Inside a guesthouse in Mostar.
After the match ended, Jategenić didn't leave right away.
Instead, he planned to stay in Mostar for a while longer—partly to keep an eye on Šuker and Modrić, and partly to continue his observation.
Of course, he also had to report back to his boss.
After taking a shower, Jategenić cracked open a bottle of cold beer.
Even though it was winter, nothing beat the refreshing feeling of a chilled beer after a hot shower—it cleared his mind and swept away all the fatigue.
Wearing only a bathrobe, he settled into the sofa and dialed a number on his classic candy-bar phone.
The call connected quickly.
"You don't usually call me—this must mean you've made a great find," Besić's voice laughed on the other end.
Jategenić was not one to make calls lightly—unless he had something truly interesting to report.
And to Jategenić, this trip to Mostar had turned out to be a huge and pleasant surprise.
"I owe you an apology for doubting your judgment before," Jategenić said with a chuckle. "Besides Modrić, you've now got another name on your list."
"Oh?"
Besić sounded intrigued.
Modrić had always been one of Besić's proudest discoveries among the young talents he had scouted over the years. Now, Jategenić was apparently comparing Šuker to Modrić.
"Was he that good?"
Besić couldn't help getting interested.
Even though he'd watched footage of Šuker's games, certain details could only be properly assessed in person. That was why he'd sent Jategenić to scout him.
"Fantastic," Jategenić said concisely. "He's exactly the type of player you like—running tirelessly throughout the match and commanding the field."
"He already meets the requirements for Dinamo Zagreb. Though, of course, not as a center forward."
Besić replied, "I wasn't planning to use him as a striker anyway."
"He played as a wide midfielder here. Let me share my impression."
Jategenić paused for a moment, then suddenly said, "You know how Bergkamp plays, right?"
"Bergkamp?" Besić was surprised.
As the undisputed core of Premier League giant Arsenal and known as the "Iceman," Bergkamp's abilities were widely regarded as elite.
"He plays like Bergkamp?"
"To be precise," Jategenić explained, "he's like a blend of Bergkamp and Zidane. That Dutch coach wants to implement total football, but clearly lacks clarity on Šuker's best role. He makes the kid do too much, wasting energy and making unnecessary runs."
"In my opinion, his best position is wide midfield, attacking midfield, or central midfield. He's a field general."
Besić said, "Modrić's passing is excellent, too."
"Absolutely. But Luka is more suited for organizing and setting the tempo. In this match, Šuker's passes had more penetrating force. He's also fast and actively tracks back. Honestly, I'm not exactly sure where he fits best—but wherever it is, he'll be a massive surprise."
"Is his passing really that good?"
Jategenić stretched out his hand and drew an exaggerated arc in the air. "Have you ever seen a 30-meter curved ground pass? From the left side of the field, through dense defense, landing perfectly in front of the right winger. It didn't connect this time, but that kind of vision and passing—if successful—would be a weapon to tear any defense apart!"
Besić couldn't fully imagine it, but from Jategenić's description, it sounded like a rare and powerful skill.
"So, you think we must sign him?"
"Absolutely!" Jategenić took a deep swig of his beer.
"I want to see him play at Maksimir Stadium!"
That answer said it all.
"I understand. I'll start working on the transfer as soon as I return," Besić said, trusting Jategenić's judgment implicitly.
"You're not at the club?" Jategenić was surprised.
"I had to come to Germany for something," Besić replied.
"Well, I'm not sure what could be so urgent—but best of luck."
Jategenić continued drinking.
"Thanks for the well wishes," Besić said with a smile. "You can head back to Zagreb and take a break now."
"No, no," Jategenić waved off the idea with a laugh. "I have no plans to go back. Watching football here is my vacation!"
Germany – Capital of Bavaria – Munich Airport, Exit Area
Besić wore a gray trench coat and sunglasses as he flagged down a taxi.
"Whatever you say, I'm off to work," he said as he ended the call and got in.
Speaking in English, he told the driver:"22-103 Grünwald!"
The taxi pulled away.
Grünwald is a wealthy district on the outskirts of Munich, about 7 kilometers from the city center. Known as the "Bavarian Hollywood," it's a prestigious neighborhood.
Besić had come to visit an old friend.
When the taxi arrived at the address, Besić stepped out.
All around were neatly lined row houses. The streets were spotless, and even in winter, patches of green gave the area a surprisingly warm look.
In front of him stood a four-story mansion, enclosed by a white picket fence.
Inside the fence were a well-maintained lawn and an outdoor pool.
Of course, no sane person would swim in this weather.
There was a doorbell at the gate.
Besić pressed it, and soon, a man in a bathrobe came jogging out of the house.
"Hey, Besić! My old friend!"
The man looked to be about 35, slicked-back hair,
This was Davor Šuker—Croatian football legend, who once wore the red-and-white checkered jersey and won the Golden Boot at the 1998 World Cup in France with six goals.
Still in his bathrobe and shivering in the cold, Šuker urged, "Come in, come in! It's freezing!"
The two of them entered the mansion together.
The interior was massive—an elegant and spacious living room unfolded before them.
With central heating from a fireplace, the inside was comfortably warm.
"Want a beer?"
Without waiting for a reply, Šuker went to the fridge and brought out two bottles of dark German beer.
"Germany is famous for its beer. They celebrate Bundesliga titles with it. We never had that chance—but we can still enjoy the taste."
He handed a bottle to Besić, sat down on the sofa, and asked, "So, why the special visit?"
Besić and Šuker had once been teammates at Dinamo Zagreb and remained close friends even after Šuker moved on to play in Europe.
While Šuker reached the heights of international football, Besić had a more modest playing career, never making it to Europe's top leagues. However, he'd proven himself as a manager at Dinamo Zagreb.
"This place isn't far from where you played for 1860 Munich," Besić noted, avoiding the main topic for now.
Šuker nodded, "Yeah, the area's nice. Besides, I'm retiring after this season."
He took a cigar from the table and offered it. "Want one? I had these brought from Brazil."
Besić glanced at the cigar and suddenly said, "Play one more year."
Šuker paused, then laughed and waved his hand. "Hey, buddy, I'm old. Since joining 1860 Munich in 2001, I've scored just three goals."
"Two seasons—three goals!" Šuker shook his head. "That tells me it's time to hang up my boots. I can't keep up with top-league pace anymore."
"I'm not talking about a top league," Besić said, taking the cigar from Šuker's hand and putting it back in the box. "I mean come back to Dinamo Zagreb. Play one more season, retire at Maksimir Stadium. That's the perfect ending."
Šuker looked at Besić and said, "You want me to teach someone football, don't you?"
Surprised, Besić asked, "How did you know?"
Šuker grinned, "Because you sound just like 'The Professor.' Only, you're more honest. When I was at Arsenal, Wenger never admitted he brought me in to mentor Henry."
"I'm tired of being a mentor—and I'm especially not teaching a Frenchman!"
Šuker still had a grudge over losing to France in the 1998 World Cup semifinal.
"This time it's not a Frenchman—it's a Croatian," Besić said seriously. "You have something no one else in Croatia does. You've played in elite leagues and know how to train properly. These are things we've never had."
"In 1998, we lost to France—but we played brilliantly. You need to pass on that experience, help us avoid the same mistakes, and take the next step."
He placed a folder on the table.
"Dinamo Zagreb is in a dire state. We're close to relegation. I'll stabilize things this season, but next season we need to do more—especially for the fans. You're a national hero, and the perfect man for the job."
"This folder contains what I believe is Dinamo's future—Croatia's future."
"In 1998, we fell in the semifinals. But I believe one day, the whole world will hear the final note of our rhapsody."
"Šuker, come back—for your unfinished business, and for our future!"
Besić's voice rang with conviction, leaving Šuker in a long, thoughtful silence.