by Mantas Aliukonis

FC Džiugas Telšiai’s push into the A Lyga’s top half (currently fifth) has been powered by a sturdy back line and a goalkeeper who sounds as grounded as he is ambitious. Marius Paukštė talks about football like someone who has built himself brick by brick: he remembers the first save, the first mentors, and the first door that opened. “Everything began with kids playing in the yard,” he says of Utena, where he grew up. “A friend suggested we try football training together and that’s how I’ve stayed in the game to this day. My first coach was Almantas Bražėnas, later Arūnas Rastenis—I think the biggest credit for me staying in football goes to him. And my first real goalkeeping coach was Pavel Leus—a true authority who taught me practically everything at the start.”
From backyard saves to an A Lyga debut
The position itself arrived by accident and stuck for good. “As a kid I even played as a striker,” he laughs, “but at one training session I went in goal and made a really good save. The coach went to his car, pulled out a goalkeeper’s kit—and that’s how I stayed in this position.” The memories remain sharp, including his A Lyga debut back in 2017. “It was against the then-Trakai side,” he recalls. “I played about 30 minutes, conceded one, and the final was 1–4. I should probably thank the Spanish coach we had at the time for letting me make that debut.” The journey since has been steady rather than flashy. “I think I was a late bloomer,” Paukštė admits.
“Never stopping, working hard, learning from my mistakes, and analysing other goalkeepers—that’s how I’ve grown.”

Telšiai feels like home — and expectations are rising
Five seasons on, Telšiai feels like more than a job; it feels like home. “I truly feel at home here,” he says. “I’m very grateful the club believed in me—there’s been a bit of everything along the way. I don’t want to evaluate the season yet; let’s wait until it’s over and we’ll see how it went. But I really believe with this team we can achieve something special and create a celebration Telšiai deserves. For now the most important thing is to go from game to game with the same energy—don’t concede and score.” That collective steadiness, he says, starts with head coach Andrius Lipskis. “Our coach is the most important reason for our results,” Paukštė says.
“He’s very intelligent, a players’ coach who communicates with everyone, shares his philosophy, and instils that Žemaitija character. I can only say the best things about him—and in time I believe he can coach at the very highest level.”
Ambition sharpens when the talk turns to silverware and the run-in. “We’re in the cup semi-finals,” Paukštė says. “We’ll wait for the draw and then go and fight to reach the final and bring joy to the whole city of Telšiai.” Džiugas’ domestic target is clear: Paukštė believes they can finish higher than last season’s sixth in the A Lyga. This year, Džiugas have so far avoided the prolonged slump that dogged them last season, and the dressing-room mood is positive. The belief is practical, rooted in daily habits. “Every day I analyse my mistakes, fix them, study other goalkeepers, and try to improve both my strengths and weaknesses. One of my strengths is shot-stopping on the line. I don’t think I’ve reached my peak—I want to show even more.”
Standards, bonds, and the person behind the gloves
His compass points are close to home. Asked about his brother, goalkeeper Lukas Paukštė, Marius chooses fraternity over rivalry. “That’s a very hard question,” he smiles. “First of all I wish my brother good health—injuries shouldn’t bother him. He’s an incredibly good goalkeeper and deserves to achieve a lot, if he wants to. We’ll see what the future brings.” He doesn’t duck the league’s matchups, either. “The hardest striker to face? Liviu Antal—his desire and effort are top class.” Nor does he hesitate on an underrated player: “Lukas Ankudinovas, my teammate—there isn’t another fighter like him in A Lyga.” Around the locker room, bonds matter. “Miroslav Pushkarov is my closest friend in the team—we have a really good connection.”
Paukštė’s worldview is honest and quietly modest.
“If talent doesn’t work hard every day, over time it achieves nothing,” he says. “Someone with less talent who works hard will achieve much more.”
He shrugs off dramatics: “I don’t think I’ve ever had a red card,” and “No,” he adds, “I’ve never received an offer to fix a match.” Training fights? “I’ve seen them—but that’s normal; football without emotions wouldn’t be football.” Superstitions exist—“I have them, but I’ll keep them to myself”—and so do simple tastes: dogs over cats, blondes, lasagna and the occasional Coca-Cola. He laughs that the last book he finished was All Quiet on the Western Front in 12th grade—“I’m not proud of that”—yet if you sent him to a deserted island, he’d take “a book” “to finally get one read.” One day, he’d like to visit the United Arab Emirates.
Ultimately, Paukštė brings the conversation back to Telšiai and the job ahead. “We’ll wait for the draw and then go and fight to reach the final and bring joy to the whole city of Telšiai,” Paukštė says. “For now the most important thing is to go from game to game with the same energy — don’t concede and score.” These are the words of a goalkeeper who knows exactly where he stands: on his line when it matters, with his city when it counts, and in a season where Džiugas want to turn belief into a real celebration.
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