Soccer and the idea of Ukraine
The story of two games that helped define the author’s homeland.
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In 1991, as national liberation movements swept across Eastern Europe and the Soviet empire, the distinguished British sociologist Anthony D. Smith published a new book on nationalism arguing that the modern nation is a “named human population” based on “common myths and historical memories,” among other things.
Smith did not explicitly name sports as one of his myths, but if you’ve ever been to a soccer match in Europe, it’s not hard to see how powerfully such events and the teams that play them can shape national identity, for better or worse. A country’s victories on the pitch can have profound and lasting social impact, while big losses can turn violent and even spark armed conflict.
The idea of Ukraine
Ukraine was in many ways a test case for Smith’s definition of nationalism. Situated at a crossroads between Europe and Asia, it enjoyed only brief periods of genuine independence between long stretches of imperial rule by the West and East. Its national identity was always a work in progress, though one held together by a language (banned by Russia), symbols like the “tryzub,” meaning trident, and the “vyshyvanka,” a traditional embroidered shirt, and poets like Taras Shevchenko or Larysa Kosach, whose pen name – “Lesia Ukrainka,” or Lesia the Ukrainian woman – was itself a call to national unity.
Soccer was another part of the glue that helped hold together the idea of Ukraine, even during the darkest periods of Soviet rule. While Ukraine did not have its own national team that played internationally, its club teams competed – and excelled – in Soviet competitions. Twice during the Soviet era, Ukrainian players won the prestigious Ballon D’or (European Footballer of the Year award). One club, Dynamo Kyiv, won more Soviet championships than any other, and a team from my hometown, L’viv, would pull off an even more spectacular victory.
Each of these successes gave Ukrainians a rare opportunity for the expression of authentic national pride – something otherwise banned by Moscow during the Soviet days. Following the rebirth of an independent Ukraine after 1991, soccer helped contribute to the rejuvenation of the nation. And after Russia’s partial invasion in 2014, followed by its full-scale invasion in 2022, soccer once again became a symbol of the resilience of the Ukrainian nation.
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Carpathian Pride in ’69
On Aug. 17, 1969, an estimated 57,000 fans packed the Luzhniki Stadium in Moscow for the final match of the Soviet Cup, an annual knockout competition featuring teams from the entire spectrum of the country’s soccer system (the format was similar to the U.S. Open Cup). That year, in a rare lopsided matchup, a team from the second tier of Soviet soccer would appear in the finals. (Imagine a World Series pitting a Major League Baseball team against one from the AAA minor leagues.)
The underdog was called Karpaty, or the “Carpathians,” and hailed from L’viv, the capital city of the western province of Galicia in then-Soviet Ukraine. Galicia had long been known as the cradle of Ukrainian nationalism; it was the place where armed resistance to Soviet rule lasted well into the 1950s.
On that hot day in August, the Ukrainians would face a Soviet Army team from the city of Rostov-on-Don in Russia. In the stands, about 20,000 visiting Ukrainians gathered – my stepfather, fresh from completing his mandatory military service, among them. Outnumbered by Russians, Karpaty’s supporters sang Ukrainian folk songs and wildly cheered for their team. Down 0-1 at halftime, Karpaty made a miraculous comeback and pulled off an upset, winning 2-1. For the first and only time in the tournament’s history, a team from the lower rungs of Soviet soccer had won the cup.
It was not only a major sporting accomplishment but a national triumph: A team from the most nationalist part of Ukraine had beaten a vaunted, and heavily favored, Soviet Army club. Hollywood could not have produced a better script. The upset gave Ukrainians hope that one day their country would yet again shine brightly on the global stage.
Cinderella from Crimea
Twenty-two years later, in a Christmas gift to the world, the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics ceased to exist on Dec. 25, 1991. In a popular referendum earlier that year, 92% of Ukrainians had voted for their country’s independence, including a clear majority – 54% – in Crimea. The peninsula, which had once been ruled by the ancient Greeks, the Genoese, and the Tatar Khanate, had been part of the Russian empire since the late 18th century (or just 6% of its settled history).
In 1954, the Soviet Premier Nikita Khrushchev transferred administrative control of Crimea to the Ukrainian Republic, largely for political and logistical reasons. During the Soviet era, the peninsula hosted the Black Sea Fleet in the city of Sevastopol, which Ukrainian authorities agreed to let Russia control even after Ukrainian independence. As a compromise, Crimea would get a special autonomous legal status in the otherwise unitary Ukrainian state.
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After the Soviet collapse, each of its newly independent successor countries formed their own sports federations and began holding separate soccer tournaments. Because of the timing of the dissolution and the need to sync up with the European soccer calendar, where teams contest national championships from fall until summer, the 1992 Ukrainian national championship was a hastily held affair, lasting only three months – from March until late June. To accommodate this shortened calendar, the 20 teams were split into two divisions of 10 teams each, with the winners of each division to face off in a take-it-all final game.
On June 21, 1992, my father and I made our way through the crowd to the newly renamed Ukraina Stadium in central L’viv to see that match. Unsurprisingly, it featured the new country’s best team – Dynamo Kyiv – which, on top of being the most decorated football club in Soviet history, had also won two major European trophies, something no other Soviet club had done.
The other contestant in the 1992 final was a bigger surprise. It was a Crimean team, Tavriya Simferopol, which had defeated many higher-rated teams in its division. Founded in 1958, the Crimean club had not won a single major title in its entire existence and had only spent a single season in the top rank of Soviet clubs. Just making it to the finals was a Cinderella story no less impressive than Karpaty’s in 1969.
On that day in June, the script that unfolded once again felt like something produced by Hollywood. Tavriya prevailed 1-0 over the heavy favorite, Dynamo, when Sergei Shevchenko scored the winning goal in the 75th minute. Along with the vast majority of the 36,000 fans in the stadium that day, my father and I had rooted for Dynamo and went home disappointed. With time, however, the result would become more meaningful. Ukraine was independent and whole again, including Crimea – which was now the home of its first post-Soviet national champion.
Soccer and resilience
In February 2014, Russian troops poured out of their military bases in Crimea and illegally annexed the peninsula. Soon after, Russian proxies occupied other parts of eastern Ukraine, including the cities of Donetsk and Luhansk. Eight years later, Russia would launch the full-scale invasion that has profoundly affected every aspect of Ukrainian life since.
To this day, however, soccer remains a symbol of resilience and unity in the country. After the occupation of Donetsk, its leading soccer team, Shakhtar Donetsk, relocated to the country’s west and continues to represent its home city in national and European competitions. After the annexation of Crimea, the European soccer authorities banned its teams, including Tavriya, from competing in Russian leagues.
Meanwhile, Ukrainian games are often disrupted by air raid sirens or have to be abandoned and replayed. For security reasons, Ukrainian teams are also not allowed to play against European teams on home soil, so they do so in Poland or other neighboring countries. Nevertheless, they play on, providing a modicum of normalcy for their war-scarred country and its people.
Starting in mid-June, Ukraine’s national team competed in the 2024 European Championship, Europe’s quadrennial soccer competition, hosted by Germany. I was once again in the stands when they took on Belgium on June 26. Like all Ukrainians, I hoped our “zbirna,” or national team, could at least match its impressive run during the last championship. Our nation may be divided by war, but all Ukrainians support our soccer heroes as though our country were once again unified.