A group of young Ukrainian footballers finds hope in Poland.

“For the guys, it’s the most difficult,” Irina says as she watches her son, Denys, play one-twos with a new teammate on an artificial pitch in Warsaw’s northern suburbs. “His father isn’t here, and his older brother has enlisted in the military.” There are only the two of us. The language barrier is a challenge for me, but I’m willing to overcome it. “Everything we’re doing now is for the sake of our children’s future,” she says, motioning to a fellow Ukrainian mother standing along the touchline.

Denys is one of nine young Ukrainian footballers selected by Turbo Academy, one of Poland’s most prestigious football clubs. The majority are 13 or older.

“Our sons would choose football over everything else back home,” Irina explains. “However, our house has been damaged, and the pitches have been blasted, and they will be unable to stay.” They’re being given a chance here.”

The majority of Turbo’s recruits come from the FK Kramatorsk academy, which is located 50 miles north of Donetsk in Ukraine’s unstable east. Irina and Denys were the exceptions, having relocated to Kyiv just before the invasion. Denys was all set to join Shakhtar’s youth setup when his life was turned upside down. The children arrived in Medyka, Poland, on March 25th, six of them with their moms. Grzegorz Jedrzejewski, Turbo’s goalkeeping coach, had learned from a source that a group of Ukrainian players were looking to depart. He arranged for a bus to pick them up with the help of the Polish Football Association.

“We’d been waiting a week to hear when they were arriving,” Jedrzejewski explains. “They had been hiding in basements, but because of the explosions, they felt it was time to escape, and I got the call.” They flew from Kramatorsk to Kyiv and subsequently to Medyka. At night, I stood at the border, yelling names off a list. It was a collection of folks who didn’t know what they were going to do from day to day. I only found out after I arrived.

The boys and their moms were all able to be housed at a local boarding school thanks to the intervention of the local mayor. Every evening except Tuesday, sessions with Turbo are held in an integrated group with the local players. “It was critical that we ensured that they could live with their mothers and provided more than simply instruction,” says Jedrzejewski. “Thankfully, we were successful, and the important thing is that they can forget about the war for every minute of their football practice.” They are smiling rather than sobbing or acting miserable.”

Oksana is drinking coffee and carefully describing the decisions she has made over the last two months a few miles to the south, around the corner from the flat she currently shares with her son Dima. Dima, who turns 14 this summer, was a center-forward for Metalist Kharkiv’s under-15s when his city was attacked, and was considered a great talent in his age group.

“Every morning he would get up at 5 a.m. and go to training,” she says. “He’d return home, shower, go to school, and then train again later in the day.” He’s wanted to be a football player since he was seven years old, and his coaches believe he can achieve it. I simply hope he keeps his zest for playing despite everything.”

He got his wish: one of the volunteers who had met them, Marta, had ties to the local team Polonia. Dima was training there less than 24 hours after coming in Poland, and Oksana was waiting for clearance to let him to compete for them at the time of our encounter. Metalist’s trainers communicate frequently and have provided unwavering support.

“We’re waiting for that since the Polonia coach likes him a lot,” she says. “In the meanwhile, he enjoys exercising, which is helpful for him since it keeps his mind off of the situation in Ukraine.” His school in Kharkiv was bombed; we recognize that none of this will be completed quickly, and that we’ll have to wait.

Irina recalls, “I have acquaintances, former neighbors, who were slain by that strike.” “These are genuine individuals in real situations.” The situation is disastrous. Our lives are pleasant here, and we are well cared after, yet our souls remain at home.”

The sun has set, and training is ended. Denys and his teammates, dressed in dark colours while additional orange club uniforms are ordered, use their combined might to return a full-sized goal to its original location. There is laughter and good-natured screaming, but there is no hint of segregation.

“I introduced them to our boys as heroes in the first squad meeting after they arrived,” Jedrzejewski adds. “It’s the end of your youth when you see and hear gunshots all around you.” They’ve come to help us.