Incoming? Dario Zuparic

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Ricky

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Rijeka defender a possible signing for £1.5m, according to the Daily Star.

Centre half who can play in midfield. One year left on his contract.

There could be something in this, as we've already been linked with Rijeka's keeper. Maybe we've been watching them.

https://www.dailystar.co.uk/sport/football/781374/Sheffield-United-transfer-news-exclusive-Dario-Zuparic-Fulham-gossip-latest?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed:+daily-star-football+(Daily+Star+::+Football+Feed)
Interesting ,sounds like we've started looking further afield but these are the kind of bargains we are going to need a few of to supplement the first team squad
 


Seems to play right centered centre half too so would be competition for bash presumably. Seems decent from this video, bit they're not always a full reflection obviously.
 
With the obvious caveat that if Wilder wants him that's good enough for me....however....this is the type of signing Ud have expected if we'd stayed in the championship.
 
Rijeka defender a possible signing for £1.5m, according to the Daily Star.

Centre half who can play in midfield. One year left on his contract.

There could be something in this, as we've already been linked with Rijeka's keeper. Maybe we've been watching them.
YESSSSSSS, an actual rumour not a suggestions.




That said, daily Star, no Nixon......


Don’t believe it :(
 
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Seems to play right centered centre half too so would be competition for bash presumably. Seems decent from this video, bit they're not always a full reflection obviously.


There's a good level of technique there.

It says he's both footed at the beginning too. If so, anyone who can play 2 or 3 of the defensive positions and in midfield would definitely appeal, especially at a low fee.

The search for that sort of versatility which can save money to spend elsewhere might have driven us to scout places like Croatia.

A player like this would jump at the chance of a move to England regardless of whether they'd just be a cover player.

That London Whites wanted him in January offers some level of assurance about his ability. I wouldn't be shocked if he'd choose them over us though if they go back in for him.
 
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Well, I've never heard of Rijeka either, but they've just finished 2nd being Zagreb and above Hadjuk Split, so..

They may be decent
 

Full time. They've failed to beat the 7th placed in a 10 team league, falling to a 1-1 draw.

This proves the greatness of these two players and how they carry the team.

We cannot afford to miss out.
We must blow the entire budget on them immediately
Show some ambition
 


Seems to play right centered centre half too so would be competition for bash presumably. Seems decent from this video, bit they're not always a full reflection obviously.


I can remember the videos that were shared of Luton Shelton, Ahmed Fahti and David McAllister, so I'm always a tad sceptical when I see these videos.
 
Looks decent, could replace bash, baldock or cover for Norwood with that f***ing ping.
 
I could make a video as good as that about me from a couple of games and I'm 53, Head clearance was particularly wank given it was just shy of landing in the opponents boot end. I'll hang fire on this one.
 
Well, I've never heard of Rijeka either, but they've just finished 2nd being Zagreb and above Hadjuk Split, so..

They may be decent

I've heard of Rijeka. I've been there. And I know all about Dario Zuparic.

Rijeka is on the Croatian coast. I was held captive there overnight before being deported to the island of Krk.

This all happened on a package holiday to Pula in Croatia. One afternoon, I got a bit ambitious on a pedalo and drifted out to sea. It turns dark about 6 o'clock there and I soon become tired and exhausted - eventually I was picked up by a police boat, who rescued me and took me to the police station in Rijeka. The threw me into a cell to begin with. Then about an hour later, the Croatian desk sergeant, came to "interrogate" me. He didn't speak a word of English - well, apart from "passport". And I didn't speak a word of Croatian, apart from "pedalo". So there he was, sticking his hands through the bars of my cell demanding "passport?". And I tried to tell him, in my clearest Derbyshire English, that I'd not got me passport on me because I don't normally carry a passport when I go pedalo-ing. He didn't understand and he just got more and more angry - and he starts shouting "PASSPORT!" and I got fucking angry an' all and started shouting, "PEDALO!" back. Eventually, he gave up and just stormed out and left me there in this cell. Just a flat bed in there with no mattress - and a tin bucket to piss in. I didn't have a mobile phone back in them days, but if I did I bet the wi-fi signal would have been crap an' all. What a fuckin' dump!

I must have fallen asleep because the next thing is the sunlight is coming into my cell and it's morning. The cell door creaks open and there's some big burly Croatian copper indicating to me to get up. I thought they must be giving me breakfast, so I said to him, (hoping he could understand English), "Can I have brown toast please, not white, and I like my eggs poached, not fried". This bloke just grunted then grabbed me by the scruff off the neck, literally pushed me up a flight of stone stairs and then out the back door of the police station, where another gruff looking bloke with a long beard, dressed in scruffy clothes, bundled me into the back of a van and tied me up with rope. The van stunk like a farmyard.

I was now very fearful for my life. The van set off and travelled for about 20 minutes, then came to a halt. After a delay of about an hour, the van moved off again, but only for a short distance, a matter of a few yards. I could hear other vehicles and the clanking of iron - then I felt a sensation that we were on water. Indeed, I was now tied up in a van, and the van was on a ferry. My destination, the island of Krk.

To cut this very long, but interesting, story short, I was kidnapped and taken to a remote farmhouse up in the mountains of Krk where I remain held captive for many months by a homosexual goatherd. At least he looked after me though and brought me fresh goat's milk for breakfast, and as I got to know him better, and we began to communicate in broken English, he was very keen to get my ideas on interior design and would take me to the local markets to help him choose fabrics and things.

It was on such a visit to the market in Krk that we stopped off to watch a bunch of schoolboys playing football. One player stood out for his technical ability above all others. I didn't know who he was at the time - and I suppose first time I saw him I didn't really take much notice. But every Saturday we went down to the local market and stopped off to watch the kids play football on the way back. This lad stood out every week. He was two-footed, like most players, but he could play football with either of them. He was quick. He could tackle. He'd got a long pass on him. And he could head the ball.

I said to my goatherd captor - "He's bloody good that kid in't he?" and he replied, "ooh gorgeous - him called Dario. Dario Supperitch" or summat like that.

I came to quite enjoy my time in captivity with my Croation goatherd captor. Eventually he trust me enough to let me out on my own. It was one day, when he'd sent me down to the local village to get some vaseline, that I decided to make a break for it. I made it down to the town and tagged on to a tour group then followed them onto their coach and back to the mainland - where I found the Thomson's rep from several months earlier and gave him a reight bollocking for not checking up on me. They apologised profusely and pleaded with me not to put a negative review on TripAdvisor - and within a few hours I was reunited with an emergency passport and put on the next charter flight back to East Midlands.

I've followed Dario's career endlessly since those first mornings when I used to watch him kick around in the park. I always thought he'd make the very top grade - and I'm delighted to hear he's being linked with us.
 
I've heard of Rijeka. I've been there. And I know all about Dario Zuparic.

Rijeka is on the Croatian coast. I was held captive there overnight before being deported to the island of Krk.

This all happened on a package holiday to Pula in Croatia. One afternoon, I got a bit ambitious on a pedalo and drifted out to sea. It turns dark about 6 o'clock there and I soon become tired and exhausted - eventually I was picked up by a police boat, who rescued me and took me to the police station in Rijeka. The threw me into a cell to begin with. Then about an hour later, the Croatian desk sergeant, came to "interrogate" me. He didn't speak a word of English - well, apart from "passport". And I didn't speak a word of Croatian, apart from "pedalo". So there he was, sticking his hands through the bars of my cell demanding "passport?". And I tried to tell him, in my clearest Derbyshire English, that I'd not got me passport on me because I don't normally carry a passport when I go pedalo-ing. He didn't understand and he just got more and more angry - and he starts shouting "PASSPORT!" and I got fucking angry an' all and started shouting, "PEDALO!" back. Eventually, he gave up and just stormed out and left me there in this cell. Just a flat bed in there with no mattress - and a tin bucket to piss in. I didn't have a mobile phone back in them days, but if I did I bet the wi-fi signal would have been crap an' all. What a fuckin' dump!

I must have fallen asleep because the next thing is the sunlight is coming into my cell and it's morning. The cell door creaks open and there's some big burly Croatian copper indicating to me to get up. I thought they must be giving me breakfast, so I said to him, (hoping he could understand English), "Can I have brown toast please, not white, and I like my eggs poached, not fried". This bloke just grunted then grabbed me by the scruff off the neck, literally pushed me up a flight of stone stairs and then out the back door of the police station, where another gruff looking bloke with a long beard, dressed in scruffy clothes, bundled me into the back of a van and tied me up with rope. The van stunk like a farmyard.

I was now very fearful for my life. The van set off and travelled for about 20 minutes, then came to a halt. After a delay of about an hour, the van moved off again, but only for a short distance, a matter of a few yards. I could hear other vehicles and the clanking of iron - then I felt a sensation that we were on water. Indeed, I was now tied up in a van, and the van was on a ferry. My destination, the island of Krk.

To cut this very long, but interesting, story short, I was kidnapped and taken to a remote farmhouse up in the mountains of Krk where I remain held captive for many months by a homosexual goatherd. At least he looked after me though and brought me fresh goat's milk for breakfast, and as I got to know him better, and we began to communicate in broken English, he was very keen to get my ideas on interior design and would take me to the local markets to help him choose fabrics and things.

It was on such a visit to the market in Krk that we stopped off to watch a bunch of schoolboys playing football. One player stood out for his technical ability above all others. I didn't know who he was at the time - and I suppose first time I saw him I didn't really take much notice. But every Saturday we went down to the local market and stopped off to watch the kids play football on the way back. This lad stood out every week. He was two-footed, like most players, but he could play football with either of them. He was quick. He could tackle. He'd got a long pass on him. And he could head the ball.

I said to my goatherd captor - "He's bloody good that kid in't he?" and he replied, "ooh gorgeous - him called Dario. Dario Supperitch" or summat like that.

I came to quite enjoy my time in captivity with my Croation goatherd captor. Eventually he trust me enough to let me out on my own. It was one day, when he'd sent me down to the local village to get some vaseline, that I decided to make a break for it. I made it down to the town and tagged on to a tour group then followed them onto their coach and back to the mainland - where I found the Thomson's rep from several months earlier and gave him a reight bollocking for not checking up on me. They apologised profusely and pleaded with me not to put a negative review on TripAdvisor - and within a few hours I was reunited with an emergency passport and put on the next charter flight back to East Midlands.

I've followed Dario's career endlessly since those first mornings when I used to watch him kick around in the park. I always thought he'd make the very top grade - and I'm delighted to hear he's being linked with us.

Quality story... How much of it is true?
 
Did you loose your deposit on the pedalo. They will have been gutted not getting it back.
 

I've heard of Rijeka. I've been there. And I know all about Dario Zuparic.

Rijeka is on the Croatian coast. I was held captive there overnight before being deported to the island of Krk.

This all happened on a package holiday to Pula in Croatia. One afternoon, I got a bit ambitious on a pedalo and drifted out to sea. It turns dark about 6 o'clock there and I soon become tired and exhausted - eventually I was picked up by a police boat, who rescued me and took me to the police station in Rijeka. The threw me into a cell to begin with. Then about an hour later, the Croatian desk sergeant, came to "interrogate" me. He didn't speak a word of English - well, apart from "passport". And I didn't speak a word of Croatian, apart from "pedalo". So there he was, sticking his hands through the bars of my cell demanding "passport?". And I tried to tell him, in my clearest Derbyshire English, that I'd not got me passport on me because I don't normally carry a passport when I go pedalo-ing. He didn't understand and he just got more and more angry - and he starts shouting "PASSPORT!" and I got fucking angry an' all and started shouting, "PEDALO!" back. Eventually, he gave up and just stormed out and left me there in this cell. Just a flat bed in there with no mattress - and a tin bucket to piss in. I didn't have a mobile phone back in them days, but if I did I bet the wi-fi signal would have been crap an' all. What a fuckin' dump!

I must have fallen asleep because the next thing is the sunlight is coming into my cell and it's morning. The cell door creaks open and there's some big burly Croatian copper indicating to me to get up. I thought they must be giving me breakfast, so I said to him, (hoping he could understand English), "Can I have brown toast please, not white, and I like my eggs poached, not fried". This bloke just grunted then grabbed me by the scruff off the neck, literally pushed me up a flight of stone stairs and then out the back door of the police station, where another gruff looking bloke with a long beard, dressed in scruffy clothes, bundled me into the back of a van and tied me up with rope. The van stunk like a farmyard.

I was now very fearful for my life. The van set off and travelled for about 20 minutes, then came to a halt. After a delay of about an hour, the van moved off again, but only for a short distance, a matter of a few yards. I could hear other vehicles and the clanking of iron - then I felt a sensation that we were on water. Indeed, I was now tied up in a van, and the van was on a ferry. My destination, the island of Krk.

To cut this very long, but interesting, story short, I was kidnapped and taken to a remote farmhouse up in the mountains of Krk where I remain held captive for many months by a homosexual goatherd. At least he looked after me though and brought me fresh goat's milk for breakfast, and as I got to know him better, and we began to communicate in broken English, he was very keen to get my ideas on interior design and would take me to the local markets to help him choose fabrics and things.

It was on such a visit to the market in Krk that we stopped off to watch a bunch of schoolboys playing football. One player stood out for his technical ability above all others. I didn't know who he was at the time - and I suppose first time I saw him I didn't really take much notice. But every Saturday we went down to the local market and stopped off to watch the kids play football on the way back. This lad stood out every week. He was two-footed, like most players, but he could play football with either of them. He was quick. He could tackle. He'd got a long pass on him. And he could head the ball.

I said to my goatherd captor - "He's bloody good that kid in't he?" and he replied, "ooh gorgeous - him called Dario. Dario Supperitch" or summat like that.

I came to quite enjoy my time in captivity with my Croation goatherd captor. Eventually he trust me enough to let me out on my own. It was one day, when he'd sent me down to the local village to get some vaseline, that I decided to make a break for it. I made it down to the town and tagged on to a tour group then followed them onto their coach and back to the mainland - where I found the Thomson's rep from several months earlier and gave him a reight bollocking for not checking up on me. They apologised profusely and pleaded with me not to put a negative review on TripAdvisor - and within a few hours I was reunited with an emergency passport and put on the next charter flight back to East Midlands.

I've followed Dario's career endlessly since those first mornings when I used to watch him kick around in the park. I always thought he'd make the very top grade - and I'm delighted to hear he's being linked with us.
Still pissed from last night perchance?
 

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