The morning training session went very smoothly. Suke further strengthened his bond with Kosovic's little clique.
Even though it was just a morning, Suke used his personal charm to quickly become likable.
Knowing how to win people over is a must-have skill for every orphanage kid.
At lunch in the cafeteria, Suke held a huge bowl of rice and dug in with gusto.
The club's cafeteria had started offering more diverse dishes.
But Suke seemed fixated on rice. Compared to other foods, this was pure delicacy—and it filled him up.
His small frame hugging a giant bowl, he shoveled rice into his mouth nonstop.
Suke's massive appetite surprised everyone.
"How long has it been since you last ate?" Hajcic couldn't help but complain.
Suke quickly chewed and swallowed before answering, "We often had no food before. The longest I went without eating was four days."
Kosovic pushed his tray of beef over to him.
"Eat more."
He was one of the older players—already 30 and a father to a cute little boy.
Maybe it was his paternal instinct kicking in, but he couldn't bear to hear such stories.
Suke didn't hesitate—he stabbed the beef with his fork and started stuffing his mouth.
Seeing Suke wolf down the food, Hajcic shook his head. "Don't overeat, we've got a scrimmage this afternoon. Don't puke."
Still munching on rice, Suke muttered, "I digest fast!"
Next to Suke, Modrić was also eating, though clearly in smaller portions and far more composed.
Modrić admired Suke. In just one morning, he had managed to become friendly with so many people.
And because of that, Modrić himself had slowly been accepted into the little group.
"This afternoon, let's pass to Suke more, help him get used to the first team's rhythm," Kosovic, the leader of their group, said proactively.
Since Suke had joined their crew, Kosovic felt it was only right to look after the little brother.
Suke immediately gave him a thumbs up. "Captain, you rock!"
Kosovic laughed and corrected, "Vice captain!"
At the mention of the captain, Mašović suddenly said, "The captain should be healed up by now, right?"
"Even if he is, he's done for. The injury was too serious. I think he's going to retire."
The atmosphere turned somber.
For any player, injuries are a nightmare.
"As pros, we can't avoid injuries—we just have to protect ourselves as much as possible."
After lunch, they had half an hour to rest.
Suke, as expected, was a bit overstuffed—he had eaten too comfortably and lost control.
To stay in shape, he stood for the whole half hour to speed up digestion.
After standing for thirty minutes, the discomfort faded.
The afternoon sun was even more brutal, but training had to go on.
When the players returned to the pitch, Head Coach Van Stuyack and the coaching staff were already waiting.
"This afternoon is a scrimmage—first team versus subs."
He paused and looked at Kosovic, "You start with the subs."
Kosovic shrugged—he didn't mind.
He knew from the beginning that Suke wasn't here to replace him.
Suke had been brought in to expand tactical options—Kosovic was a traditional target man, while Suke played more of a dropping, supporting forward role.
Van Stuyack called Suke over and said plainly, "You might feel out of sync at first, but just play like you did in our match. Got it?"
Suke nodded immediately. "Got it!"
It might have been tough alone, but since Modrić was in the first team too—and the two of them already had chemistry—it would make linking up and attacking much easier.
"No holding back from the subs. Normal physical contact is allowed—just no dangerous fouls."
With that, the players donned training bibs and took the field.
Suke stood at the front of the first team line. At just 155 cm tall, he looked almost comical.
But the subs knew just how dangerous this little guy was.
On the sidelines, Van Stuyack rubbed his hands in anticipation.
Assistant coach Vandil smiled and said, "The tactical instructions are in place. Now it's up to them."
Van Stuyack nodded. "Two tactical systems. This is our first real step toward the Bosnian championship."
Then he shouted loudly, "Let's go!"
The match kicked off.
The subs took the ball first, passing it around the back.
Suk immediately charged forward, heading straight for the ball.
"Not again!"
Pokačic's eyelid twitched—seeing this little guy charging straight at him made him panic.
He quickly passed the ball to fullback Rovistek.
At the same time, Suke veered off and chased after Rovistek instead.
Rovistek's first instinct was to pass to the winger.
But when he looked up, he saw Vice Captain Oliveira blocking the passing lane tightly.
He panicked.
Suke was bearing down from the side, and Modrić was waiting in the middle for a steal.
With no other option, Rovistek hoofed the ball forward.
Bang!
The ball soared into the first team's half.
Van Stuyack on the sidelines clenched his fist. "It worked!"
This was high pressing!
By aggressively pushing forward, cutting off passing lanes, and applying pressure, they forced the opponent into a mistake.
It either results in a steal—or a panicked clearance.
And with a clearance, possession usually changes hands.
Sure enough, first-team defensive mid Boban headed the ball to winger Oliveira, who laid it back to Modrić.
As soon as Modrić received it, Suke began dropping back.
Every coach's eyes were locked on Suke, waiting to see how he'd handle it.
As he retreated, Suke kept scanning both flanks, watching teammate positions and looking for open space.
When Modrić faced pressure, Suke immediately moved to create a passing lane.
Modrić passed it forward, then moved into the next open spot.
Suke returned the pass instantly without hesitation, then ran a few steps ahead, dropped back again for the ball.
No matter where the ball went, Suke positioned himself toward that direction.
This created a constant passing option up front, making the team's attacking rhythm incredibly smooth.
"Wow!"
Assistant coach Vandil couldn't help but exclaim.
Suke's performance was impressive.
They expected him to need time to adjust to the higher tempo—but he was perfectly in sync from the start.
Suke was smart, too.
Knowing his physical limitations, he minimized time on the ball to avoid losing it in duels.
Precise, quick short passes and a clear vision of the field helped the attack flow beautifully.
Everyone on the sideline watched in awe as the first team suddenly looked like a different beast.
Meanwhile, the sub team's defense was under unbearable pressure.
The biggest surprise was that Suke seemed completely transformed.
Three weeks ago, they could still contain him a little—but now, with stronger teammates supporting him, he was wreaking havoc.
Then, Suke turned his back to goal. Modrić looked up at him.
Just one glance and they were on the same wavelength.
Modrić played a diagonal pass behind Suke's left side, a bit too strong.
Suke feinted for the ball, spun right, letting it run past—and tricked Pokačic in the process.
"Nice!"
Van Stuyack clapped with glee.
But the ball rolled into open space—no players from either side were there.
It rolled out of bounds.
Suke: "…"
Modrić: "…"
They both turned to a clueless Oliveira.
He shrugged, nudged the turf with his foot, spit, and walked off.
"He didn't even run for it!" Modrić complained.
Suke shook his head. "Maybe he's not used to it yet."
Modrić insisted, "No—he's always like that."
Suke wasn't sure what to say. It was… weird.
Even though they didn't score, the pass between Suk and Modrić was incredibly dangerous.
One pass, one off-ball run—they'd ripped a massive hole in the defense.
If Oliveira had kept up, it would've been a clear one-on-one with the keeper.
After that play, Suke only got more comfortable.
But the frustrated subs started getting rough—sometimes knocking Suke over.
To avoid getting tackled before even touching the ball, Suke had to move quicker and find more space.
The whole session was about building chemistry. After several missed chances, Suke finally assisted left winger Villar for a goal.
Scoring wasn't the main thing—it was the execution of their tactics that mattered.
The new system wasn't stable yet, but they could already see it taking shape.
Coach Van Stuyack was very pleased with the progress.
Suke's first day of training ended with a solid performance.
The best part? His chemistry with the team was building fast.
Of course, that was also thanks to the first-team players being willing to pass to him and bring him into the flow.
After training, Suke made sure to thank his older teammates.
Being young and sweet-talking helped them like him even more.
When they finished and walked back to the locker room, they passed a sink with shoes hanging above it.
Suke saw Boame standing there, head down, scrubbing boots with a brush.
Every player that passed threw their shoes into the sink—for Boame to clean.
Even Modrić did the same.
Kosovic tossed his boots in, then turned to Suk. "You too."
Suk shook his head. "I can clean my own."
"Put them in. It's the rule," Kosovic whispered, "If you don't, it'll be worse for him tomorrow."
Hearing that, Suke silently tossed in his own battered shoes—with several holes in them.
"You gonna patch these holes too?"
Kosovic: "…"
Boame paused, looked up at Suke with cold eyes.
Kosovic grabbed Suke by the collar and ran off!