Chapter 138: The Fiery Balkan Derby

May 13, 1990 — a major clash in the Yugoslav First League.

Dinamo Zagreb vs. Red Star Belgrade.

The match descended into chaos. Midway through the game, the stadium was overwhelmed by violent fans from both sides, swinging weapons and completely disrupting the match.

A fierce clash erupted between the fans!

Police forces intervened to quell the riot. During the chaos, Dinamo Zagreb player Zvonimir Boban kicked a policeman to stop him from beating a Croatian fan. Boban was later hailed as a Croatian national hero.

A year later, war erupted across the Balkan Peninsula.

The conflict lasted five years. Countless lives were lost, civilians were displaced, and eventually, Croatia declared independence, breaking away from the former Yugoslavia.

A football match became the spark that ignited a war.

Since then, Dinamo Zagreb and Red Star Belgrade avoided any direct encounters for over a decade.

This match has since been known as the "Fiery Balkan Derby."

Fourteen years passed quietly. And now, in a Champions League qualifying draw—

Dinamo Zagreb is drawn against Red Star Belgrade once more. A buried tension slowly begins to awaken.

In a corner of Dinamo Zagreb's training ground—

Zvonimir Boban is waving his arms dramatically, his face flushed with excitement. He passionately urges Suker and Modric:

"You must speak up! You are Croatians, and you are the most followed players at Dinamo Zagreb! You must confront Red Star head-on!"

Unlike usual, Boban's face carries an odd flush—he looks almost... thrilled.

Suker and Modric remain silent.

To them, they hate that war.

A war that left them displaced and starving as children.

Football should just be football.

It shouldn't be mixed with other agendas.

As Boban continues his incitement, the sound of urgent footsteps breaks in.

Zorančić rushes over, drenched in sweat. When he sees Boban cornering Suker and Modric, he explodes with anger.

"Stop your extremist rhetoric!"

Zorančić shouts.

He sprints over, standing protectively in front of Suker and Modric like a mother hen shielding her chicks. He glares at Boban, furious.

"You have no right to drag them into this!"

Boban shouts back, "They'll be heroes!"

"Bullshit heroes!" Zorančić roars. "Look at yourself—do you still look like a hero? Football has its own rules. Stop injecting it with ideology, you extremist nationalist!"

"If they speak up, all Croatians will support them!"

"Bullshit! Only you extremists support that!" Zorančić snarls. "That war took countless lives. These two survived that hell. That war left our country and people in ruins. And now you want to take more from them?!"

Zorančić's words boom like thunder.

"Don't impose your twisted nationalism on them! Now! Leave my players immediately!"

"I—"

Boban tries to speak.

Zorančić points to the exit, roaring, "Now! Get out!"

Boban stares at Zorančić. The latter doesn't flinch.

After a moment, Boban exhales and says, "They'll understand someday."

As Boban walks away, Zorančić yells after him, "Understand my ass! That guy's been corrupted by extremism. He's no longer the Croatian hero he once was."

Suker and Modric watch him leave and let out a long sigh.

"That was a pain," Suker mutters.

"A real pain," Zorančić agrees. "This damn draw is stirring up old issues. Some nationalist extremists are already getting active again. They want to use this match to fuel more division."

"In the coming days, don't speak publicly. Don't take any visible stance. Don't let those lunatics use you!"

The term "Fiery Balkan Derby" has come to carry deeply loaded meaning.

Especially lately, tensions between Croatia and Serbia have flared again. Fan clashes have become frequent — brawls and even riots in cities across the region.

Seeing how things were escalating, UEFA was growing extremely concerned.

The war hadn't ended that long ago.

Now the warning signs were returning.

But the draw had already been made and announced. Changing it now would be disastrous for UEFA's reputation and wouldn't solve the core issue.

So UEFA implemented several measures:

Tactics Room — Coach Bešić addresses the team:

"UEFA has released its directives. This match will be unlike any other."

No broadcasting — The game will not be televised. Only those in the stadium will witness it.

No away fans — Red Star's game will host only their fans. Ours will host only ours.

Neutral ground — Both legs will be held in Athens, Greece, at Nikos Goumas Stadium.

Given the rising violence among fans, these measures are designed to minimize the impact.

This Balkan Derby, returning after 14 years, carries a history so heavy, no one dares predict how it might unfold.

UEFA's actions are understandable—for both UEFA and the nations involved.

The war left deep scars. No one wants to revisit that nightmare.

But the region still harbors some who yearn for old divisions.

"Everyone rest well today. Tomorrow we head to Athens," Bešić concludes, dismissing the team.

Suker and the others rise and file out of the room.

"My heart's racing—feels like something bad is coming," one player mutters.

"Scared?"

"You're not?"

"I am! But we still have to play!"

Duimović and Vukojević bicker playfully.

Up front, Srna walks with Suker.

"We need to stay off media. Especially Duimović—he needs to shut his big mouth."

"Don't worry. I'll shut him up," Suker replies.

"The team feels… off."

"They're scared."

Suker shrugs, "This match was once the fuse of a war. Of course they're scared."

Srna glances at Suker.

"You're not scared?"

"I am," Suker admits, tightening his lips. "But after going through all that misery—living without food, shelter, or hope—even the dumbest person would be more careful."

"Relax," he pats Srna's shoulder. "It's just a match. Don't let it get to you."

Srna nods slowly, murmuring, "Let's hope so."

The next day, Dinamo Zagreb players board a train to Athens.

Unfortunately, Red Star players arrive at the station at the same time.

Since the upcoming match is technically Red Star's home leg, many Red Star fans — including extremists — had already arrived in Athens.

Dinamo Zagreb had to exit via an underground garage to avoid a confrontation.

"Unbelievable. Of all things, we had to arrive at the same time," Srna complains.

"Yeah, bad luck," Suker grins. "Let's just focus on the game."

Suker had observed Red Star players. They'd met in practice matches before, so not total strangers.

Some were new faces. Some familiar.

But all looked uneasy and silent.

Clearly, they were also deeply concerned about the upcoming match.

Suker found that reassuring.

If both sides subtly try to keep things calm, things shouldn't spiral out of control.

At the train station exit, Red Star players refused all interviews.

They didn't even acknowledge cheers from their fans.

Some extremist fans tried handing them a flag bearing the Yugoslav Army symbol — the Red Star players recoiled and ran off in fear.

It became clear:

Neither team wants to blow this out of proportion.

And so, under this subdued, cautious atmosphere, the long-suppressed Fiery Balkan Derby is about to begin once more.