In 1995, Ajax were crowned Champions League winners.
With the implementation of the Bosman ruling, the landscape of European football was drastically reshaped.
From that moment on, the Big Five Leagues—or more accurately, the Big Four—monopolized the Champions League. Official source is novel_fіre.net
In the 1999/2000 season, for the first time in Champions League history, not a single team outside of the top five leagues reached the semifinals. Since then, at most one non-Big Five team has made the final four each season. Even the once-glorious Portuguese league was reduced to being a mere "talent supermarket."
In the context of growing disparity between rich and poor, any underdog's rise became increasingly rare and precious.
Then came the 2003/04 season, a moment of upheaval.
The traditional aristocrats stumbled one after another, and none of the semifinalists were top-tier giants.
José Mourinho led his Porto side with solid defense to kick Lyon out of the Champions League.
Deportivo La Coruña pulled off a miracle—after losing 1-4 away to AC Milan, they smashed in four goals at home to eliminate the defending champions. Europe turned its gaze to Spain, chanting: "Super Depor!"
In an all-English clash, Arsenal, unbeaten in the league, fell to Chelsea in the Champions League.
Monaco knocked out the Galácticos, stepping proudly into the semifinals.
It was tragedy for the giants—and ecstasy for the underdogs!
And from Portugal, the roar of a madman echoed across Europe:
"Is this still the Champions League?!"
Holding a newspaper, Srna stood dumbfounded.
Looking at the names of the semifinalists—not one was a traditional powerhouse!
The red and black kings were stopped in the quarterfinals!
The Galácticos crashed in France!
The Gunners ran into a blue wall!
The French powerhouses lost their way in Portugal!
Srna's generation had grown up watching these superclubs dominate Europe.
But now? Not a single superclub remained in the final four.
It was a once-in-a-decade anomaly.
"Enjoy it while it lasts," Suker said offhandedly.
There could still be the occasional miracle from small clubs today.
But in the future, as the gap between elite and modest teams continues to widen, even dreaming of this would be impossible.
Srna blinked: "You mean—"
Modrić turned around: "Impossible!"
"I didn't even say anything!" Srna protested.
Suker waved him off: "I know what you're thinking, but forget it!"
This year was an anomaly.
The superclubs all had unavoidable issues, which led to underperformance.
But next year, they'll regroup and come back with blood-red eyes, ready to crush every obstacle.
Miracles won't strike twice.
Even getting into the group stage with their current squad was historic.
Making it out of the group stage? A youthful miracle.
Quarterfinals? Youth storm MAX!
Further than that? Pure fantasy.
Ajax had a rich history, so an occasional miracle was tolerated.
But Dinamo Zagreb, a club that had never even made it to the Champions League proper?
Just qualifying would already be a historic achievement.
Sure, they had a batch of young geniuses.
But genius alone isn't enough.
Modrić wasn't yet a midfield maestro.
Vukojević wasn't yet a defensive wall.
Dujmović's long shots were still raw.
Mandžukić was still a big-headed goofball!
Srna wasn't yet the calm, composed captain of Croatia.
Pranjić still lacked defensive presence.
They hadn't fully realized their potential!
"Focus on the present," Suker said. "Let's win the Croatian league first. Then we can talk."
April 11, 2004 – Croatian League Round 30: Dinamo Zagreb vs Rijeka (home)
"...Again, it's Suker breaking through, dazzling footwork! Rijeka's fullback is dizzy! A cut inside and through ball—Davor Suker strikes first time!"
"Beautiful!! Another Suker-to-Suker connection. With little Suker lighting up the field, even Davor looks young again!"
"We don't want to lose him! We don't want to see Davor Suker grow old!"
Even though it was an away match, the crowd rose to applaud Davor Suker's goal.
Though they wore different club colors, they were all Croatians—and their hero was about to say goodbye.
April 16, 2004 – Round 31
Davor Suker came off the bench and scored again in the 79th minute, assisted by Modrić.
Two goals in two matches transported fans back to a time of passion and pride.
The Maksimir Stadium echoed with applause.
They were savoring every remaining moment with him.
April 23, 2004 – HNK Gorica vs Dinamo Zagreb
Davor Suker started and played the full 90 minutes.
Dinamo Zagreb won 2–0.
Suker provided two assists to little Suker, even passing up an open goal to assist him instead.
That unselfish pass was dubbed by the media: "Suker's Baton"—a symbolic gesture of passing on the legacy.
April 30, 2004 – Round 33
With one match left before clinching the title, Davor Suker announced this would be his farewell match.
In an interview, he stated:
"I came back to Croatia to help the next generation. I don't want to steal their spotlight."
"This is their first Croatian league title. The lights should shine on them, not on a match labeled 'Davor Suker's retirement game.'"
At Maksimir Stadium, his face appeared on the big screen.
"Goodbye, everyone. This is my last match. Cheer for me!"
The whole stadium wept.
Many fans couldn't hold back the tears. Saying goodbye to their hero was heartbreaking.
From the players' tunnel, Davor Suker adjusted his captain's armband.
20 years ago, he began his journey here.
Now, he returned—to say goodbye.
Where it began, it ends.
A beautiful full circle.
Though reluctant, he was resolute.
"This is my last match—give it your best!"
He turned back: "Suker!"
Little Suker poked his head out from the back of the line.
"Score more goals!" Davor grinned.
"Wouldn't that steal your thunder?" little Suker asked, scratching his nose.
"Call it a tribute," Davor smiled.
Little Suker was arrogant and self-centered. He never passed up a chance to score.
But today? He didn't take a single shot.
Every pass, every break—he fed to Davor Suker.
Davor smiled bitterly.
He had hoped little Suker would shine tonight—to honor him and gain recognition.
But the kid refused the spotlight.
"Well, I'll make you take it!"
Davor received another pass, and whipped in a signature left-foot strike—a low drive into the net!
The crowd—over 50,000 strong—exploded!
Journalists from all over the world came to witness this moment.
Davor Suker's strike was exquisite—but what followed was even more touching.
He ran straight to little Suker.
"What are you doing?!"
Little Suker panicked as Davor started undressing him.
"I'm not into that stuff!!"
"Shut up!" Davor barked.
Davor stripped off little Suker's No. 10 jersey and pulled over his own No. 9.
"You've always wanted this, right?" Davor smiled. "It's yours now."
He then dragged him to the media and fans, pointing at him proudly.
Little Suker stood stunned.
People cried, sobbed, cheered—shouting his name.
"Are they yelling for me… or you?" he asked.
He patted the No. 9 jersey on his chest.
"The 9 is here. Suker is here."
Cameras captured the moment.
Before a sea of crazed, emotional fans—
Two Sukers stood side by side.
And the young one now wore the sacred No. 9.