Capítulo 2: Chapter 2
The Bosnian authorities, alert to the goings-on at the seaport, acted swiftly after receiving a tip-off and confirming their suspicions about Harun. Unbeknownst to Suker, the ramifications of these events were unfolding as he was being escorted out of the police station by his coach, Orlić .
Orlić was a robust man, tipping the scales at over 100 kilograms and standing at 175 centimeters. His substantial frame, clad in a loose blue tracksuit, seemed to stretch against the fabric. A whistle hung around his neck, a constant reminder of his role as head coach of the Mostar Wanderers, a team competing in Bosnia's second division.
"Do you realize what you've done?" Orlić exclaimed, gripping Suker's arm and steering him into a quiet corner of the street. "You promised me!"
Suker hung his head, looking like a child caught in a moment of mischief, remaining silent. This only served to escalate Orlić 's frustration.
"Speak up! Do you think I still believe you?" Orlić fumed, his voice echoing in the cool air. "The police have issued a warning. If there's another incident like this, you'll be sent back to Croatia! If you want to keep playing here, you better shape up."
Suker nodded vigorously, his youthful innocence casting a spell of sympathy on Orlić . Deep down, Orlić felt a pang of compassion for the teenager who was chasing his football dreams in a foreign land.
With a heavy sigh, Orlić led Suker to a small van, hopping into the driver's seat. "Today is match day," he said simply.
Suker looked up, surprise flashing across his face. "But there's no match today!"
"The schedule changed," Orlić replied nonchalantly.
Suker nodded, accustomed to the unpredictable nature of Bosnia's second division, where match schedules often shifted due to the financial struggles of many clubs. To support their meager salaries, numerous players, including Suker, often juggled jobs alongside their training.
For most players, the motivation to continue playing stemmed from a singular goal: to escape the second division and ascend to the Bosnian Premier League or secure a transfer to a better team. This was the only pathway for those who persevered.
Some, like Kovic, had given up on this dream, realizing they could not make a living playing football. While top-tier European players basked in riches and fame, those in the lower divisions struggled to make ends meet. Football here represented two extremes. Only a select few could navigate the narrow path to the top, tasting the true joy of professional football.
As the van sped along the asphalt road, Orlić fished a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and tossed it to Suker. "Your guardian's application has been approved. Sakovic won't be bothering you anymore."
Suker's eyes lit up with excitement. "Approved?"
Seeing the joy on Suker's face, Orlić chuckled. "Yes, approved! Now you better score some goals under my watch. Maybe you can transfer to a Premier League team next."
Suker unfolded the paper, confirming its contents. "We'll make it to the Premier League together!" he declared with newfound confidence.
Orlić smiled but remained silent, acutely aware of the challenges that lay ahead. "Don't you want to go back to Croatia?" he asked, curiosity lacing his voice.
Suker shrugged. "I don't want to go back to being a priest."
Orlić nodded, understanding Suker's reluctance to return to his past. This situation was deeply intertwined with Suker's background. Once a child from an orphanage in Croatia, he had been discovered by Sakovic during a church football event. Sakovic, a youth coach in Bosnia, had recognized Suker's talent and sought to nurture it.
After some persuasion, Sakovic became Suker's guardian, bringing him to Bosnia for training. The journey had been relatively smooth until one significant hurdle: Suker's physical growth.
At 14, Suker had been just 150 centimeters tall. Now, at 16, he had grown to 170 centimeters, giving him a newfound advantage on the pitch. This growth spurt transformed his game, allowing him to compete more effectively against taller players.
Despite his agility and skill, Suker's previous lack of height had labeled him inadequate within the youth system. Eventually, Sakovic deemed him unfit for continued training and prepared to send him back to Croatia. However, Suker, defiant and determined, chose to escape and join the Mostar Wanderers. After a period of adjustment, he proved himself on the field, leading to a transition in guardianship between Orlić and Sakovic, who was relieved to rid himself of the perceived burden.
Suker had not disappointed Orlić 's expectations, scoring nine goals the previous season and leading the scoring charts with eight goals in eleven matches this season. It was remarkable that this once undersized boy could shine in a league known for its physicality.
The van turned off the main road onto a bumpy path leading into the mountains. The vehicle jostled over uneven terrain, making the ride uncomfortable yet exhilarating. Before long, a simple archway came into view. Two slender poles supported a banner that read "Welcome to the Mostar Wanderers" in Croatian.
Indeed, the Mostar Wanderers were a team that rallied Croatian players together. As they drove through the makeshift arch, Suker spotted a small field enclosed by waist-high fences. However, it was more of a pasture than a proper football pitch.
The grass was in terrible condition, interspersed with patches of brown dirt that had a sticky texture. The goal nets were tattered, with holes tied up with makeshift knots, giving the overall scene a rugged appearance. Nearby, a herd of cows grazed, their breaths mingling with the earthy scents of grass and manure.
For many visiting teams, this environment could be disconcerting, but for the Mostar Wanderers, it was their perfect home ground. Familiarity with the pitch allowed them to exploit its quirks—knowing where the dips were, where the grass was patchy, and how to pass the ball to control its speed.
Upon arriving at the field, Orlić and Suker found a crowd already gathering. The Bosnian second division did not attract large audiences, and even matches in the Premier League sometimes struggled to fill seats. Yet today, nearly 150 fans had come out to support the Mostar Wanderers, and when including local spectators, the number exceeded 200.
While the Mostar Wanderers might be a second-division team, their fanbase was arguably the most passionate in the league. Suker was uncertain of the reason behind this fervor, but it was a fact that their matches consistently drew crowds. Tickets were affordable at 30 marks, and fans often bypassed the ticket booth entirely. Yet, supporters willingly slipped money to Orlić , showcasing their loyalty.
As Orlić collected the money, a group of players from the Mostar Wanderers, including Suker, gathered. Sitting on the ground, he donned his red and black striped jersey with the number 11 and his name, Suker, written on top of it.
To be honest, Suker disliked this jersey. The horizontal stripes made him feel like he was wearing a prison uniform. However, as the home kit, he had no choice but to wear it. After changing, Suker pulled out his worn-out football boots from the van. The shoes were battered, with peeling leather and several holes, but they still served their purpose.
Finally, he slipped on his shin guards, tapping them into place with care. In the Bosnian league, shin guards were essential protection. Even a top player like Grealish would wear them; otherwise, his stylish calves would be at risk.
Fully geared, Suker started greeting his teammates. "Hey, captain, pass me the ball more today!" he shouted at a man wearing the number 10 jersey. This man, Ivan Mlinar, was the team captain, approximately 35 years old and the oldest player on the squad.
Mlinar was not only known for his exceptional carpentry skills but also for his outstanding football prowess. As the creative core of the Mostar Wanderers, he often assisted Suker in scoring goals. "Don't worry; I'll make sure you get your chances," Mlinar replied with a grin, always supportive of his young teammate.
After chatting with the captain, Suker turned to another player. "Bakic, try not to let in too many goals today. Don't make it harder for me!"
Bakic, the team's goalkeeper, was infamous for his tendency to fumble the ball. According to Orlić , all opponents needed to do was shoot, and Bakic would somehow find a way to concede. After Suker's teasing, Bakic—a balding young man—leaped up, pretending to be offended. Suker deftly dodged his playful advance, spinning around and leaving Bakic on the ground in mock defeat. The surrounding players erupted in laughter.
As the Mostar Wanderers engaged with their teammates, their opponents, Sarajevo FC, observed from the other side of the field. Though the name "Sarajevo FC" sounded imposing, they were just another average team in the second division, facing circumstances similar to the Mostar Wanderers but enjoying slightly better treatment due to their capital city status.
With both teams finishing their preparations, they gathered to discuss tactics amid the cheers of their fans. The atmosphere was charged with energy, and Suker felt a familiar rush of excitement. Today was not just another game; it was a chance to prove himself, to show that he had grown into a formidable player ready to leave his mark on the pitch once more.
Status de energia semanal
-- Ranking de
Poder 
-- Pedra de
Poder