July 15th, 1:00 PM, Zagreb Time
At Dinamo Zagreb's training base, the players were packing their gear, preparing to head to Maksimir Stadium.
The 18-man matchday squad had been announced. Those who performed well during the friendlies were all selected.
The substitutes who didn't make the list felt somewhat disappointed, but they understood—it was down to their own performances.
Besić had given them chances, but they didn't take them.
Naturally, Suker was in the squad, and very likely to start.
Because of this, he appeared very upbeat.
"Everyone, take your equipment. The home kits will be delivered directly to the stadium," Besić walked around, constantly reminding the young, restless players.
"Srna, you left your shorts behind!"
"Luka, your training socks!"
"Whose underwear is this?!"
There was still a trace of nervousness in the locker room.
After all, for most of the players, this was their debut for Dinamo Zagreb—nervousness was only natural.
Suker packed his gear and slung his bag over his shoulder.
"I'm heading out!" he said to Modrić, who nodded in return.
Suker stepped out of the locker room.
Dinamo Zagreb's team bus was parked right outside.
At the bus entrance stood a man with a beer belly, wearing the team's home jersey and a vest over it. His belly pushed the shirt out in a round bulge.
He was Dinamo Zagreb's team bus driver, named Kresimir Kredivač.
He had served Dinamo Zagreb for 20 years, and in two more, he would retire.
Kredivač was a die-hard Dinamo Zagreb fan. He had a thick, scruffy beard, and when he saw Suker, he opened his arms and picked him up in a bear hug.
"Look who it is! Hahaha! Our Super No. 7—Tiny Suker!"
Kredivač got along well with the players.
But he had a particular fondness for Suker.
Mainly because Suker's recent performances in the friendlies had completely won him over.
Especially that game against Red Star Belgrade, where Suker single-handedly carried the team—his explosive display made the old Kredivač instantly fall in love with this kid.
"Don't call me Tiny Suker!" He protested.
Kredivač set him down, pointed at him, and said, "You're Tiny Suker."
Then he pointed at Davor Šuker behind them and said, "He's The Suker!"
Davor Šuker rolled his eyes.
Not many people on the team could joke around with Davor Šuker like that—his reputation and status spoke for themselves.
But for Kredivač, this wasn't an issue at all.
After all, he had been the team driver long before Davor became a star.
He was easily the most senior person at Dinamo Zagreb.
Everyone at the club respected Kredivač.
Soon, he picked up Modrić with the same gusto.
Suker rolled his eyes again.
Davor Šuker laughed, "That's just his way of encouraging people."
Suker nodded, "I know, but it still feels weird."
Davor smiled, "If you don't like it, you can tell him. Kredivač respects everyone's opinion."
Suker thought for a moment, then shook his head, "Forget it."
Once everyone was on the bus, Kredivač started the engine and turned to face the group.
"Kredivač's bus is heading straight for Maksimir Stadium! That's right! Tens of thousands of fans are waiting for you there—and of course, our opponents!"
Then he raised his fist and shouted, "Let's go kick Slaven Belupo's ass!"
"Let's Goo!" he yelled.
The bus slowly pulled away from the training base and headed down the main road toward Maksimir Stadium.
Located in northern Zagreb, this stadium was also the primary home of the Croatian national team.
It had a capacity of 40,000 fans.
The structure resembled an open cardboard box: three sides with double-tiered stands and one curved stand with a giant screen showing the score and match stats.
Today, Maksimir Stadium was buzzing with excitement.
The season opener!The return of Davor Šuker!A rebuilt team!
All of these factors had fueled fan enthusiasm for this match.
For Dinamo Zagreb supporters, last season was a disaster.
They were still holding in their frustration.
They were the dominant force in the Croatian league!
They wanted to reclaim their throne.
So the season opener had truly ignited their passion.
"My heartbeat drums for Dinamo!""My heartbeat drums for Dinamo!""My heartbeat drums for Dinamo!"
Tens of thousands of fans shouted, filling the stadium with thunderous roars.
Led by the stadium DJ, fans gave it their all to create an electric home atmosphere.
Meanwhile, in the second-tier seats on the north stand—
Dikamoci had brought nine children from the orphanage to the stadium.
The roaring chants and surging heat fascinated the kids from the orphanage.
The thunderous cheers made their hearts pound.
The waves of shouts made their bodies feel hot and restless.
At the same time, they felt a little scared.
"Suker is going to play here?" a boy named Bavija asked nervously, shrinking his neck as he looked around.
Dikamoci smiled, "They're all cheering for Suker!"
Bavija nodded earnestly, "We'll cheer hard too!"
He looked around at the feverish crowd—the wild faces showing the purest love for Dinamo Zagreb.
He never imagined that his childhood friend from the orphanage would one day step onto this field.
Today, in the heart of Zagreb, under the gaze of tens of thousands, he would begin his professional football career.
At the same time, Dikamoci was quite anxious.
He didn't know if Sukេរ would start, play well, or even make the squad.
Just then, the crowd erupted.
A thunderous cheer exploded through the stadium.
The players were entering the pitch.
Bavija immediately spotted the figure in the blue No. 7 jersey.
Dikamoci's heart jumped.
The No. 7 jersey!That's a starter's jersey!
Was Suker going to start?
On the opposite side, near the front of the south stand—
Bus driver Kredivač ran out from the tunnel and made it to the front row.
"Just in time!" he panted, wiping sweat from his brow.
A group of older fans in the crowd waved at him.
Kredivač turned and grinned, "Botić! You guys came too?"
The white-haired fan named Botić smiled, "It's Davor Šuker's comeback debut—how could I miss it?"
"I'm here to see Suker too!" Kredivač laughed. "But not Davor Šuker!"
Another wave of cheers exploded.
Kredivač looked toward the field and saw Suker and Modrić doing long-pass drills.
Standing about ten meters apart, the two passed the ball back and forth without letting it touch the ground.
As the drill continued, the crowd roared louder and louder.
Suker trapped the ball with his chest, juggled it with his left foot, then struck it with his right.
On the other end, Modrić mimicked him.
But this time, Modrić's pass went a little wide.
Suker turned quickly, raised his leg, and stopped the ball mid-air with his foot, sending it straight upward.
Adjusting his position, he volleyed the ball back sideways.
From the stands came a wave of applause.
Clap clap clap clap clap!"Nice control!""Great play, kid!""Let's go, No. 7!"
They didn't know his name, so they just shouted his jersey number.
Suker wasn't quite sure how to react to the fan enthusiasm.
At Zrinjski Mostar, the fans weren't nearly this passionate.
Just then, someone in the stands shouted, "Incoming!"
Suker turned quickly and positioned himself, trapping the ball under his foot the moment it landed.
A new round of cheers erupted.
Suker smiled and gave a thumbs-up to the stands, still stepping on the ball.
"This atmosphere's amazing!" he said to Modrić.
The two continued their warm-up while chatting.
"Of course," Modrić said. "Dinamo Zagreb fans always support their own. They cheer for every player—even the subs."
Suker nodded with a smile. "I'll pay them back with goals!"
Modrić nodded. "Start strong in the opening minutes?"
Suker: "Absolutely. Let's go for it!"