The locker room echoed with the clatter of studs on tile as the Czech team prepared for kickoff. Mojmír Chytil sat at his spot, rolling his shoulders, eyes fixed on the lineup sheet pinned to the wall.

“Target man again, huh?” teased his teammate, nudging him with a grin.

Chytil smirked and stood, towering slightly over the others. “They put me up front to make some noise. Guess it’s time to wake a few center-backs up.”

Laughter followed him out the tunnel, but it faded as the whistle blew. On the pitch, Mojmír was all business—bodying defenders off the ball, chasing down loose passes, making darting runs into space.

In the 62nd minute, he rose above two defenders to meet a curling cross, thumping a header past the keeper. The stadium erupted.

On the jog back to midfield, the captain slapped his back. “You’re becoming a real problem for them, Chytil.”

Mojmír just nodded, eyes already scanning for the next opening.