bastocci, slipping into the gap on the wing and was picked up by the winger Maslozic, who had completed the attack, and immediately entered the box.
"Wow!"
This second pass made Olipe exclaim again, and he couldn't help but stand up.
The others had similar expressions.
After all, this pass was beautiful from any angle.
And for Modric, the pass was also very powerful.
It wasn't just the pass itself, but the vision of the little guy in front of him, the overall panorama, that was key.
He used it as bait to pass the ball to the more dangerous side.
If it wasn't a coincidence, then this was definitely top-tier playmaking vision for a midfielder.
End of this chapter