Chapter 87 - 1: My Name is Mario Mandzukic

Chapter 87: Chapter 1: My Name is Mario Mandzukic

The year 2003 was a special one.

Too many stories were brewing that year.

In Portugal, a Sporting Lisbon player named Cristiano Ronaldo transferred to Manchester United for ￡12.24 million, officially making Old Trafford Stadium his new home.

Porto won the Portuguese league title. The "Special One," Mourinho, bared his fangs for the first time, his ambition set on all of Europe.

In Catalonia, Spain, a talented player named Lionel Messi made his debut with the Barcelona first team, beginning his professional career.

The talented midfielder from La Masia, Seske Fabregas, joined Gunman Arsenal at the age of 16.

At Atletico Madrid, the ’Holy Infant’ Fernando Torres scored 13 goals in a single season, helping Atletico Madrid return to La Liga.

The Brazilian prodigy, Kaka, joined AC Milan for 8.5 million Euros, landing on the Apennine Peninsula to begin his Rossoneri journey.

It was also in this year that Suk and Modric began their journey to Zagreb.

...

"You’re all leaving!"

Inside the Mostar Zrinjski dormitory, Stelk watched as Suk and Modric packed their bags, getting ready to leave.

He felt a mix of disappointment and dejection, along with a faint sense of secret delight.

He was disappointed that the distance between him and his two friends was growing.

At the same time, he was secretly delighted that their departure would significantly reduce the pressure on him in the first team.

Stelk had already started transitioning to a winger, and Suk’s departure would surely open up a position for him.

Of course, the competition he faced was still incredibly fierce.

"Keep it up! See you in the Five Major Leagues!"

Suk smiled and shouldered his backpack.

Modric followed, pushing his suitcase.

Neither of them felt much attachment. Compared to Mostar, they were already looking forward to their future playing in Zagreb.

The three of them walked out of the dormitory together, where a car was already waiting at the entrance.

It was the same wine-red Santana. Van Stiake had come to see the two of them off personally.

Kosopech and the others had also come to the dormitory entrance to see them off.

"The Croatian League is a lot more intense than here. It might be hard to adjust at first, but I’m confident you can put on an outstanding performance."

Kosopech patted Suk’s shoulder, then turned to pat Modric’s and said, "You came from Dinamo Zagreb, so look after Suk over there. This guy’s too mischievous; he’s bound to cause trouble."

Modric immediately nodded. "I’ll keep an eye on Suk."

"Hey! Hey!" Suk protested. "If anything, I should be the one looking after him!"

Kosopech turned his head and said curtly, "Just focus on taking care of yourself!"

To Kosopech, Suk would always have that childish personality—endearing, but also prone to causing problems.

That was why he entrusted the more level-headed Modric to look after him.

"All right, that’s enough!"

After Kosopech finished, Mashovich and the others also said their goodbyes.

"Goodbye, Suk!"

"Goodbye, Modric!"

"I’ll be watching your matches!"

"Good luck!"

With their teammates’ encouragement, Suk and Modric got into Van Stiake’s car, and the three of them left together.

After arriving at the train station, Van Stiake looked at the two of them and said, "With your talent, I’m sure you’ll perform brilliantly at Dinamo Zagreb. This is as far as I go. It was an honor to have coached you."

Van Stiake hugged both Suk and Modric before turning around and driving away.

The two watched Van Stiake drive off into the distance before heading into the station.

"Aren’t you going to say goodbye to Oripé and the others?"

"Already did!" Suk said, waving his hand dismissively.

Modric nodded.

"Then let’s go into the station."

It was the same route as before, and the two were familiar with the journey.

First, they would take a train to Sarajevo, then transfer to another one heading to Zagreb.

Both of them were drowsy the whole way. After all, the season had just ended, and they were still quite exhausted.

WHOO~~~~~~~~~~!

The low whistle of the train woke them up.

Suk rubbed his eyes and saw the surrounding passengers starting to get off. He looked at the station sign and realized they had arrived in Zagreb.

"Wake up! We’re here! We’re here!"

Suk shook Modric awake.

Modric yawned as they shouldered their bags and walked out of the train station.

Just as they reached the exit, they saw the scout, Atgeni, waiting for them and holding up a sign.

"Over here! Here!"

Atgeni waved at Suk and Modric, and the two immediately walked over.

"Hello, Neil!"

Modric greeted him. He had met Atgeni many times and was on good terms with him.

"Good afternoon, Luka!"

Suk looked at Atgeni curiously.

The latter looked back at Suk and smiled. "Hello, Suk. My name is Neil Atgeni. I work as a scout for Dinamo Zagreb. I was the one who submitted your file. I watched you in Mostar for a full two months."

After a pause, Atgeni shrugged and said, "Of course, after your very first match, I knew you belonged at Dinamo Zagreb. Your performance was fantastic!"

Suk was immediately pleased.

"Thanks for believing in me!"

Atgeni said, "Let’s head to the club first."

The two nodded at once.

The Dinamo Zagreb training ground was in the suburbs, about five kilometers from the stadium.

It was called the suburbs, but it was more like a small town.

All the commercial facilities were fully equipped.

Malls, supermarkets, restaurants, hotels—it had everything.

As he drove, Atgeni explained the club’s situation.

"Because of the damage done by the Mostic brothers, the team barely avoided relegation last season. At the same time, we’ve made a lot of moves in the summer transfer window. Many players were sold, and we’ve also welcomed many new ones!"

Atgeni said, "That’s right! It’s a rebuild. Be?i? never even considered keeping the old lineup. He just tore it all down to start over!"

Hearing this, Suk’s eyes lit up. "So, can we choose our jersey numbers?"

"Of course! A lot of jersey numbers are available."

Just as Suk was about to shout, ’I want number 9!’, Atgeni added, "Except for number 9!"

Suk froze.

Modric, standing beside him, couldn’t help but chuckle.

Modric smiled. "Number 9 belongs to Karenovic!"

Karenovic, Dinamo Zagreb’s official number 9 striker.

Atgeni shook his head and sighed. "No! Karenovic was sold to Zagreb Railway!"

Modric was stunned for a moment.

"I remember he was still playing for Dinamo Zagreb the last time I was back."

"A winter window transfer! He was sold before Be?i? even took over. The contract was already signed!"

Modric sighed. "That’s terrible. He’s an excellent center-forward."

’To get Modric’s approval, this center-forward named Karenovic must be really good.’

"So who does number 9 belong to?"

Suk asked the crucial question.

Atgeni glanced at Suk in the rearview mirror and said, "Davor Suker!"

Suk: "!!!"

Modric: "!!!"

Davor Suker, the Croatian superstar, the leading figure of Croatia’s golden generation. He had played for several powerhouse clubs like Real Madrid and Arsenal and was acclaimed as the ’Golden Left Foot,’ whose left foot could ’play the violin’!

Just a moment ago, Suk had been fantasizing about the number 9 jersey, but upon hearing it was Davor Suker, he figured he wouldn’t be able to compete for it anytime soon.

"Besides Davor Suker, Jarni and Stimac have also joined us. Of course, there are also a lot of young players, around your age. You’ll meet them in a little while!"

As they spoke, the car arrived at the Dinamo Zagreb training ground.

At the entrance stood an archway bearing the Dinamo Zagreb club crest.

Fences stretched out on both sides, covered in dense foliage, giving it the feel of a manor entrance.

After driving through the entrance, there was a small roundabout with three diverging roads.

"The left leads to the first team’s training fields and dorms, the middle goes to the administrative building, and the right is for the youth academy."

Atgeni acted as a tour guide, speaking for Suk’s benefit, as Modric was already quite familiar with the place.

Taking the middle road, the three of them headed directly to the administrative building.

After parking, they arrived at the Head Coach’s office.

Be?i?’s office was simple. In a small space, there was a desk piled high with documents.

In the right corner sat an old-fashioned television and a DVD player, obviously for watching game tapes.

The office as a whole was quite tidy.

When the three of them walked in, Be?i? greeted them warmly.

"The team is still in the process of rebuilding, so a lot of things are still being figured out and adjusted. However, the training equipment has been updated, and you’re welcome to use it during the break."

After a pause, Be?i? asked, "Will you need to stay in the dorms?"

Modric shook his head. "My parents want me to live at home!"

Suk said, "I’ll need a dorm!"

The orphanage was too far, and living there would only add to the old director’s burden.

For him, living at the club was the most comfortable option.

’Of course, I could also rent an apartment, but I can’t bear to spend the money.’

"Alright, I’ll arrange a dorm for you right away. Report here tomorrow for your medical exams!"

Both of them nodded immediately.

Be?i? didn’t keep them much longer.

Suk and Modric left, led by Atgeni.

"Let’s go to the dorms first!"

The first team was short-staffed at the moment, so Atgeni was even taking on the role of team manager. After all, Be?i? had fired too many people right after he came on board.

His so-called rebuild was truly a complete and total one.

After picking up bedding, toiletries, and other daily necessities, they headed to the dorms.

The dorms at Dinamo Zagreb were a world of difference from the ones at Mostar Zrinjski.

It was a standalone two-story building, split into an upper and lower floor, able to house two people. Each floor was 60 square meters, which was quite nice for one person to live in.

And it was here that Suk met his first roommate at Dinamo Zagreb.

A young man with a short buzz cut, about 180 cm tall, with slightly dark skin but a very lean and strong build, walked over.

"Hello! My name is Mario Mandzukic!"