章 33: W
The Manchester United boardroom buzzed with tension as key figures gathered to address the Luka Zorić situation. Rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the turbulent atmosphere inside. Joel Glazer sat at the head of the table, his face etched with concern. Ed Woodward fidgeted with his pen, while Ole Gunnar Solskjær's expression was one of barely contained frustration.
Joel opened the meeting, his tone serious. "Gentlemen, we need to discuss Luka Zorić. Ed, give us an update."
Ed cleared his throat. "Right. Luka's performance at Dortmund has been exceptional. Eleven goals and thirteen assists in fourteen games. His contract with us is expiring, and Dortmund has a £2 million option to buy. If they don't exercise it, he walks for free."
Richard Arnold frowned. "That's a potential massive loss on our books. What's Mendes asking for to bring him back?"
Ed winced. "Mendes is being... difficult. He's not giving specific numbers, but he's hinting at wages on par with our top earners. We're talking potentially £250,000 to £300,000 a week."
Joel's eyes widened. "For a 17-year-old? That's absurd. We can't set that kind of precedent."
Ole leaned forward, his voice tense. "With all due respect, we're not talking about just any 17-year-old. Luka is a generational talent. I saw it months ago when I wanted him in the first team, but the board decided to loan him out without consulting me."
Joel held up a hand. "We've been over this, Ole. The board felt investing in established stars was the better strategy at the time."
"And how's that working out for us?" Ole retorted.
John Murtough intervened. "Let's focus on the present. How does Luka fit into our current squad? We've got Rashford on the left wing, Sancho on the right, Ronaldo up front..."
Ole jumped in. "Luka's not just a left-winger. He's versatile. He could play across the front line, even as a number 10. Having him would push everyone to be better."
Richard nodded thoughtfully. "Okay, but what about shirt numbers? All the low numbers are taken. We can't offer him anything prestigious."
"We could offer him 28," Ed suggested. "It's got a bit of history with the club."
Ole shook his head. "We should be focused on playing time and development right now, not shirt numbers."
Joel leaned back, looking skeptical. "All this for a player who might not even start regularly? We're already stretched thin financially. We've got the Sancho deal to pay off, Ronaldo's wages, and we're still looking at other targets like Declan Rice."
Ed nodded. "Our wage bill is already the highest in the Premier League. Adding another high earner could put us in a difficult position with Financial Fair Play regulations."
Ole's frustration was palpable. "We're talking about potentially losing the next Cristiano Ronaldo over money? We'll make that back tenfold if Luka reaches his potential here."
Joel sighed. "It's not just about the money, Ole. It's about squad balance, wage structure, long-term planning. We can't just throw all that out the window for one player, no matter how talented."
"Then what's your solution?" Ole demanded. "Watch him become a superstar at Dortmund or worse, see him end up at City or Liverpool?"
The room fell silent as the gravity of the situation sank in.
Richard spoke up. "What if we offer a low base salary with substantial performance-based bonuses? It could protect us financially while still giving Luka the opportunity to earn top wages if he performs."
Ed nodded slowly. "That could work. We could also include a significant sell-on clause to protect our investment if he does move on in the future."
Joel considered this. "It's a start, but we need more. Ole, I want a detailed plan for Luka's integration into the first team. How will you manage his development alongside our established stars?"
Ole nodded, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "I'll have it on your desk by tomorrow."
Joel turned to Ed. "And you, reach out to Mendes. Float the idea of a performance-based contract."
Ed nodded slowly. "Alright. But we need to move fast. Nike and Adidas are already circling with massive boot deals. We need to get this done before his value rises even more."
"What about a personal touch?" Richard suggested. "Maybe we could get some of our legends involved. Have Ronaldo or Ferdinand reach out to him, player to player?"
Ed shook his head. "Too risky. If Mendes finds out, we're done."
<>
The roar of the crowd washed over Luka as he emerged from the tunnel. The Tehelné pole stadium in Bratislava was alive with energy, a sea of red and white Croatian flags waving in the stands. As he stepped onto the lush green pitch, Luka felt a surge of pride looking down at the checkered jersey hugging his chest.
Luka took a deep breath, soaking in the moment as the familiar notes of "Lijepa naša domovino" filled the air.
The referee's whistle pierced through the atmosphere, signaling the start of the match. Immediately, Slovakia pressed high, their players swarming the Croatian midfield. Luka's eyes darted across the pitch, constantly scanning for space and movement.
In the 10th minute, an opportunity presented itself. Modrić, under pressure from two Slovak midfielders, spotted Luka's run and threaded a perfect pass through the narrowest of gaps. Luka's first touch was immaculate, the ball sticking to his foot as if magnetized. He glided past one defender, then another, his body swaying.
The goal seemed to open up before him, but as he pulled the trigger, his shot lacked the necessary power. The Slovak goalkeeper, Dúbravka, made a comfortable save. Luka grimaced, frustrated at the missed opportunity.
Minutes later, another chance. This time, Luka received the ball on the left wing. He feinted to go outside, then quickly cut inside, leaving his marker wrong-footed. His right-footed curler seemed destined for the top corner, but it whistled agonizingly wide.
In the 30th minute, Croatia finally broke the deadlock. Kramarić, lurking at the far post, met Perišić's cross with a thumping header. The net bulged, and the Croatian bench erupted in celebration. Luka rushed to join the huddle, his face beaming with joy.
However, Slovakia wasn't ready to roll over. In the 42nd minute, a quick counter-attack caught the Croatian defense off guard. Hamšík, the Slovak captain, split the center-backs with a sublime through ball. Duda latched onto it, coolly slotting past Livaković. 1-1.
Just before halftime, disaster struck. A Slovak corner caused chaos in the Croatian box. Amid the scramble, Škriniar rose highest, powering a header into the roof of the net. The home crowd went wild as Slovakia took a 2-1 lead into the break.
In the dressing room, Dalić's voice cut through the disappointed murmurs. "We're better than this," he insisted. "Luka, I want you making those runs in behind. Modrić, find him."
And that he did. In the 55th minute, Modrić, orchestrating play from deep, spotted Luka's clever run. The ball soared over the Slovak defense, and Luka, without letting it drop, extended his right foot. With exquisite technique, he poked the ball over the onrushing Dúbravka. The net rippled, and Luka wheeled away in celebration.
He ran straight to Modrić, throwing his arms around the captain. "Thank you, thank you!" he shouted over the roar of the traveling Croatian supporters. Modrić grinned, ruffling Luka's hair. "That's what you're here for!"
The game ebbed and flowed, with both teams creating chances. At one point, Luka felt a sharp pain as a Slovak defender stamped on his foot while challenging for a header. The referee waved play on, thankfully it wasn't his recently injured ankle, so he gritted his teeth and pushed through the discomfort.
As the clock ticked into the 85th minute, Luka received the ball on the left wing once again. He was tired, his legs heavy, but his mind remained sharp. A quick glance over his shoulder revealed Perišić making a run towards the edge of the box.
Luka set off, his feet a blur as he dribbled past one defender, then another. A third Slovak player lunged in, but Luka simply paused for a split second, letting the ball roll past the outstretched leg before accelerating again. He approached the box, shaping to shoot. The last defender bought the feint, going to ground in an attempt to block.
In that moment, Luka's peripheral vision caught Perišić's continued run. Without looking, he backheeled the ball, perfectly into the path of the onrushing winger. Perišić, first-time, slotted the ball past Dúbravka. 3-2 to Croatia!
The stadium erupted, the Croatian bench spilling onto the pitch in jubilation. Luka found himself at the bottom of a pile of ecstatic teammates, their joy uncontained. As they disentangled themselves, Perišić grabbed Luka by the shoulders. "Incredible vision, kid! What a pass!"
The final whistle blew minutes later, confirming Croatia's victory.
As the euphoria of the victory began to settle, Luka found himself being ushered towards a waiting reporter, Modrić at his side. The bright lights of the camera momentarily blinded him as the interviewer, a woman with a warm smile, began to speak.
"Luka Modrić, Luka Zorić, congratulations on a fantastic win. Luka Modrić, we'll start with you. What are your thoughts on tonight's performance, especially young Luka here?"
Modrić responded with a broad smile. "Thank you. It was a tough match, but we showed great character to come back and win. As for the other Luka here," he placed a hand on Zorić's shoulder, "I've been in football a long time, and I can honestly say I've never seen a player so young with such incredible talent. His vision, his technique – it's extraordinary."
The reporter nodded, clearly impressed. "And what do you think Croatia can achieve with this mix of experience and youth?"
"With the team we have," Modrić continued, "we can achieve great things. We have a perfect blend of experience and young talent. If we continue to work hard and play as a unit, I believe we can compete with anyone in the world."
As Modrić stepped away, the reporter turned her attention to Luka. "Luka Zorić, what an incredible start to your international career. Six goals and four assists in just four World Cup qualifiers. How do you explain this incredible form?"
Luka, caught off guard by the directness of the question, stumbled slightly. "Uh, well... it's hard work, really. The team has been fantastic, and I'm just trying to do my part."
The reporter, sensing his discomfort, pressed on. "Any secrets to your success?"
Luka took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. "To be honest, it's quite natural for me. When I see space open up, I make myself available. Sometimes that means dribbling past a few players, other times it's about taking a shot from distance."
"Speaking of long shots," the reporter interjected, "your conversion rate from outside the box is remarkably high. Are you aware of this statistic?"
Luka nodded, a hint of pride creeping into his voice. "Yes, I try to be selective with my shots, which probably contributes to the high conversion rate."
"So why not take more long-range efforts if you're so effective?"
Luka paused, considering the question. "You know, that's a good point. Maybe I should be more aggressive in that aspect. It's something I'll definitely think about."
The reporter smiled, clearly pleased with the candid response. "How are you finding life with the Croatian national team? It must be quite different from club football."
"It's been incredible," Luka replied, his eyes lighting up. "The atmosphere, the passion – it's unlike anything I've experienced before. Playing alongside legends like Modrić and Perišić, it's a dream come true."
"And what about the upcoming World Cup? How do you rate Croatia's chances?"
Luka's response was immediate and confident. "We can do more than just well. I truly believe we have a World Cup-winning level squad. The talent and determination in this team are second to none."
The reporter's eyebrows raised slightly. "That's a bold statement. You really believe Croatia can go all the way?"
"Absolutely," Luka affirmed. "The senior players have been there before, reaching the final in 2018. And now I think we're even stronger."
"Now in regards to your club career," the reporter segued, "there are rumors circulating about a potential return to Manchester United in the January window. Any truth to these speculations?"
Luka couldn't help but chuckle. "There has been no decision on anything to do with my club contract situation. Right now, I'm focused on playing for Dortmund and Croatia. Whatever happens in the future, we'll see."
"Fair enough," the reporter nodded. "Let's talk about the records you've broken. You're now the youngest player to score in four consecutive World Cup qualifiers for Croatia. How does that feel?"
Luka's eyes widened slightly, as if he hadn't fully processed this achievement. "Wow, I wasn't even aware of that record. It's an honor, truly, but records are meant to be broken and I'm sure another person will come along and do the same."
"Your humility is admirable," the reporter commented. "But surely you must feel some pride in your achievements?"
Luka nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Of course, I'm proud. But there's still so much I want to achieve in my career."
"And what about the pressure? Does it affect you, being hailed as the next big thing in football?"
Luka took a moment before responding. "It does at times but I try not to focus on the expectations of others. My goal is simply to be the best version of myself, to help my team in any way I can. Sometimes I'm a bit hard on myself… but I think its good to not settle."
"One last question, Luka. You've played with some incredible talents at both club and international level. Who would you say has influenced your game the most?"
Luka's face lit up. "That's a tough one. At Dortmund, I've learned so much from players like Marco Reus and Mats Hummels. Their professionalism and dedication are inspiring. And of course, here with Croatia, playing alongside Modrić is like a masterclass in midfield play. But if I had to choose one player who's influenced me the most, it would probably be Modrić. I haven't been around him as much as the others but, wow, his vision, his technique, his leadership – he's the complete package. I'm just trying to absorb as much as I can from him."
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