Old Bridge diving is a characteristic of Mostar town.
Young people in the town often dive in the summer, but very few people dive during this season, mainly because the weather isn't hot enough and the Neretva River is turbulent and very cold.
This is not the best time to dive!
But for Suk, who is short of money, nothing is more dangerous than "poverty."
He needs enough money to ensure proper nutrition.
Before the tourists could react, Suk was already holding the iron pot and sweeping it around with a sweet smile on his face.
The tourists didn't feel disgusted when they saw the boy, who naturally gave off a sense of warmth. Most felt pity, and some were just curious.
Suk wandered through the crowd, constantly collecting marks.
Some people gave 5 marks, some gave 10 marks, and some young couples even gave more.
Suk happily ran around collecting the money. It's only fair to collect money for performing.
When he encountered tourists who were still unsure, Suk would emphasize again.
"Give me money!"
"Diving!"
Soon, Suk stopped in front of a young man. He looked around but didn't find the other person's parents.
The young man was wearing a hood, the zipper pulled up high enough to cover his mouth and nose, with only a pair of dark eyes visible.
Suk scratched his head, unwilling to give up, and repeated, "Give me money!"
"Diving!"
The young man remained silent.
Suk gestured as though diving again, pointed under the bridge, and emphasized his tone.
"Diving performance!"
The young man still didn't respond.
"Is this guy mute?" Suk muttered unhappily.
At that moment, the young man suddenly scolded, "You're the mute!"
Suk was stunned. The guy had spoken in Croatian.
Bosnia and Herzegovina, located in the Balkan Peninsula and bordering many countries, has a complex linguistic landscape. The most widely spoken languages are Bosnian, Serbian, and Croatian.
Suk didn't quite understand and asked, "Local?"
The young man fell silent again.
"Sick!" Suk muttered under his breath, bypassing the young man and continuing to collect money.
The young man looked at Suk but did not move. His bright eyes were filled with curiosity.
He wanted to know if the boy would really dive or if he was just trying to cheat money.
If it was the latter, he would have no hesitation in calling the police.
In his opinion, the latter was more likely.
After all, this season wasn't a good time to dive.
Soon, under the young man's watch, Suk gathered another batch of money. He folded it neatly and stuffed it into his pocket. Then he began to take off his clothes, leaving only a pair of triangular shorts.
Wearing only shorts, Suk had fair skin and clear ribs on both sides of his chest. With his big head, he looked like a child who hadn't grown yet.
He folded his clothes, found a spot with a dense crowd by the bridge, placed them there, and pointed to the tourists.
"Help me watch them."
The tourists smiled and made OK gestures.
At that moment, the young man was already full of surprise.
Was he really going to dive?
Before he could react, the atmosphere suddenly became lively.
Suk grabbed the iron railing with both hands and nimbly flipped himself onto the outer extension of the old bridge. He raised his hands and shouted to the tourists on both sides, "Follow my rhythm."
Then he began clapping slowly.
Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap!
The surrounding tourists also clapped along with smiles. They loved the atmosphere.
Under Suk's leadership, the clapping gradually became more synchronized and faster, like the rhythm of a drumbeat.
Some tourists even started shouting and cheering loudly.
Clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap clap!
Stop!
Suk, like the conductor of an orchestra, clenched his hands, and the surroundings became quiet.
Then, they saw the skinny boy take a deep breath. His toes pushed off the edge, and he soared into the air, performing a carp-leaping-over-the-dragon-gate posture, head down, feet up, and falling straight toward the icy river.
"Ah!!!!!"
"He jumped!!!!"
"Oh my God!!"
The bridge was full of exclamations, and everyone rushed toward the edge.
The hooded boy also moved quickly.
At this time of year, a single misstep could be fatal.
Thump!
Water splashed everywhere, and Suk vanished into the water.
A ripple appeared in the turbulent river, then disappeared, and so did Suk's figure.
"No way?"
"Where is he?"
"Should we call an ambulance?"
The crowd began to whisper, and the hooded boy kept turning his head, looking for him.
Just as everyone was confused, a rustling sound came from the shore.
They turned to look and saw Suk's figure emerging from the water.
The crowd let out a sigh of relief.
Under their gaze, Suk ran to the shore in a puff of smoke, made a bodybuilding pose toward the old bridge, opened his arms, and shouted loudly.
"Come on!!!!"
Instantly, the old bridge burst into fierce cheers and applause.
Hearing the applause, Suk laughed and gave a gentleman's salute toward the old bridge before hopping away.
"He jumped really well!"
"Wonderful performance!"
"Good job, boy!"
The tourists looked at Suk, who was jogging away, with admiration.
Some tourists, who didn't mind the hassle, took out more money and asked Suk to jump again.
But Suk smiled, grabbed his clothes, and turned to rush down the bridge, disappearing in a puff of smoke.
The old bridge was still buzzing with noise, and the hooded boy stared blankly at the alley where Suk had disappeared, his face full of emotion.
Although Suk had hidden it well, his body was still shivering from the cold. His lips were slightly blue, and he swayed as he ran.
This meant that the dive had taken a toll on his body.
Whether it was for money or not, Suk's courage to jump from the bridge had left an impression on the boy.
The boy silently lowered his head and turned away from the noisy crowd.
Following the stone path, he walked into a mountain trail. After several twists and turns, he arrived at a field with a sign that read, "Mostar Zrinjski Football Club."
The boy lowered his zipper and removed his hood.
With short, light brown hair, thin lips, a straight nose, and a slender face, he possessed the typical features of an Eastern European.
And this boy was none other than Luka Modrić, the Croatian football talent who had recently caused a sensation in Mostar.
At this point, Modrić wasn't yet the midfield maestro and Ballon d'Or winner he would later become.
His pale, thin face and gaunt frame made him seem fragile, almost like a child who could be blown away by the wind.
Walking along the dirt path inside the club, Modrić headed straight for the dormitory on the side.
Mostar Zrinjski Football Club had a decent reputation in the Bosnian and Herzegovinian league, but its financial situation and stadium facilities were outdated.
It was a long, two-story row building with faded walls. The white paint and gray concrete were mottled, adding to the sense of decay.
He passed through the entrance door in the middle and entered the dormitory building, where the corridors on both sides were dimly lit.
The first floor mostly housed equipment rooms, so he headed up the stairs to the second floor.
Modrić opened the door to the first room on the left.
It looked like a university dormitory, with bunk beds. The room contained three sets of bunks, but only the lower bunk near the window showed signs of being lived in.
The room was very clean, clearly maintained regularly.
Modrić hung his jacket on a hook on the wall.
Like many young people today, Modrić had many soccer star posters on the wall.
The most numerous was undoubtedly the current soccer heartthrob, "Alien Ronaldo."
Modrić stood in front of the wall, staring at the posters. No one knew what he was thinking.
After a while, Modrić picked up his toiletries and went to the adjacent washroom, turning on the faucet to wash himself.
Wiping his face with a cool towel, he felt a sense of comfort from the breeze after sweating.
But the cool sensation always made Modrić think about the boy who had dived from the old bridge.
How could a body that looked even younger than his own withstand such an impact?
And the courage that boy had to jump down.
Modrić looked down at the water flowing from the faucet. The spring weather was still chilly, and the well water was even colder.
He tentatively placed his arm under the faucet, letting the water run over it. He frowned slightly.
His arm felt cool but not unbearably cold.
Modrić then filled a basin with water and, suddenly, lifted it and poured it over his head.
Splash!
Hiss ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
With a long gasp, Modrić immediately felt his body tremble from the cold.
It was hard to imagine what it must feel like to be submerged in that river water.
"Is that guy out of his mind?" Modrić thought, shivering.
Then, looking at his reflection in the mirror, he added with a smirk:
"Out of his mind!"
After drying himself with a towel, Modrić returned to his room, sat at the desk by the window, took out paper and a pen, and began writing a letter.
"Dear Becić, this is my fourth week in Mostar. I miss my hometown and the people there, especially you."
"I was very sad about the changes in Zagreb. After you left, they quickly gave up on me. I understand what they want, so I didn't stay. I am your student, and I know you will return to Zagreb. Don't forget to pick me up when you come home!"
He paused for a moment, thought carefully, and continued:
"The Bosnian and Herzegovinian league is competitive, no—more like barbaric. This style greatly hinders my performance. To avoid confrontation, I have to run more. Fortunately, I've figured out some tricks. I hope you'll be proud of me."
"I don't know how long I'll stay here, but it won't be for long. As you once said, I am a genius, and I can do things that others can't."
"Of course, some idiots here don't understand me, and they keep questioning my passes. Their pig brains can only think about running forward, with no concept of teamwork or passing through defense."
Speaking of this, a trace of arrogance appeared on Modrić's face, but quickly turned into frustration.
"I have no friends here, and I don't want to make friends with these idiots. But I believe this is a trial from the 'Lord,' and I will complete it excellently, just like before. Though it might take a bit of courage to break some of my old habits."
For some reason, Modrić thought again about the boy who had jumped from the bridge.
He shook his head, scribbled out the last sentence, and said with a smirk: "They're the ones who need to change!"
After organizing his thoughts, Modrić summarized:
"The season is almost over. This season has been an adaptation period. Next season, I'll show them all how a genius plays football. And those fools who loaned me out? I'll slap them in the face!"
"That's enough for this week's report. Love, Luka!"
After writing the letter, Modrić folded it neatly, stuffed it into an envelope, and then lay down on the bed, preparing for a nap.