Chapter 186: Cheer for Me!
The next day, Zagreb, Croatia.
As the sun set, the city streets became incredibly lively.
Especially the area near Maksimir Stadium, which was already flooded with a huge number of Dinamo Zagreb fans.
Among them were also some AC Milan fans dressed in their iconic red and black kits.
Of course, as the home team, Dinamo Zagreb's supporters were the overwhelming majority.
Their boys had fought valiantly throughout the Champions League so far, and the fans had witnessed every moment.
But now, they faced perhaps the toughest challenge yet.
Their opponents: the top contenders for this year's Champions League title.The most outstanding team in the competition so far—AC Milan.
In the group stage, AC Milan had a 4-1-1 record, finishing first in their group.
Across six matches, they had conceded only two goals, both of which came in an away match against Barcelona—thanks to the peak-form Ronaldinho's relentless dribbling.
In the knockout stage, they had cleanly defeated PSV Eindhoven over two legs.
PSV, one of the top teams in the Dutch Eredivisie, didn't manage a single goal against AC Milan's iron-clad defense.
In eight Champions League matches, AC Milan had conceded only two goals.
That's how formidable their back line was.
But Dinamo Zagreb wasn't to be underestimated either.
They had the most ferocious attacking firepower among all the teams in the tournament.
In 8 matches, they had scored 22 goals—an average of 2.75 per game.
True, they also conceded quite a few, but such relentless attacking power had carried them to victory again and again.
Several traditional powerhouses had been overwhelmed by Zagreb's offensive onslaught.
This match was the ultimate clash between the strongest spear and the toughest shield.
"This is the 2004/2005 UEFA Champions League quarter-final first leg, Dinamo Zagreb hosting AC Milan! Are you ready for this football feast?!"
WHOOOAAAAAAAAA——
As the stadium DJ's voice boomed, Maksimir Stadium erupted.
40,000 fans roared in unison, creating a wave of noise that shook the ground beneath them.
In the players' tunnel, both teams stood in neat formation.
Due to Štimac's ankle injury, Šimunić took the role of center back, and Srna wore the captain's armband.
Srna adjusted the armband tightly on his arm.
He glanced at Maldini standing beside him, feeling the heavy weight of responsibility on his shoulders.
"Captain!"
Suker called out from ahead.
Srna turned his head.
Suker grinned:
"Wanna give a shout?"
Srna took a deep breath and shouted:
"Srna!!"
Everyone yelled back in unison:
"Beast mode!!——"
"No pressure, no one expects much from you."
"Let Suker carry it, you just ride the wave!"
"Hahaha, DaJio looks scared stiff!"
Laughter broke out among the players.
Srna couldn't help but grin—his tension significantly eased by his teammates' teasing.
On the Milan side, their players also glanced toward the cheerful Croatian youths.
These laughing boys didn't seem burdened by any pressure.
Suker clapped his hands and shouted:
"Time to get serious!"
"SUKER!!!!!!!!!!——"
"Baddass!!!!!!!!!!——"
Another roar echoed through the tunnel.
The referee turned and shouted:
"Teams, get ready to enter the pitch!"
WHOOOAAAAAAAAA——
As the players marched out, Maksimir Stadium reached a fever pitch.
At the Milan bench, Coach Ancelotti looked at Dinamo Zagreb's young players stepping onto the pitch with determination.
These kids were already becoming hot commodities in the European transfer market.
Among them, Suker's market value had already surpassed €20 million.
His performance in the Champions League had been nothing short of spectacular.
All the European giants were already reaching for their checkbooks.
SUKER!!!!!!!SUKER!!!!!!!SUKER!!!!!!!
The entire stadium roared with his name.
It felt like the whole arena was vibrating with energy.
Dinamo Zagreb fans were showing the world—through their thunderous support on live TV:
Look!This is Suker of Croatia!
The 19-year-old superstar tearing through the Champions League.He belongs to Croatia.He belongs to Dinamo Zagreb!
As Suker emerged from the tunnel, the stadium announcer yelled with intensity:
"And finally, wearing number 9, from Dinamo Zagreb…"
The 40,000-strong crowd erupted once again:
SUKER!!!!!!!
Suker raised one fist in response, acknowledging the fans' love.
Meanwhile, in the Milan lineup, Kaka looked toward Suker:
"He's got quite the fan base."
Gattuso grinned wickedly:
"Jealous,?"
Kaka turned his head:
"Lame provocation."
Gattuso twisted his torso and gave Kaka a punch in the gut.
"Cheer the hell up!"
Kaka clutched his stomach with a wry smile:
"Can you find a better way to say that?"
Gattuso:
"Next time I'll use my foot."
Kaka:
"On second thought, hands are fine."
As players lined up for the ceremonial handshake, Kaka and Suker exchanged grips.
Then Gattuso landed another gut-punch on Kaka.
"Cheer up!"
Kaka gave a helpless smile.
Suker, watching this unfold, had a strange expression.
"This isn't the first time, is it…?"Kaka's groin must be cursed…
Suker's silence was louder than words.
Starting Lineups:
Dinamo Zagreb (4-3-3):
GK: Grestic
Defenders: Srna, Jarni, Šimunić, Pranjić
Midfielders: Vukojević, Rakitić, Modrić
Forwards: Valjevic, Mandžukić, Suker
AC Milan (4-3-1-2):
GK: Dida
Defenders: Cafu, Nesta, Stam, Maldini
Midfielders: Gattuso, Pirlo, Kaka, Ambrosini
Forwards: Shevchenko, Inzaghi
"The match is about to begin!"
On the Croatian commentary desk, commentator Klaušević rubbed his hands nervously.
Beside him, guest commentator Zvonimir Boban exhaled deeply:
"They must be wary of Milan's counterattack. Especially Kaka—he must be marked tightly. Don't let him build momentum."
When Kaka charges, the consequences are severe.
His Serie A style was to rush forward and make the final pass.
That's when Inzaghi or Shevchenko would make their run and finish it off.
As both watched, Dinamo Zagreb took the opening kickoff.
Suker and Mandžukić stood at midfield.
Suker's eyes locked on Inzaghi.
Inzaghi didn't look back.
For Suker, this moment was personal.
His football journey had begun because of Inzaghi.A single player card had brought him to this level.
Now, he stood face to face with the real deal.
Just like on TV—lean build, long flowing hair.
But on the pitch, Filippo Inzaghi was the deadliest ghost-striker.
"Are you ready?"
Suker whispered.
Beside him, Mandžukić took a breath:
"Ready."
"Then let's shake things up!"
Suker's voice brimmed with excitement.
WHISTLE!!
As the referee blew to start the match, Mandžukić passed the ball back, and Suker immediately surged forward.
Instead of pushing deep, he drifted toward the left flank to find space.
But soon, a figure appeared next to him.
"Hey, kid!"
Gattuso sneered as he closed in.
Suker tilted his head. He didn't understand what was said, but Gattuso's sinister grin was enough to give anyone a headache.
Suker tried dropping back a little—Gattuso followed.
He realized it was a tactic: AC Milan wanted to prevent him from participating in midfield build-up.
Fine, then he wouldn't drop.
Instead, he pushed along the flank until he met Cafu.
"Hello!"
Suker greeted in English. Cafu glanced at him silently.
Suker shrugged—no big deal.
Meanwhile, Dinamo's midfield began to rotate and probe.
AC Milan weren't pressing hard in their own half, so Modrić took the initiative and drove forward.
As soon as he entered Milan's half, Gattuso and Pirlo both charged.
"Suker!"
Modrić used the outside of his boot to flick the ball between them.
Suker, already moving toward the half-space, received the pass.
He didn't wait for the ball to come—he moved toward it and turned in stride.
Cafu held his ground, blocking Suker's inside path.
Suker feinted wide. Cafu didn't bite.
There wasn't enough room near the box for a full-speed run.
Then, Suker snapped into action—dragging the ball laterally and accelerating.
His explosive power earned him a slight edge.
"Nesta!"
Cafu called out.
Just as Suker picked up speed, a shadow appeared—he crashed right into Nesta.
The ball was cleared in that instant.
Pirlo took it and spun forward—passing to Kaka.
Kaka was off to the races!
"AC Milan counterattack!!"
The Italian commentator shouted with excitement.