NOVEL WEB Chapter 15: Chapter 15 – Well Done, Modrić!
Chapter 15 – Well Done, Modrić!
"I'm going to make it in England!"
Back in Zagreb, when he decided to join Bayswater Chinese FC, Luka Modrić had already made up his mind.
This was his gamble—for his career, for his life.
At the work permit hearing in London, when Yang Cheng publicly called him a genius in front of everyone, Modrić had felt a kind of trust he had never experienced before.
And with that came gratitude.
Aside from one of his earliest youth coaches, no one, no club, had ever shown him that kind of belief.
In return, he gave everything he had at Bayswater Chinese FC.
During summer training camp, there was a long stretch where he cramped every single day.
Even though he'd been through it many times, just thinking back still made him wince.
American coach Seth Forsett told him that muscle spasms were a sign—his body was still young and gradually adjusting to high-level, high-intensity training.
The coaching staff gave him special stretching and strength programs to build muscle.
Even his diet and hydration routines were customized.
All of it was paying off.
As a professional, Modrić was keenly aware of his own body.
But even then, he had underestimated how brutal English football truly was.
In a preseason friendly against West Ham, his kneepad was pierced clean through by an opponent's studs.
Would it be better in official matches?
No.
In England, referees often let dangerous challenges go unpunished.
Especially if you were the away team.
They called it "passion" or "grit."
Players like Roy Keane and Patrick Vieira, notorious for their rough play, were icons of their respective clubs—revered by fans.
Modrić hadn't seen that coming.
But he wasn't afraid.
He was from the Balkans.
From the so-called "powder keg of Europe."
He had lived through war and understood one thing:
Fear and weakness are worthless.
Only strength mattered.
More strength.
Forsett and Oliver Bartlett created a whole new regimen just for him.
His agility and endurance were his strengths.
But his frame—small and slight—was a major weakness.
And in actual games, opponents quickly targeted that.
They would charge him the moment he received the ball.
It led to mistake after mistake—frustration mounting.
Following Yang Cheng's guidance, the fitness coaches designed drills to help him escape contact quickly, to avoid physical clashes.
Brian Kidd also gave him crucial advice.
If he wanted to survive in English football, every movement had to be faster, sharper, more decisive.
Modrić trained relentlessly.
And he could feel it—the coach trusted him.
Even though he never said it aloud, he held onto one thing deep inside.
"I'm going to succeed in England."
"I'm going to help Bayswater Chinese FC—help the coach—succeed."
He didn't know what others thought.
But for him, that belief was growing stronger.
The tougher things got, the more it burned inside him.
Today, when the team trailed Brighton 1–3, and Yang Cheng made a double substitution, Modrić felt it stronger than ever.
Jenkins and Capaldi were subbed off—both fullbacks had run themselves ragged.
Rickie Lambert and Lee Williamson came on.
Lambert—clearly going to play up front.
Williamson, who could operate both centrally and on the right, brought great mobility and defensive awareness.
He always gave it his all—and had solid passing, too.
According to Yang Cheng's latest instructions, Huddlestone dropped even deeper, and without fullbacks, the back line effectively turned into a back three.
This was the coach sending a message:
He didn't want to lose.
Even at 1–3, he was still thinking about scoring, about winning.
Midfield had to hold the line.
If the ball reached the defense again, it was over.
No retreat. All in.
Captain Martin Rowlands understood.
He dropped back alongside Williamson, forming a double pivot to hold the center.
Modrić shifted slightly to the right.
He kept scanning the field.
With no fullbacks, Ribéry on the left and Devaney on the right were isolated, relying solely on individual skill.
Yang Cheng was putting his faith in Ribéry.
And the Frenchman was the team's most dangerous player.
Especially when dribbling—no one could take the ball from him.
Brighton had adjusted accordingly, doubling up to contain Ribéry.
Lambert, though playing striker, often dropped deep to receive the ball.
His touch was good, and his strength and hold-up play helped support Ribéry.
Stead drifted over as well.
From the 73rd-minute third goal to the 80th, Bayswater focused their attacks almost exclusively on the left.
But Brighton's defense held firm.
Modrić hovered near the top right edge of the penalty area, watching, waiting.
And in the 81st minute, it happened.
Another attack from the left.
Ribéry crossed low from the byline.
The defender cleared it—ball flew high.
Lambert went up near the top of the box and nodded it back toward the penalty area.
Scramble. Chaos.
Stead missed the rebound. Another defender cleared it—hastily.
The ball looped toward the right edge of the penalty area—and no one was there.
No one… except Luka Modrić.
He didn't hesitate.
He darted forward, got there first, and controlled it with his right foot, knocking the ball to his left.
A defender lunged—but was too aggressive.
He quickly adjusted and tried to close down Modrić's left foot.
If Modrić's first touch was even slightly off, or if he panicked…
But he didn't.
His touch was perfect.
A light right-footed control.
A quick body adjustment.
Seeing the defender scrambling over, he flicked the ball back to the right with his left.
The defender was off balance—completely beaten.
The ball slid past him helplessly.
Modrić chased it down and smashed it with his right foot.
It all happened in a blink.
The shot flew like a rocket—so fast, no one could react.
Goal. 2–3!
In that instant, the 2,000 fans inside the stadium erupted.
Everyone stood up—roaring, clapping, cheering.
Even Modrić looked stunned.
But quickly, emotion overwhelmed him.
He turned, sprinted toward the west stand.
At the touchline, he leapt—a full backflip—then turned toward the sea of red in the stands and let out a mighty scream.
…
"That goal… that was magnificent!" Brian Kidd gasped.
He hadn't even seen it clearly, but his instincts—honed as a top-level pro—told him everything.
Yang Cheng was overjoyed.
Well done, Modrić!
That goal was huge for the team.
Even if they didn't win, that goal boosted morale—and that alone made it worth it.
"Sub. Get Andy Holdsworth in."
Rowlands had run himself into the ground.
…
Holdsworth came in, pairing with Williamson.
Yang Cheng pushed Modrić further forward.
He saw the Croatian was in excellent form.
Sure enough, with more freedom, Modrić's attacking threat blossomed.
Brighton, after conceding, began to retreat.
Their only goal now was to hold the 3–2 lead.
But Bayswater were flying.
Players and fans alike were buzzing with energy.
Ever since Modrić's goal, the 2,000 fans hadn't sat down.
They kept cheering, chanting players' names—often mispronouncing them.
But it didn't matter.
The whole stadium—players, coaches, supporters—was united.
Everyone wanted to win.
And when belief is shared like that, incredible things happen.
89th minute.
Modrić received the ball, evaded a challenge, and quickly passed—splitting defenders with a through ball to Ribéry on the left.
Ribéry didn't stop.
He took a touch forward, accelerated, shook off his marker, and squared the ball across the goalmouth.
Lambert and Stead both dove for it.
Lambert went for the near post, just a step behind—but it distracted the keeper and defenders.
Stead crashed into the net with the ball.
3–3!
Another explosion of cheers!
Yang Cheng couldn't contain himself.
He sprinted out of the technical area, fists raised.
On his way, he saw Brighton manager Steve Coppell, face etched with disappointment.
Despite his disciplined defense, solid team, and hard-working players, they'd still let it slip.
Jonathan Stead ran to the crowd, arms wide, basking in the adulation.
Four goals in five matches.
At only 20 years old, he was on fire.
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