It is the heart you notice first. Specifically, the way it is so clearly broken. And yet, the red marker ink does not bleed into the shirt’s white fabric.
Next, the letters, black and bold: Poltava.
Finally, the date, written by hand in block letters. The timestamp is not there for the players. No member of Ukrainian champions Vorskla Women needs to be reminded of what happened on September 3, 2024, the day Poltava — the club’s home in east-central Ukraine — was struck by two Russian ballistic missiles, killing at least 59 people and injuring more than 300 in one of the deadliest single attacks since Russia invaded Ukraine in 2022.
Less than 24 hours later, Vorskla players pulled their white shirts with their red broken hearts and black timestamps over their ponytails. They walked out onto a football pitch in Budapest where they met Latvian champions Riga, who wore shirts donning the same inscriptions. A Champions League first-round qualifying semi-final was meant to be played, despite the fact such an enterprise felt impossible, let alone appropriate.
It is this tension that sits at the heart of The Athletic’s two-hour conversation with Vorskla team-mates Tanya Levytska and Ania Davydenko and former player Iia Andrushchak, who is now manager of Vorskla men’s reserve side, Vorskla-2. There is the principal topic of: ‘Why play football during a war?’ But, perhaps more importantly: ‘How?’
“I want to start by sharing good news,” says Davydenko over a Zoom call, the words instantly warming the former Ukrainian police captain’s face. “My class-mate was released from a war prison today after more than a year. Yesterday, we met him. His first words were about the fact he didn’t have time to live, because he was so scared to die.
“I think about this now because I want to encourage people to have time to live. I wanted to win because my brother is a military man. I knew someone would write about our victory (against Riga). It might be insignificant news, but they will write about it. And I also wanted to thank those people who are there in the east, who give their lives, who will never see the morning or their children again.”
Vorskla claimed a 5-0 victory against Riga, progressing to the first-round qualifying final against Hungarian champions Ferencvarosi. A 2-0 victory secured a second-round qualifying berth against Scottish champions Celtic. Across two legs, Celtic won 3-0 on aggregate, ending Vorskla’s Champions League campaign.
But that Wednesday in September, and the hope it subsequently inspired, remains a moment of poignancy for the reigning Ukrainian champions.
“I cried before the game,” says Davydenko. “I cried because Riga wore those T-shirts with us. Because grief does not happen to someone in isolation. Because we chose in any case to do what we love, to not be scared.”
Vorskla’s story is — as is the case for so many Ukrainian clubs and athletes — one of strength and defiance in the most remarkable of circumstances. But it also shines a light on a growing concern for women’s football in the nation: significant development of the game that has come to a halt since Russia’s invasion.
In the spring of 2020, the Ukrainian Football Association adopted a four-year strategy for the growth of women’s football, which included requiring all top-flight men’s clubs to incorporate a women’s team into their structure, starting in the 2021-22 season. The ruling drastically changed the professional opportunities for women footballers, with increased access to sponsorship revenue, leading to many top women’s sides, including Vorskla (previously known as Zhytlobud-2 before their integration with Vorskla in 2021), operating on a full-time basis.
In years prior, women’s footballers were not afforded legal protection in contracts and very rarely received professional contracts or full-time opportunities, says Davydenko, who, after working as a waitress and gas-station attendant, joined the national police following her studies.
“I didn’t believe as a woman I could live on the account of sports,” she says.
After eight years in the police, Davydenko decided to return to football following the new regulation. But the negative stigma associated with women’s football left her fearful of informing friends and family of her decision.
“Everyone thought it was such an absurd decision,” Davydenko says through tears. “I was very afraid to upset my mom. She had such a tough life, and here I was quitting my job to pursue football. But the only thing she said was the doors of her house will always be open, even if I fail.”
The new regulation also attracted top talent from outside the country to the league, thus increasing its competitive value. However, Russia’s invasion of Ukraine in February 2022 led to all football in the nation being suspended. Many footballers, including Levytska, fled in search of safety and opportunities elsewhere. While men’s football was permitted to return later that year, women’s football had to wait until September 2023.
The word return rouses a chuckle from the women. The best way Andrushchak can put it is that her life has returned to normal until it has not. Cafes teem until the 11pm curfew arrives. Streets are full until the drones appear and alarms pierce the air.
“Rockets from Russia to Poltava, 30 seconds,” says the former Ukraine international. “Then, we remember that 120 kilometres away, there is Russia. There is danger.”
Football operates at a similar interrupted pace. Pre-match warm-ups carry on until the air-raid sirens shriek. Then players and staff must stop their high-knees and leg stretches and tactical prep to seek out shelter in a designated stadium passage, stacked with sandbags, that has the word “shelter” written on it, or search for cover elsewhere. Then, everyone waits, estimating the length of the intermission by reading news updates on their phones describing the make and model of the potential rocket launched.
Then the wailing halts. A cue to return. This is the protocol from kick-off to final whistle, 90-minute occasions stretching to five or six hours across the nation.
Vorskla’s Champions League campaign brought a new dimension. They were required to play their ‘home’ matches abroad because UEFA deemed the war-time conditions unsafe for hosting purposes. In this otherworld, football matches last just 90 minutes, nights extend without curfew, Ukraine flags flap in the wind without the soundtrack of sirens, and fans fill terraces.
“We smiled being in Scotland,” says Levytska of their two-legged qualifying play-off in Glasgow. “We play for 90 minutes without stopping and have only one warm-up. It was like, ‘Is this real life?’. And sometimes, we smile to the other girls and say: ‘Come to Ukraine! Try to play with us! Would you like to play a six-hour game?’.”
The women break into laughter.
“After a long time staying outside Ukraine, we go home. We forget how it is. Then we hear bombs. And we know we are home. Hello, home!” Levytska speaks as if greeting an old friend, her voice high and cheerful. Their laughter returns.
“When we say this, we smile. Because it is our life. Our choice.”
The choice has not been everyone’s. Despite the official resumption of women’s football last September, many top players have not returned. While the Ukrainian FA’s new legislation required the integration of women’s sides into a club structure, clubs are not mandated to provide youth pathways. The result is young domestic talent seeking playing opportunities outside Ukraine, weakening the domestic competition.
Where some businesses, such as Vorskla’s shirt sponsor Ferrexpo, have continued to support women’s teams during the crisis, others have shifted priorities elsewhere, leaving many women’s teams more vulnerable to the impacts of war. Dynamo Kyiv disbanded their women’s side at the start of the new season, shrinking the top flight to just 11 teams. A search for a replacement continues, but the loss of one of the most recognisable football brands in the country further dilutes a league already fighting for survival.
“Now, we cannot speak about development for women’s football,” says Andrushchak. “Development needs money, it needs coaches, it needs men’s football clubs to create the women’s teams, it needs investment.
“Now, we only speak about staying alive.”
Any talk of a solution hinges on an outcome with no timeline: the war’s end. But the indefinite nature of the situation does not keep the women from dreaming of a better future: one in which girls are not exposed to the game only by means of chasing after their brothers in parks or being heckled by strangers when they reveal their pursuit of a football career.
“I hear on social media all the time: ‘Oh, you’re a football player? Seriously? Women play football?’.” Levytska says. “Women’s football needs to be popularised and exposed.”
Shifting entrenched gender stereotypes begins from the grassroots up, says Andrushchak. She became the nation’s first woman to manage a men’s professional side when she took charge of Vorskla-2 last November after coaching the club’s under-19s men’s team. However, the landmark has made Andrushchak more aware of the gulf in access and development setups afforded to the nation’s young women and girls.
“England (Women) won the Euros in 2022,” she says. “After that there was a big boom in England about women’s football. But before they won, the FA invested a lot of money into the game, the clubs invested money into their women’s setups. Then England became champions. They reached a World Cup final. It’s a lot of steps to achieve something big like that, but now the Women’s Super League is the best league in the world.
“I hope that in five years, we will be closer to that. We have empty stadiums because some people can go to games, some people are interested but others do not want to because women’s football is not a priority.
“But our goal is to keep the game alive, to keep it functioning. Then everything can be possible after the war.”
Since leaving Glasgow in September, Vorskla’s attention has turned to winning a sixth domestic title on the trot. They sit second in the league, two points behind leaders Kolos Kov but with a game in hand.
And the adrenaline of their Champions League campaign has not worn off yet.
“It’s hard to explain but honestly, I was more intimidated by playing against Celtic in the Champions League than facing a rocket,” Davydenko says. She is being serious.
“Ukrainian people, we are hard-working. We love our life, we fight for our life. We are not only playing for ourselves. We are playing for our country. We play for the opportunity to wake up every morning as a Ukrainian.”
(Top photo: Vorskla Poltava players line up before their Champions League qualifier against Riga. Credit: FC Vorskla Poltava)
