The electrifying atmosphere of the stadium continued.
The fierce match became even more intense.
"Kachalida spots a chance, passes to the wing, Elashint drives down the flank and crosses—Kalernovic heads it!! Ah~~~!! It's straight at the goalkeeper! The Dinamo Zagreb keeper catches it easily!"
"Dinamo Zagreb pushing forward again—it's young Suker. No dribble this time, he passes to Davor Suker. Davor Suker turns and shoots! The keeper saves!! But he spills it! Young Suker!! The rebound!! Oh!!! Simunic blocks it with his chest!!"
"Lokomotiva Zagreb's corner—Kachalida takes it. Kalernovic flicks the header on, the ball drops to Dabrović—Srna with a slide tackle!! Brilliant!! He clears it out of the box!! Dinamo Zagreb is on the counter!! They're so fast!!!"
ROAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The Dinamo Zagreb fans erupted in wild cheers.
Suker seized the ball and sprinted upfield.
His dribbling speed was blistering—faster even than Lokomotiva's defensive midfielder, Pirlvaroch.
"Šipetić!! Get in there!! Slow him down!!"
Hearing his teammates' shouts, Šipetić charged up nervously.
He closed in carefully, but Suker had no intention of slowing.
He booted the ball forward along the sideline, then exploded into a second gear of acceleration.
Let's race!
"Damn it!!"
Šipetić cursed, tried to shoulder Suker off toward the sideline—but he couldn't contain him.
Suker outran him from the outside lane using sheer pace.
"Suker! Suker! Unbelievable speed!!"
With rapid strides, Suker flew down the pitch, leaving Šipetić in the dust and stormed into the penalty area.
"Lokomotiva Zagreb is in danger!!"
The Lokomotiva fans were on edge.
They watched helplessly as Suker cut into the box.
"Simunic steps up—Davor Suker is open—will young Suker pass?"
All eyes on him, Suker lifted his left foot and slammed it toward the ball.
"He's confident!! He's going for it himself!"
BANG!!!
The ball rocketed toward the goal. The Lokomotiva keeper dove with all his strength and barely parried it.
"Butina with the save—but Davor Suker!!!"
Waiting by the goal, Davor Suker pounced on the spilled ball and lashed it into the net.
SWISH!!!
"Dinamo Zagreb!!! They've not only equalized—they've taken the lead, thanks to Davor Suker's rebound!!"
"Dinamo Zagreb has turned the game around!!!"
ROAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The 1,000+ Dinamo fans went wild.
Hands raised, they hugged and cheered!
From trailing to leading—it took only 20 minutes.
These guys were phenomenal!
"Great job, young Suker!!"
"Davor Suker!! Beautiful finish!!"
"Ohhhhh!!! We've taken the lead!! Hahaha!!"
"Crush Lokomotiva!!"
"Victory is ours!!!"
"Take the three away points!!"
"Show them what we've got!"
Dinamo fans were completely fired up.
Back-to-back goals had lit their passion like wildfire.
"Hey! You were right! Look how insane his performance is!! God! That kid has completely torn Lokomotiva's defense apart!!"
Assistant coach Kleiman was so excited he turned red, hugging coach Besic tightly.
Suker's performance was singlehandedly shaping the game.
Besic took deep breaths, his heart pounding too.
They were activated.
Dinamo Zagreb had been activated!
At least offensively—they were fully alive now!
Look!
They were playing beautifully!
Back on the pitch after the restart, Dinamo looked like a different team.
Suker no longer attacked from the wing—Lokomotiva had piled defenders on that side to stop his runs.
Seeing no space, Suker stopped hanging on the wing and dropped deeper.
"Luka!"
Suker moved into a gap and called for the ball.
Modric quickly rolled it to him with a little toe poke.
Suker sensed someone closing from behind.
With his back to goal, he flicked the ball with the outside of his right foot toward the wing.
It landed perfectly at Srna's feet.
"Damn it!"
Kachalida cursed and rushed Srna.
Seeing the trap closing, Srna slipped the ball through a gap into the half-space.
Suker had just arrived there.
With a pull-back and turn, he glanced toward the goal.
"Watch out! He's gonna shoot!"
Simunic shouted.
Keeper Butina tensed every muscle.
Lokomotiva's backline was parked at the top of the box, and Davor Suk and Valjevic were both tightly marked.
There were no clear passing options—but—
Suker nudged the ball across and whipped it with the outside of his right foot.
Simunic moved to block—then froze as the ball slid through a gap beside him.
Not a shot?
The ball arced around defender Dehak and Mitric on the opposite side.
It traced a huge curve along the ground—an insane ground-level spin pass!
Coach Besic's eyes widened, muttering: "That's what Jategenić was talking about!"
Even Modric looked stunned.
Though he'd seen it before, it always shocked him.
Davor Suker watched the ball curve away in disbelief.
He'd seen great passes—Beckham's curls were dazzling.
But this? This was a grounded curler!
"What the hell is this!!!!!!!!!!!——"
Commentator Klausevich's voice turned shrill.
Anyone who saw that pass would be stunned.
Even the crowd in the stands was momentarily speechless.
"Run!!! Duimovic!!!"
Suker roared.
Duimovic was already sprinting full-speed after the ball, utterly shaken—what a ridiculous pass!
He reached the ball and found himself one-on-one.
He stayed calm.
The keeper stood frozen, body stiff.
Duimovic seized the chance and slotted the ball into the far corner.
It bent past the keeper and hit the side netting.
Dinamo Zagreb scores again!
Lokomotiva Zagreb 1:3 Dinamo Zagreb.
In Lokomotiva's locker room, silence.
Heads down. No one spoke.
They started strong but conceded three in a row. It was a bitter pill to swallow.
And worst of all—that kid Suker.
"What are you looking at me for!?"
Šipetić suddenly exploded, pointing at Simunic: "I can't catch him! What do you want me to do!? I tried to foul him—I couldn't even reach him!!"
He felt wronged—he wanted to stop Suker, but just couldn't catch up.
Even fouling required getting close enough!
Suker's acceleration was too strong—he couldn't drag him down every time.
Seeing a fight brewing, Coach Istović stepped in.
"We made a lot of mistakes in the first half. But this isn't over. That kid Suker ran a lot—his pace will drop in the second half. When their attacks slow, we'll strike back!"
Still, the room stayed quiet.
Their confidence had taken a massive hit.
Kalernovic bent over, elbows on knees, towel over his head.
His eyes were full of disappointment.
At first, he felt the thrill of revenge.
But after conceding three and seeing those youngsters shine, he was shaken.
He'd wanted to prove that coach Besic's rebuild was a mistake—that the veterans should've stayed.
But he never imagined the kids would hit them so hard—and so beautifully.
Even he had to admit: Dinamo played brilliantly.
There were still some rough spots, but it was obvious—they had potential greater than any squad he'd known.
That realization hurt.
It crushed his confidence.
Back in Dinamo's locker room, Suker stood shirtless in the center.
"Did you see how pathetic their full-back was? I blew past him once—then again and scored."
He cocked his chin and waved his hand proudly.
"Taught him a lesson—with both forehand and backhand!"
Davor Suker and the others laughed—it was hard not to enjoy Suker's swagger.
He'd earned it.
Besic looked at him and asked, "Can you keep it up in the second half?"
Suker turned: "Do I look tired?"
Besic kicked him playfully on the butt.
"Getting cocky, huh?"
Suker rubbed his backside and grinned. "I can run! I haven't had enough yet!"
The room burst into laughter.
The locker room was filled with joy and camaraderie.