"An unparalleled mont! A precious equalizer!""Suker's last-minute powerful strike pierced through Russia's goal and shattered their dreams of victory!"
The entire Moscow Olympic Stadium saw Russian fans clutching their heads in despair.
Victory was within reach—now gone.
The disappointnt was heavy.
Even the Russian comntators sighed, "Croatia remained relentless in attack till the last mont. We failed to secure a win at ho.""But that's exactly what football is about—nothing is certain until the final whistle blows. Anything can happen!""For the Russian lads, they must now adjust and regroup. A draw ans nothing in the long run. The European Championship qualifiers are a marathon—ti to focus on the next match."
Suker's goal helped Croatia snatch a dramatic draw.
Right after Russia restarted play, the referee blew the final whistle.
UEFA Euro Qualifiers Group E, Round 1: Russia 2 - 2 Croatia.
Arshavin and Suker each scored twice.
At the final whistle, Croatia collectively exhaled in relief.
"That was a goal scraped from the jaws of defeat!" Mandzukic clutched his chest and sighed.
"Watch your mouth!"
Suker glared.
He'd worked hard for that goal, and now it was being described as "scraped back"?
"Call grandpa!"
Mandzukic pointed at Suker: "I passed you the ball! The scorer is the grandson!"
He took off running with his head in his hands as Suker chased him around the room.
"Suker!"Simunic approached with a smile: "How did that pass feel?"
Suker nodded and gave a thumbs-up.
"Excellent."
Simunic's passing precision was top-tier—it allowed Suker to break forward freely and ti his runs perfectly.
Simunic sat down beside him.
"I really think we can build more chemistry, both in the national team and… maybe at club level too."
He gave Suker a aningful look.
Though Simic also played for AC Milan, he was a fringe player.
Suker had a much more significant role and voice at the club.
Simunic didn't know how much sway Suker truly held, but he knew he'd need Suker's recomndation to get a transfer.
Hertha Berlin had been in talks with Milan for a while, but nothing had materialized.
And with the sumr transfer window nearing its end…
Simunic was getting anxious.
Suker understood what he was implying.
This guy had been buttering him up during the national team camp—he wanted to move to AC Milan.
It's common for players to recomnd friends or fellow countryn to their clubs.
And Suker had the ability to do it.
He could speak directly to Ancelotti or call the sporting director.
But—what was in it for him?
Suker blinked slowly at Simunic.
Simunic hesitated. He'd been in football long enough to understand Suker's look.
After a brief silence, he whispered:
"Club or country—I'll follow your lead."
Suker smiled.
"Wait for news. I can't promise anything."
Simunic was overjoyed, thanked him profusely, and left with noticeably lighter steps.
In fact, AC Milan was planning to bring in a center-back this season—especially a tall one.
Their aerial defense had always been a weak spot.
And with Stam gone—he'd left for the Netherlands right after a warm-up match—the center-back role was supposed to be passed on to Kaladze.
But Kaladze's form had fallen off a cliff.
After a few pre-season gas, Ancelotti was already losing confidence in him.
So yes, Milan was looking for defenders.
And yes, Simunic was one of the candidates.
But—he wasn't the only one.
Lyon's Cris and Roma's Chivu were also on the shortlist.
If Simunic wanted the Milan move, he definitely needed a push.
After the first round of Euro qualifiers wrapped up, the match was widely reported in European dia.
At such an early stage in the qualifiers, a ga this dramatic naturally caught everyone's attention.
Suker's two goals earned widespread praise.
Croatian dia didn't hold back in hyping up their superstar.
Suker had beco Croatia's most beloved and anticipated player.
Both goals—from the elegant slide finish to the last-minute equalizer—were heavily circulated by Croatian and Italian dia alike.
Suker's pre-season form seed as sharp as ever.
And because of his standout performances, expectations around Milan's upcoming season were rising.
It wasn't just Suker.
His popularity in Europe even brought attention to Russia's Arshavin.
The "Czar" of Russia, who was originally expected to make his na at the Euros, was now on European clubs' radars ahead of ti.
Who knows if Wenger would still get to him in ti?
After the ga, Suker and Simic flew straight to Milan for the new season.
There were three more Euro qualifiers ahead:
October 7: Croatia vs Andorra
October 11: Croatia vs England
November 15: Israel vs Croatia
Milan City—a young man in hip-hop attire and a backwards cap stepped off the plane.
"Ricardo, I'm glad you've joined AC Milan," said a man in a gray suit patiently. "But you must pay attention to the dressing room dynamics. Try to stick close to Cafu, Dida, and Kaka—your fellow countryn. It'll help you settle in."
"If conflict arises, take the initiative to apologize. It's not your turf. Italians won't tolerate your temper."
Ricardo Oliveira turned his cap around, smiled, and said, "Robert, you're overthinking it. I feel great. I've joined a giant. I'm going to prove myself!"
From a kid playing street ball in São Paulo to arriving in Milan, Oliveira believed in his talent.
Young Brazilian players all dread of becoming the next Kaka—and Oliveira was one of them.
The two drove through Milan toward the training base.
As they neared the complex, Oliveira noticed crowds of tourists and children.
Most were wearing Milan #10 or #99 shirts.
He could faintly hear them shouting "Suker."
Oliveira raised an eyebrow.
Unfazed—he was confident in his own ability.
By next year, they'd be wearing his shirt and shouting his na.
"We're here!" said his agent Robert. "Be serious when you et Ancelotti."
Oliveira nodded.
Ancelotti, fresh off a Champions League win, was now a massive figure in football.
Even Oliveira felt nervous.
Soon, he t Ancelotti—and Milan's legendary captain Paolo Maldini.
Oliveira was instantly starstruck.
Anyone would be. Maldini was a living legend.
Perhaps seeing his idol made Oliveira a bit more respectful and humble.
Maldini greeted him warmly: "No need to be nervous. I'll take you to the locker room."
Oliveira nodded quickly.
After final formalities, Maldini led him to the changing room.
They chatted on the way.
"dical done?"
"Yes—cleared!"
"Good. I'm looking forward to seeing what you can do at Milan."
"I'll give it my all!"
Maldini patted him on the shoulder and smiled, "No pressure—Milan's a welcoming family."
They entered the locker room.
Oliveira had imagined all sorts of things about Milan's changing room.
But…
Only five players were inside.
Kaka, Cafu, Nesta, Inzaghi, and Gattuso.
Gattuso stood leaning on a locker, arms crossed.
Nesta had a gloomy look and fire in his eyes.
Inzaghi was fiddling with his phone, swearing:"Bitch! Pick up the phone! Damn it! All bitches!"
Oliveira felt a chill up his spine.
He glanced nervously at Maldini.
Even Maldini was pulling a face.
With Suker and Pirlo—Milan's resident jokesters—absent, the atmosphere was terrible.
Maldini clapped his hands: "Everyone, heads up."
Each man looked up.
Gattuso looked murderous.
Nesta was ice-cold.
Inzaghi looked like a madman with ssy hair.
Maldini snapped: "Ivan, wipe that scowl off!"(Gattuso's Middle na)
Gattuso pouted: "I'm not!"
"Nesta—smile. Welco the new guy."
Nesta muttered, "Can't smile. Playing like shit lately."
"Filippo—"
"BITCH! BITCH! BITCH!"
"…Forget it."
Maldini sighed and looked at Oliveira, who was now frozen.
He forced a smile. "We are a welcoming family. Really."
Oliveira bowed his head in silence.
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