At Ukraine’s Euros base in the spa town of Wiesbaden, they were taking down the images, loaded with significance, which had been a reminder of how the team’s presence transcended football.
Each player was pictured with words for the soldiers fighting Putin’s army. ‘You are always in our thoughts. You are the pride and honour of Ukraine. Glory to Ukraine!
Glory to the heroes!’ stated Chelsea forward Mykhailo Mudryk’s message. From Everton defender Vitaliy Mykolenko: ‘We strive to be as unfailing as you are! Glory to Ukraine! Glory to the heroes!’
How badly that reminder has been needed these past few weeks. The realities of the war Putin wages are slipping from public consciousness in so many places. In Germany, welfare payments – ‘citizen’s income’ – for Ukrainians who have sought exile are being reduced now.
You might not have heard that Russia ‘gliding bomb’ destroyed a school in Kharkiv on Sunday. Nor that the basic act of watching the team play has brought unimaginable challenges to those in Ukraine.
Ukraine were dumped out of Euro 2024 after finishing bottom on Group E on four points
The side were held to a goalless draw by Belgium after mounting a valiant challenge
Supporters cheered in their players as they pushed the European giants right to the end of their encounter on Wednesday
Putin’s army’s targeted destruction of power stations – three died in a huge strike on the grid in Kharkiv on Saturday – mean electricity in the country is rationed to three or four hours a day. People must decide between charging their phones and plugging in the fridge.
On Sunday, I headed up to Wiesbaden, the bucolic town near Frankfurt which, with its sloe hedges and wildflower borders in the walk up to the team base, seemed a million miles from the horrors of places like Kharkiv and Vovchansk.
The risk to the players’ personal safety was evident in the lobby, patrolled by German police. Helicopters had been hovering above the team as they were bussed into stadiums.
Wiesbaden is the base for a major US Army garrison – a coincidence, though it created welcome enhanced security. ‘We’re just so glad to be in Europe,’ related the team’s press officer Tetiana Yashchuk.
For 20 minutes or so, relentless questions of football and the impending Belgium game flew in to the two players designated to speak that day, in a way which suggested that perhaps the war was territory the team had tired of addressing.
It was with some hesitation that I asked how it was to play in the knowledge that many Ukrainians are watching this instead of plugging in the fridge.
These players seized on the chance. Georgiy Sudakov, the Shakhtar Donetsk forward, described the distress he had seen in his daughter, when they found themselves stuck in a lift back at home.
Russia’s thermobaric bombs have pulverised the once tranquil Ukrainian town in Donetsk region (pictured above: ruins of multi-storey buildings destroyed by the flamethrower bombs
‘We know there will be places where there is an electricity supply to gather to watch our matches,’ he said. ‘We know people who are defending our country are watching, too.’
The next Belgium question was being put when Maksym Talovierov, the Germany-based defender, interrupted to say he wanted the chance to speak, too. ‘It doesn’t matter if someone cannot watch the football,’ he told me, in English.
‘We understand that they will try to support us, whatever, and we really feel it too. It’s really important to us. We would like to make our country proud.’
They were as good as their word. When Ukraine were eliminated after the goalless draw with Belgium – the first team under the 32-team tournament qualification system to secure four points and not reach the knock-out stage – a message reached me from my friend Svetlana, who is exiled from Ukraine in Berlin. ‘They fought to the end’, she said.
I had visited her on Saturday at her place in the city’s northern Reinickendorf district. The flat is small but beautifully laid out, no space wasted – her way of making the best she can of life here. She’d invited other Ukrainians on the day I visited and there will be no better few hours spent at this tournament than those.
The print on the small mat outside Svetlana’s front door says: ‘Home’ and there was a terrible sadness in that. Her home is in Avdivka, 1,600 miles away on the front of line of the war. So, too, is her husband, one of the many left to defend their lands.
The squad applauded their fans after giving all they had to progress to the knockout stages
When she arrived in Germany, she thought it would be for two weeks. That was two years ago.
‘See you next time. Come again,’ Svetlana said, as I left, smiling but knowing in her heart that no end to the war and this exile is in sight. Briefly, the players shone a light and served a reminder of a bigger struggle. They have achieved more here than anyone will.
