Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!
Suker's phone vibrated incessantly. When he checked, he found numerous missed calls.
Mandžukić, Dujmović, Vukojević, Rakitić, Srna...?
What was this guy doing here?
Among them was a text from Dujmović:
"You bastard! First Gisele Bündchen, now Anne Hathaway? You absolute dog! How dare you..."
Suker promptly put his phone away.
"What's wrong?" Anne Hathaway asked, turning to him.
Suker replied calmly, "Just time to feed my dog."
"What?" Anne looked puzzled.
Suker didn't explain further.
As they entered the venue, they instantly became the center of attention.
Suker's influence alone was immense, but paired with Anne Hathaway, the spotlight intensified.
Compared to models, Anne's fame and appeal were on another level—especially in the sports world, where a Hollywood A-lister like her was a rare sight.
The moment Suker and Anne stepped in, all eyes were on them.
"I always wondered why you never brought a plus-one. Now I see—you were saving the best for last!"
Modrić hugged Suker, whispering through gritted teeth, "You lucky bastard!"
He then gave Suker a firm pat on the back.
Anne watched with amusement, finding their dynamic endearing.
"I was going to introduce you to someone, but you've already found the perfect match," Casillas teased.
Modrić and Casillas played off each other, clearly enjoying the moment.
They rarely got to rib Suker like this.
But Suker didn't seem fazed.
"First of all, Miss Anne and I are—"
"Just call me Anne."
Ooooh~
Modrić couldn't resist.
Suker swatted at him.
"What's with the 'oooh'?"
"We're not dating. I don't care, but don't let misunderstandings create rumors that could affect Anne's career."
Anne blinked. "I don't mind either."
Ooooh~
Yooooo~
Modrić and Casillas erupted again.
Suker sighed—this time, they had him cornered.
"Alright, go do your thing."
Suker led Anne away, their friends' teasing fading behind them.
Anne smiled. "No need to apologize. I like how you interact—it feels genuine. You must be very close."
Suker nodded. "Luka and I met in 2002. We've been teammates too."
"I know him—Luka Modrić, Croatia's midfield maestro, also Manchester United's engine. A fantastic player."
Suker raised an eyebrow. "You really do know your football."
"Not all Americans are clueless about real football—the round one, not the egg-shaped one."
"Football is round. The oval one is rugby."
Anne chuckled. "Whatever you say."
The ceremony was packed with familiar faces—Ronaldo, Zidane, Beckham, Boban...
Boban sought Suker out.
"We're up for Best Team. I'm here to collect."
Suker deadpanned, "That'll go to Spain."
As World Cup winners, Spain were shoo-ins.
Boban shrugged. "Spain it is, then. I'm here to see you win anyway."
His eyes kept flicking to Anne, clearly surprised.
Suker gave a brief introduction before moving on.
After mingling, Suker was ushered to the front row—center seat, flanked by Xavi and Sneijder, fellow Ballon d'Or contenders.
Anne sat directly behind him.
Lights dimmed.
The screen lit up with highlights of the nominees.
Most had one or two clips—Suker had four.
His brilliance demanded it.
Host Sketip took the stage, greeting the crowd.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the 2010 FIFA Annual Awards! Tonight's honors are plentiful—let's see who takes them home!"
He gestured left.
"One man dances past defenders like they're statues—Lionel Messi!"
Messi smiled awkwardly at the camera.
"Barcelona dominated last year, with Xavi and Iniesta—Spain's World Cup-winning maestros!"
The duo appeared on split screen.
"Handsome players abound, but few combine looks, charisma, and skill like Cristiano Ronaldo!"
Ronaldo winked at the camera.
Suker cringed internally.
Ronaldo's confidence was legendary—this was the man who'd soon unleash "Siuuu!" on the world.
Anne leaned in.
"I think you're sexier."
Suker turned, startled.
She winked.
Is she flirting?
The host's tone shifted.
"I didn't believe in aliens—until I saw a man score five goals in nine minutes. Unreal."
"League, Champions League, World Cup—he's proven it all. Please welcome—Suker!"
Thunderous applause erupted.
Suker waved modestly.
"Finally, the architect of a treble—Wesley Sneijder!"
The screen displayed the golden Ballon d'Or.
The main event.
"But first—other awards!"
First up: Best Coach.
Mourinho, Del Bosque, and Ancelotti were nominated, though only the first two attended.
"The winner—José Mourinho!"
Applause filled the room.
Mourinho's Inter Milan treble earned him the honor.
Uncharacteristically subdued, he gave a gracious speech before exiting for interviews.
Next: Puskás Award (Best Goal).
"From countless stunning strikes, we've chosen one. And the winner is—Suker!"
"For his solo run against South Korea at the World Cup!"
Suker stood, smiling.
His first trophy of the night.
Amid cheers, he took the stage.
"Honored to receive this..."
"Suker! What a goal!"
A voice rang out.
Suker spotted Inzaghi in the crowd.
"Filippo! New girlfriend?"
Laughter erupted.
Inzaghi protested, "No! You've met her before!"
Suker feigned confusion. "Pretty sure it was someone else."
"Bullshit!"
The crowd ate it up.
"Alright, alright. Hi, Chiara."
The model waved back.
"Back on topic—this award belongs to my teammates too. Luka, stop waving—I thanked you already!"
More laughter.
Modrić sheepishly lowered his hand.
"To my coaches, everyone who shaped me—this is yours as much as mine."
After a quick interview, Suker returned—only to ascend again for the FIFPro World XI:
Goalkeeper: Casillas.
Defenders: Maicon, Lúcio, Piqué, Puyol.
Midfielders: Sneijder, Xavi, Iniesta.
Forwards: Messi, Suker, Ronaldo.
Then came the Most Influential Player award.
Three trophies in, the host joked Suker was the night's busiest man.
With only the Ballon d'Or left, tension peaked.
FIFA's president announced:
"The 2010 FIFA Ballon d'Or goes to—Suker!"
The room erupted.
Standing ovations.
Messi and Ronaldo clapped politely, masking disappointment.
Xavi, Iniesta, and Sneijder wore resigned smiles—especially Sneijder, runner-up despite his stellar year.
Team glory hadn't outweighed Suker's individual brilliance.
Suker exhaled.
The first unified Ballon d'Or was his.
Fireworks lit the sky as he claimed his throne.
Spanish commentator Gonzales declared:
"Suker's 2007 , 2008, and now 2010—he's pulling away from his peers!"
"Croatia's prodigy is forging a legacy beyond Davor Šuker's!"
"At just 24, how many more can he win?"
"Decades from now, his name will echo in football's halls!"
Marca's headline:
[Suker Crowned 2010 FIFA Ballon d'Or Winner!]
Beneath it, Suker in Real Madrid white, a phantom crown above his head.
Four awards. One historic night.
Florentino, beaming, told press:
"When I paid €100 million, critics called me reckless. Now? He's priceless!"
"Suker is Real Madrid. Together, we'll scale new heights!"
His words rang with conviction.