The summer of 2002 was scorching.
The sweltering weather, coupled with the global football extravaganza, made the summer feel even hotter.
In the town of Mostar, Suk yawned as he woke up at 3 PM.
Since the World Cup began, Suk's nightlife had also started.
Because this year's World Cup was co-hosted by Japan and South Korea, European fans had to deal with the time difference to watch the games.
Many had to stay up late, but this didn't dampen their enthusiasm — the tavern was bustling almost every night.
After half a month, the group stage of the World Cup concluded.
The 2002 group stage was full of ups and downs: excitement, upsets, darkness, and strange events coexisted.
The Brazilian team ushered in a super era, with the '3R' combination dominating the group stage:
Ronaldo, the 'Alien'
Rivaldo, the 'Viper'
Ronaldinho, the midfield magician rising in the top five leagues
This trio became the nightmare of all defenses, their exquisite coordination and powerful individual skills making every defender tremble.
Thanks to Brazil's outstanding performance, they easily advanced to the knockout stage.
So far, Brazil was the team that best lived up to pre-tournament expectations.
Another favorite, France, collapsed after Zidane's injury.
Players like Henry seemed to forget how to play.
Three games, one draw and two losses, saw them go from favorites to shocking elimination in the group stage.
The world felt sorry for France, believing they had an over-dependence on Zidane.
Without their midfield core, they forgot how to play overnight.
The England-Argentina match was the most explosive of the group stage.
However, the game wasn't as exciting as expected; Argentina lost bitterly and failed to advance.
The South Korean team became a hot topic worldwide.
With two wins and one draw, they advanced as group leaders.
But fans were more angry than amazed, accusing referees of blatant bias and South Korea of using dirty tactics.
European media heavily criticized South Korea, and Portugal's media — after their elimination — accused them of stealing victory.
But the result could not be changed.
During this time, Suk watched fans' moods shift from excitement to numbness.
Gamblers especially suffered, as the tournament defied conventional wisdom.
Around 4 PM, Suk arrived at Bakic's Tavern.
Bakic, the bald goalkeeper, had arrived an hour earlier, unloading food, drinks, and supplies from a truck.
The previous stock had been exhausted.
Alcohol sales during the World Cup were booming, needing restocking almost daily.
Barrels of alcohol were moved inside, and besides beer, the tavern also offered cocktails aimed at female fans.
"The TV seems to have a problem — go check it!" Bakic called out.
Suk nodded and went inside.
The tavern smelled strongly of alcohol; the floors were sticky.
He opened the windows to ventilate and climbed onto a load-bearing pillar to fix the TV.
Labor costs in Europe were high, so many learned hands-on skills.
Suk wasn't experienced in electrical repairs but knew the old trick: slap it.
The TV turned on but had no sound.
Suk straddled the beam, rolled up his sleeves, and slapped the side several times.
A crackling sound came from the TV — the sound returned.
"Done!"
Satisfied, Suk climbed down.
Seeing the movers busy, Suk realized he had time to kill.
The tavern would open at six, and the first match would start at 8:30 PM.
He went to the kitchen to find something to eat.
Milk was his regular source of nutrition now.
He poured a glass and drank it in one gulp, feeling satisfied.
Since his last growth spurt, Suk had entered puberty.
He had grown about 5 centimeters — still small at 155 cm, but there was hope.
Thinking this way made him happy.
He scavenged for food — leftover fried items from yesterday — and devoured them with rice.
While Suk ate, Bakic entered the kitchen.
"The alcohol's been refilled. Tonight..."
Bakic frowned at Suk's plate of cold fried food.
Sighing, he snatched the plate away.
"Kids don't grow tall eating this junk!"
He dumped the food into the trash, pulled out a steak, melted butter in a pan, and started cooking.
Suk stood there, swallowing his saliva as he watched the steak sizzle.
"You're a good guy!" Suk said.
Bakic, without turning around, replied:
"Deducted from your salary!"
Suk didn't mind — Bakic often said that, but rarely actually deducted anything.
Bakic had a sharp tongue but a kind heart.
He had hired underage Suk when he could have easily hired an adult.
Bakic handed Suk a plate of steak and rice.
"Eat, then get to work!"
Suk quickly nodded and shoveled food into his mouth.
After eating, he returned to the tavern.
The sky was darkening, lights flickered along the Neretva River, and the streets grew crowded.
Groups of fans chose their favorite taverns, and Bakic's was popular because of cheap alcohol.
Soon, the tavern grew lively.
Fans sat at tables, eyes glued to the TV, discussing predictions while drinking.
"Table 3, three black beers and one onion rings!"
"Here are your drinks, enjoy!"
"Coming! Coming!"
Suk weaved through the crowd with a tray, busy at work.
He wasn't a celebrity; to customers, he was just Bakic's relative helping out.
At one table, he delivered three black beers.
"Here are your beers and onion rings!" Suk said, smiling sweetly.
"I hope you have a wonderful evening!"
The customers were pleased.
One man handed him a 5 Mark tip.
Suk accepted it happily and smiled even brighter.
He worked hard to earn more tips, always keeping a bright smile.
Most tips were 1–3 Marks, and some gave nothing, but Suk stayed professional.
He also earned commission from selling alcohol, especially expensive cocktails.
In a corner of the tavern, a young man sat with a teenager.
The young man spoke passionately; the teenager listened quietly.
"Luka, your talent is unparalleled," said the man.
"You just haven't adapted to the Bosnian league.
Next season, I'll give you more opportunities, more tactical importance.
Together, we can create a glory HSK has never seen before!"