Bab 17: Croatia
He glanced at his phone, tempted to scroll through social media, but he knew that would only amplify his feelings of loneliness. Instead, he turned to the one thing that had always been there for him: football.
Luka pulled on his training gear and headed to the small gym he had set up in his spare room. It wasn't much – just a few weights, a yoga mat, and some resistance bands – but it was all he could afford using the bonuses from his contract.
As he began his workout routine, Luka's mind wandered to the habits he had picked up from studying his idols. He had read about Cristiano Ronaldo's dedication to physical conditioning and recovery, and had started mimicking some of the Portuguese star's routines. He had even invested in a set of compression sleeves to wear while sleeping, hoping to aid muscle recovery.
But unlike Ronaldo, Luka couldn't afford the high-tech cryotherapy chambers or personal chefs. He made do with ice baths in his tiny bathtub and YouTube tutorials on nutrition for athletes. It wasn't ideal, but Luka was determined to make the most of what he had.
As he pushed through another set of squats, Luka's thoughts turned to his upcoming trip to Croatia. The national team call-up still felt surreal. He was grateful that the Croatian Football Federation was covering his travel expenses – another reminder of his current financial limitations.
Luka's stats flashed through his mind:
Total Games: 5 Goals: 4 Assists: 8
He knew these numbers were exceptional, especially for someone his age. But instead of feeling pride, Luka felt a crushing pressure to maintain this level of performance.
Despite his reincarnation and the memories of his past life, Luka was still essentially a teenager. His 19-year-old mind from his previous life was still adapting to being back in a 17-year-old body, with all the hormonal and emotional challenges that came with it. The disconnect between his mental maturity and his physical youth often left him feeling disoriented and alone.
As night fell, Luka prepared for bed using his newly adopted routine. He slipped on his compression sleeves, feeling a bit silly but determined to optimize his recovery. As he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the excitement of joining the national team mingled with his anxiety about fitting in.
The next morning, Luka woke early, his stomach churning with nerves. He packed his bags, making sure to include his Dortmund training gear alongside the few casual clothes he owned. His wardrobe was limited – a few pairs of jeans, some t-shirts, and a single smart outfit for official functions. He made a mental note to invest in some better clothes if he ever got a bigger contract or sponsorship deal.
Luka pulled on a pair of slim-fit cut jeans, a plain white t-shirt, and a denim jacket. He hesitated before grabbing a black face mask – a reminder that the world was still grappling with the COVID-19 pandemic.
The taxi ride to the airport was quiet, Luka lost in thought about the challenge ahead. As he entered the bustling terminal, he felt the weight of expectations on his shoulders. Fans occasionally did double-takes as they recognized him, but the mask provided some anonymity.
After checking in and going through security, Luka found a quiet corner in the departure lounge. He put on his headphones, losing himself in a playlist of Croatian pop music – a small connection to the heritage he was about to fully embrace.
The flight to Zagreb was a blur of anxiety and anticipation. Luka tried to sleep but found himself instead visualizing training sessions and potential match scenarios. By the time the plane touched down in Croatia, he was a bundle of nervous energy.
As Luka stepped out of the airport, the warm Croatian sun hit his face. For a moment, he closed his eyes, allowing himself to feel a connection to this land of his ancestors. The bustling streets of Zagreb greeted him, a mix of historic architecture and modern life.
A driver from the Croatian Football Federation was waiting for him, holding a sign with his name. Luka approached, suddenly very aware of his youth and inexperience.
"Dobrodošli, Luka," the driver greeted him warmly. "Welcome to Croatia. Are you excited to join the team?"
Luka nodded, managing a smile despite his nerves. "Yes, very excited. And a bit nervous," he admitted.
The driver chuckled. "Don't worry, young man. You'll fit right in."
As they drove through the city towards the federation's headquarters, Luka took in the sights. The red-tiled roofs, the vibrant markets, the blend of Austro-Hungarian and socialist architecture – he had seen it so many times new it felt so new at the same time.
They arrived at a modern building adorned with the distinctive red and white checks of the Croatian flag. Luka's heart raced as he stepped out of the car, his small suitcase in hand.
Inside, the reception area was a hive of activity. Staff members hurried about, and Luka could hear familiar voices echoing down the hallways. As he approached the front desk, he spotted a group of players he had only ever seen on television.
Dominik Livaković, the national team's goalkeeper, was chatting animatedly with Borna Barišić. Nearby, Marcelo Brozović was engaged in what looked like an intense conversation with Andrej Kramarić.
Luka felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to find himself face to face with Ivan Perišić. The experienced winger smiled warmly.
"You must be Luka," Ivan said, extending his hand. "Welcome to the family."
Luka shook his hand, trying to keep his voice steady. "Thank you, it's an honor to be here."
"Come on," Ivan said, gesturing for Luka to follow him. "Let me introduce you to the rest of the guys."
The other players turned as Ivan and Luka approached. There was a moment of curious silence before Marcelo Brozović broke into a grin.
"So this is the wonder kid we've been hearing about," he said, clapping Luka on the shoulder. "Welcome aboard, kid."
One by one, the players introduced themselves, each offering words of encouragement. Luka felt overwhelmed by their warmth and acceptance.
As the introductions continued, Luka caught snippets of conversation about tactical preparations, upcoming opponents, and team dynamics. He tried to absorb everything, knowing that every bit of information could be crucial in the days to come.
Andrej Kramarić pulled Luka aside. "Listen, I know it can be overwhelming at first," he said quietly. "But remember, we're all here for the same reason – to represent Croatia. Just play your game, and you'll be fine."
Luka nodded gratefully, feeling some of his anxiety dissipate. As he looked around at his new teammates, a sense of belonging began to take root. For the first time in weeks, he didn't feel alone.
As the federation official began directing players to their rooms, Luka felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Zlatko Dalić, the national team manager, smiling warmly at him.
"Luka Zorić," Dalić said, his voice carrying a mix of authority and friendliness. "Welcome to the Croatian national team. I've been looking forward to meeting you."
Luka's heart raced as he shook the manager's hand. "Thank you, sir. It's an honor to be here."
Dalić nodded approvingly. "Your performances for Dortmund have been impressive. I'm excited to see what you can bring to our squad. Come, let me show you around."
As they walked through the corridors of the federation building, Dalić introduced Luka to various staff members. There was Marijan Kustić, the president of the Croatian Football Federation, who greeted Luka with enthusiasm.
"Young Zorić! We have high hopes for you," Kustić said, his handshake firm. "You're carrying the future of Croatian football on your shoulders."
Luka felt the weight of those words as they continued their tour. They met Ivica Olić, the assistant coach, whose eyes lit up when he saw Luka.
"Ah, the wonderkid!" Olić exclaimed. "I've watched your matches. That foot of yours... it reminds me of someone," he added with a wink.
Next, they encountered Marijo Strahonja, the goalkeeping coach, who joked about Luka making his job harder by scoring so many goals. The team doctors, physiotherapists, and kit managers all greeted Luka warmly, each emphasizing how glad they were to have him on board.
As they approached the meeting room, Dalić turned to Luka. "Remember, Luka, you're here because you've earned it. Don't be intimidated by the big names. You belong here."
Luka nodded, grateful for the encouragement. They entered the meeting room, where most of the squad had already gathered. Luka's eyes immediately sought out one player in particular - Luka Modrić.
The Real Madrid maestro was engaged in conversation with Mateo Kovačić, but as Luka entered, Modrić looked up and their eyes met. Modrić offered a warm smile and a nod, which sent a jolt of excitement through Luka. Here was another of his favorite players, acknowledging him as a peer.
The team meeting was a blur of tactical discussions, video analysis, and motivational speeches. Luka tried to absorb every detail, knowing that this was his chance to prove he could contribute at the highest level.
After the meeting, the squad made their way to the training ground. As they began their warm-up, Luka found himself next to Kovačić.
"So, young Luka," Kovačić said with a grin, "show us what you've got."
Feeling a surge of confidence, Luka began juggling the ball. He moved from foot to foot with ease, then transitioned to his knees, shoulders, and even his head. The other players started to take notice, forming a small circle around him.
Kovačić, impressed but competitive, joined in. The two engaged in an impromptu skills battle, each trying to outdo the other. Luka, drawing on muscle memory and instinct, pulled off a series of complex moves, including a rainbow flick that drew appreciative whistles from his teammates.
The highlight came when Luka, in a moment of pure instinct, flicked the ball over Kovačić's head and caught it on the back of his neck, balancing it there for a few seconds before letting it roll down his back and flicking it up with his heel. Kovačić, caught off guard, could only laugh and applaud.
"Okay, okay," Kovačić conceded, "you've got skills. But let's see how you do in a real match, eh?"
As the warm-up continued, Luka found himself near Modrić. The veteran midfielder smiled at him. "Impressive show there, Luka. But now, let's see how your passing is."
Modrić started a quick passing drill, and Luka fell into rhythm with him almost immediately. Their feet seemed to speak the same language, the ball zipping between them with precision and flair.
Then, Modrić upped the ante. He received a pass and, without looking, executed a perfect trivela - an outside-of-the-foot pass that curved beautifully to Luka's feet.
Not to be outdone, Luka returned the favor with his own trivela, the ball curling even more dramatically before landing softly at Modrić's feet.
The older Luka raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "Not bad, young one. Not bad at all."
As they continued passing, mixing in more and more complex techniques, a small crowd of teammates gathered to watch. The two Lukas seemed to be engaged in a friendly duel of skill and creativity, each trivela more audacious than the last.
Dalić, observing from the sideline, couldn't help but smile. It was clear that young Luka wasn't just talented - he had the potential to be truly special.
As the warm-up transitioned into more structured drills, Luka found himself integrating seamlessly with his new teammates. His vision and passing ability shone through, and he even managed to nutmeg Ivan Perišić during a small-sided game, earning playful jeers from the other players.
Throughout the session, Luka felt a mix of exhilaration and surrealism. Here he was, training alongside players he had idolized, holding his own and even impressing them. The lonely nights in his Dortmund apartment felt like a distant memory.
As the training session wound down, Modrić approached Luka again. "You've got something special, young Luka," he said, his tone serious but encouraging. "But talent is just the beginning. It's the hard work that will define you."
Luka nodded, hanging on every word. "I'm ready to work, to learn, to do whatever it takes," he replied earnestly.
Modrić smiled, patting him on the back. "That's what I like to hear. Stick close to me this camp, okay? I think we can learn a lot from each other."
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