Suke's enthusiasm for training was sky-high, and it began to rub off on the other players.
First to be affected were Modric and Skolk, Suke's two little "tails" who were constantly glued to him. Naturally, when Suke made changes to his routine, these two felt it the most.
Modric had his own training plan, but seeing Suke going all out triggered a sense of urgency in him. Before long, he had joined Suke's training regiment.
Skolk was no different. With the two rising stars working so hard, how could a substitute like him afford to slack off?
The term "involution" didn't exist yet, but it was already manifesting in spirit.
Thanks to Suke's relentless efforts, many of the team's starting players began to feel the pressure. The overall training morale soared.
And no one was happier about this than the head coach.
Recently, when Van Stoyak and his coaching staff arrived at the pitch in the mornings, they found that the players had already completed their warm-ups and were ready to dive straight into training sessions.
This not only saved time but also greatly improved efficiency.
Van Stoyak was delighted by the change.
Every championship team is built on more than just luck.
Champions are a product of many factors—intense training, stellar performances, and a dash of fortune.
But above all, what defines a champion team is that inner drive—morale.
Kosovic headed the ball into the goal with a powerful leap, beating goalkeeper Kisch.
Suke gave him a thumbs-up from afar.
Every time he saw Kosovic leap and smash a header over an opponent's head, Suke couldn't help but feel a bit envious.
He'd never experienced the thrill of dunking a header over someone's head—but it must be exhilarating.
Unfortunately, with his petite frame, that was something he just couldn't imitate.
But Suke had his own way of playing.
When Modric passed the ball toward him, Suke feinted a dash but lightly flicked the ball with his toe.
At the same time, Modric sprinted past Suke's side. Suke raised his right foot and, with a heavy heel kick, bounced the ball into Modric's path.
Gasps of admiration echoed across the pitch.
Modric didn't waste the brilliant pass. He smashed the ball into the net.
Clap clap clap clap clap!
All four coaches applauded from the sidelines.
They applauded the goal, but even more so Suke's heel pass.
"His passes are getting more imaginative by the day!" assistant coach Vandir exclaimed.
It had only been three weeks since Suke joined Zrinjski Mostar, and his form was constantly improving.
This kid was like a never-ending treasure trove!
Of course, part of it was because Suke's chemistry with the team was steadily increasing.
time—when Modric passed him the ball, Suk stopped it but didn't rush the pass.
Waited for winger Biliar to drop back a few steps and launch into a sprint.
The moment Biliar took off, Suke casually slipped the ball between the center-back and full-back, then jogged toward the penalty area.
As Biliar reached the edge of the pitch, the opposing defense was in chaos.
Boame was pressing the front, Suke in the center, and Modric charging from the far post.
Three threats, all spread out.
Biliar cut the ball back to Suke, who calmly slotted it into the net.
Suke skipped over to Biliar.
The latter pointed back at Suke with a huge smile on his face.
The chemistry between them had rapidly improved, perhaps due to their growing on-field synergy—or maybe because of all the assists Suke had given him.
Whatever the reason, Biliar was really enjoying the game now.
In the past, he had mostly played a supporting role—pulling defenders away so Kosovic could get his shots.
Now, with Suke as the center-forward, Biliar was getting more scoring chances himself.
Three matches, two goals, one assist.
Biliar had already matched his output from seven or eight games last season. He was feeling great.
"You could've passed it back to me," Biliar said excitedly. "We could've torn their defense apart even more."
"Too complicated!" Suke waved him off.
"Come on, just give it a try!" Biliar wrapped his arm around Suke's shoulder, pinched his baby-fat cheeks, and grinned playfully.
"Eww~~" Suke pushed him away in disgust.
Biliar just laughed, wrapping his arm tighter around Suke and switching from pinching to squishing his face.
Suke finally escaped his grasp, rubbing his cheeks with a sulky look.
He had to admit—his skin was soft and smooth, even though it was a bit tanned.
But being treated like a plush toy by a bunch of grown men? Not his thing.
Still laughing, Biliar kept teasing Suk.
Until Oliveira showed up.
"Having fun?" Oliveira asked, staring at Biliar.
Biliar's smile froze. He coughed awkwardly. "Well, I scored. Isn't that worth smiling about?"
Oliveira was silent for a moment, then said, "How about Neum Port tonight? My treat."
Normally, Biliar would have happily accepted.
But this time, he hesitated.
"Captain, I'm not feeling great lately. I need to rest. And the pressure in recent matches has been intense," Biliar replied with a smile. "You understand, right?"
Oliveira didn't take rejection well.
What made it worse was that someone who used to be close to him—Biliar—was starting to drift away.
He stared at Biliar for a moment. "Hope you perform well."
Biliar smiled awkwardly.
Only after Oliveira left did he let out a long sigh.
He shook his head to clear his thoughts, then shouted, "Suke! Let me pinch your face again!"
From afar came an angry roar.
Biliar just grinned and shrugged, clearly unbothered.
By 4 PM, training for the day was over.
Players began filtering out.
"Training's been brutal lately," Masovic grumbled, glancing at Suke. "All because of some kid."
Suke rolled his eyes. "You're all just lazy. I'm just raising the bar."
Hacic smiled. "But it feels great. So fulfilling."
Hard training + two straight wins = high team confidence. Everyone felt energized, like they had endless stamina.
Oliveira suddenly slammed his locker door shut.
The room went quiet. All eyes turned to him.
He slung his bag over one shoulder and left without a word.
Once he was gone, the locker room buzzed back to life.
"Oliveira's not doing too well these days," Masovic noted. "Last match he came off the bench, and even during training he's been stuck with the reserves."
Hacic added, "Boame's been outperforming him—and is way more of a team player."
"Reap what you sow," Suke chimed in. "He did it to himself."
Even though Oliveira hadn't targeted Suke directly, he couldn't stand the guy.
Oliveira wasn't disciplined—he'd party at Neum Port even the night before a match. That was totally unacceptable to Suke.
At first, he kept quiet, being the new guy and all.
But now, with his growing influence and closer ties to teammates, he didn't care if Oliveira was the captain. He just ignored him.
At that moment, the locker room door opened again.
Equipment manager Parkic stepped in and called out, "Suke! Here's the key!"
Suke dashed over eagerly.
Parkic handed him a spare key. "This is the backup. Take good care of it—you're responsible if it gets lost."
Suke grinned and nodded.
Since Suke always came early and stayed late, Parkic had to open and close the facilities for him. To make it easier, Suke had asked for a key, and to his surprise, Parkic agreed right away.
Parkic patted his round head and said, "Don't overdo it. Don't get hurt."
Suke nodded quickly. "Thanks, Grandpa Parkic!"
The old man's smile deepened, wrinkles blooming like a chrysanthemum.
He really liked this polite, hardworking kid.
After Parkic left, Suke began putting his gear back on.
The others looked at each other.
"You're training again?"
"Just half an hour. You guys go ahead."
Without looking up, Suke walked out.
Kosovic stared at Suk's back. "So dedicated!"
He was honestly too tired to keep going.
Lockers started closing one after another.
Kosovic turned to look. A bunch of players who were about to leave were now putting their jerseys back on.
Among them were starters like Modric, Biliar, and Kamnar, and also substitutes like Skolk, Barton, and Boame.
They were all following in Suke's footsteps, walking out of the locker room.
Watching the young players' confident stride, a flicker of envy shone in Kosovic's eyes.