"What a spectacular match! This is the miracle-making European Championship!"
"Since the group stage, Croatia has cut through obstacles and defeated one strong opponent after another to finally stand on the European Championship podium!"
"These young men from Croatia—most of them participating in such a major international tournament for the first time—have won the championship with brilliant performances."
"Croatia calls this generation 'the era that surpasses all,' just as Croatian fans praise them. They have exceeded their predecessors' achievements at the Euros by winning the 2008 European Championship trophy. Let's congratulate Croatia, let's congratulate these young players!"
On TV, fireworks exploded, dazzling brightly against the dark night sky.
The camera shifted to people's ecstatic faces, revealing their burning inner passion.
The entire city of Vienna had become a stage for Croatian celebration—and a place of sorrow for the Germans.
Inside a hospital in Vienna,
Šuker was still lying on the bed, watching his teammates prepare for the award ceremony on TV.
In the ward, Vukojević sat on a bench, munching on an apple, shaking his head with a sigh: "If it weren't for the injury in the semifinal, I could have been on the podium too."
"Regrettable?" Šuker asked, turning his head.
Vukojević shrugged: "After all, it's the first time on the podium and representing the national team. Of course, it's regrettable! Don't you feel the same?"
Šuker: "I'm okay with it."
Vukojević sighed again: "My ankle sprain will take 4 to 6 weeks to recover. Whether I can be ready for the new season is uncertain."
Šuker: "I need 20 weeks! Probably miss half a season, more than half a year."
Vukojević frowned: "That bastard Lahm!"
Just thinking about the foul on Šuker made him furious.
"But you can't blame him entirely. You had your own issues—you should have played more cautiously in the second half."
"Couldn't help it, emotions were high. No one expected that guy's reaction to be so intense!"
"But Lahm's mistake cost Germany the Euros," Vukojević grinned, "Poor Ballack."
The eternal runner-up truly made it official this time.
Meanwhile, on TV, Croatian players were already stepping onto the podium, with Srna holding the trophy and celebrating.
At the very front row,
Modrić held up Šuker's jersey, and Duimović held Vukojević's jersey.
They couldn't attend the ceremony due to injury, but the Croatian team showed everyone that they were still an essential part of the team.
"Heading back home tomorrow!"
Vukojević said, "Once back, there will be a victory parade. What about you?"
Šuker waved: "I probably can't make it. I still can't move. In a couple of days, maybe back to Zagreb—or maybe directly to Milan!"
"Got it!"
Just then, there was a knock on the door.
Zorančic entered, dusty and hurried.
"Killer! That damn German!"
Zorančic cursed as he walked in.
He usually paid great attention to his outfit, but now he was in big shorts and a T-shirt, slippers on his feet, carrying a simple bag—obviously rushed over straight after watching the match.
"How is it?"
Zoranči asked anxiously.
Šuker: "Twenty weeks recovery."
"Twenty weeks!" Zoranči immediately covered his head with his hands.
Though he expected it to be serious, twenty weeks was still worse than anticipated.
"Fortunately, no surgery needed, but still requires rest!"
Zorančic nodded: "Understood. Next, I'll arrange everything for you and assign a private doctor for care!"
He then looked at Vukojević.
Vukojević stood up politely, smiling: "I'll rest at home now. You guys talk."
After bidding farewell to Vukojević, Šuker looked at Zorančic: "What's up?"
Zorančic: "Florentino called me immediately to express his condolences. He told you to rest well and reassured you that your injury won't affect your position in his eyes. Even if your form drops after the injury, he's patient to wait for you to return to peak condition."
Šuker raised his eyebrows slightly.
He had to admit, Florentino's message was perfectly timed.
After the injury, Šuker's biggest worry was about his transfer to Real Madrid.
But from Florentino's statement, it seemed he wasn't too shaken by the news.
Šuker smiled: "Thank the chairman for me. I might stay in the Vienna hospital for a while longer. I'll leave when I can at least move around a bit."
Zorančic: "I'll contact the primary doctor now and will transfer your medical records. Are you going to Zagreb or Milan?"
Šuker thought a moment: "Milan."
"Milan's medical facilities are better. Their sports medicine center is famous for treating athletes' injuries."
"Okay, I got it."
After saying that, Zorančic turned and left the ward.
Šuker lay back down, eyes on the TV, but his mind had already opened the system panel.
The rewards from the European Championship final!He had scored a hat-trick in the first half of the final—surely the rewards would be generous!He even got a diamond card for the semifinal!
How many diamond cards would the final bring?
[(Diamond Card – Special) Inzaghi's Awareness][(Diamond Card – Special) Ronaldo's Dribbling][(Diamond Card – Special) Shevchenko's Shooting][(Diamond Card – Special) Maldini's Willpower]
These were the diamond cards Šuker currently owned.
From just one diamond card at the start, now he had four.
Although still far from completing the diamond card set, progress was significant.
[Name: Šuker]
[Height: 183 cm]
[Weight: 77 kg]
[Speed: 95]
[Agility: 91]
[Strength: 89]
[Explosiveness: 95] (Forgot this existed)
To prepare for the Euro final, Šuker invested most of his attribute points into agility, keeping his breakthrough sharp and effective.
This investment had now brought a rich reward.
After briefly reviewing his stats, Šuker opened the card draw interface.
The European Championship final card draw!
Looking at the five card slots below, he couldn't help getting excited.
Draw!
Accompanied by card shuffling and drawing sounds,
Three of the five slots burst forth dazzling light.
Besides the first and second slots glowing softly white, the other three shone with brilliant diamond radiance.
Three diamond cards!!
"Holy crap!"
Šuker couldn't help but twitch excitedly, but pain shot through his tailbone.
Hiss!He gasped sharply, calming his excitement, and opened the three diamond cards.
[(Diamond Card – Special) Buffon's Saving Awareness](bruh)[(Diamond Card – Special) Bale's Speed][(Diamond Card – Special) Ronaldo's Shooting]
Šuker blinked.
How to describe this draw?
"Buffon's Saving Awareness" was useless to him—maybe if he ever played goalkeeper by chance, but that was unlikely since no coach would make their top striker a goalie.
As for "Bale's Speed," it was somewhat redundant since Šuker was already fast.
His speed relied on quick feet and a flowing dribbling rhythm—using this card recklessly might disrupt his style.
Finally, "Ronaldo's Shooting."
At last, another piece of the 'Ronaldo set.'
Perhaps because he had already obtained several diamond cards, he wasn't overly excited.
Or maybe these cards just didn't thrill him too much.
If he got something like "Ronaldinho's Ball Control," he would really take off.
He had coveted that for a long time!Why was he unable to get diamond cards of legendary stars like Beckenbauer, Pelé, Maradona, or Zidane?
Probably no chance in the past two years.
Wait!
Šuker's eyes brightened.
There was still the 2010 World Cup coming up.
Though it was unlikely they'd reach the final—Spain in 2010 was terrifyingly strong—
Judging from past patterns, Šuker felt diamond cards would be available during the World Cup knockout stage!
Thinking this, Šuker felt a bit happier.
Of course, the priority now was to recover!
And cooperate actively with treatment.
The recovery status card cooldown had ended, but Šuker dared not use it!
He still needed to be re-examined; if it showed he healed immediately, they might pull him in for research like a medical specimen.
So, Šuker planned to lie low and rest for a while.