The field of international team chess is typically defined by rigorous preparation, cutting-edge theory, and optimal funding. Yet, at the recent European Team Championship, the Ukrainian men’s team secured gold, and the women’s team captured silver, driven by factors far less tangible: national obligation and sheer, unexpected resilience. This dual triumph, achieved amidst the ongoing full-scale conflict in Ukraine, was not merely a sports victory; it was a profound, symbolic act of intellectual endurance.
The Call to Duty: Coaches Return to the Front Line of the Mind
The path to the podium was fraught with difficulty, necessitated by the fragmentation of the national chess infrastructure following the 2022 invasion. Many players emigrated, key organizational staff departed, and assembling a competitive team became a logistical nightmare. The call went out to two veterans: Grandmasters Alexander Beliavsky and Adrian Mikhalchishin. Both men possessed immense experience, though Beliavsky had represented Slovenia for decades.
Mikhalchishin described their decision to return as a simple, overwhelming moral obligation. This sentiment transcended tactical preparation, providing the crucial, unifying force the team needed. Beliavsky took the reins as captain, with Mikhalchishin serving as the team trainer. Their shared duty was clear: restore the fighting spirit of a team that had historically excelled but faced years of modest European results.
Assembling the Fragmented Force
The coaching staff faced technical challenges immediately. The loss of top-tier talent, such as Kirill Shevchenko who now plays for Romania, created significant gaps. The internal pressure to perform was amplified by the difficulty of travel and regional political scrutiny, evidenced by team members being questioned at the border in Georgia, the host nation.
A critical decision was the lineup. At 56, the great Vasyl Ivanchuk was deemed too exposed for the responsibility of Board One in such a high-tension tournament. The coaches instead opted for a combination of veteran stability and youthful dynamism. They relied on the consistent ability of Ponomariov to neutralize strong opponents on the top board, while placing their bets on two “Ihors” for essential wins: Ihor Kovalenko and Ihor Samunenkov.
Kovalenko’s inclusion was perhaps the most astonishing narrative twist. He had spent three years serving in the army on the battlefield, earning the “For Courage” medal. A training match was urgently organized to help him regain form. This background transformed the chess dynamics; Kovalenko was not just playing for points, he was playing with the clarity of someone who understood real-world stakes. Coach Mikhalchishin recalls Kovalenko’s simple assessment before a crucial match: “I just need to get through the opening. I know what to do afterwards.” This focused, almost stoic approach defined the team’s fighting spirit.
Strategy, Stability, and the `Winner’s Memory`
The coaching strategy was rooted in discipline and morale, echoing the wisdom of old masters. Beliavsky handled line-ups and protocol, while Mikhalchishin focused on player preparation and team unity. This often required unusual methods.
One primary task, according to Mikhalchishin, was reigning in GM Andrei Volokitin, whose tactical depth sometimes led to self-sabotage. Mikhalchishin dryly noted that Volokitin`s analyses were consistently 40 moves long—a technical marvel, perhaps, but impractical under tournament pressure. The coaches imposed restraint. Furthermore, in an almost retro application of sports psychology, Mikhalchishin instituted mandatory daily one-hour walks, a practice he referred to as “tanking oxygen,” advised by the legendary World Champion Mikhail Botvinnik. These simple measures—fresh air and shared meals—proved invaluable for cohesion.
The men`s team, seeded ninth, was widely dismissed as a medal contender. They played with a team spirit that, as Beliavsky noted, recalls Armenia`s unexpected Olympiad wins. This resilience was fueled by the “winner’s memory” possessed by veterans who had triumphed before. They played the tournament’s best chess, registering only two bad positions throughout the event, culminating in critical wins like Volokitin’s dynamic victory over Blübaum.
The Reality Beyond the Chessboard
While the triumphs were celebrated internationally, the interviews offered a sobering perspective on the state of chess life back home.
International tournaments, the lifeblood of competitive chess, have essentially disappeared due to the security situation. Sponsors have redirected their support to junior events and local festivals. Cities like Lviv, once boasting a GM club with 23 grandmasters, now struggle to organize local blitz tournaments with five participants. Even more starkly, daily life is dictated by air-raid alerts and severe electricity blackouts, forcing children to study by candlelight.
The costs of the war on the chess community are tragic and permanent. While no grandmasters are known to have been killed, the coaching staff confirmed that between 40 and 50 Ukrainian chess players, trainers, and juniors have been casualties of the conflict. This reality makes the concept that sport should be “outside politics” a cruel and unsustainable fallacy.
A Symbolic Victory
Despite the immense obstacles—logistical, financial, and existential—the Ukrainian teams delivered a performance defined by tactical excellence and profound emotional commitment. The gold and silver medals were immediately recognized by the state, with plans for the teams to meet national leaders and nominations for state medals underway. Media attention, initially slow, surged after the teams entered the leadership tables.
This success proves that national identity and intellectual culture persist, even when under direct military threat. For a country fighting for its freedom, the image of soldiers like Kovalenko returning from the trenches to win on the world stage provides not just inspiration, but a powerful, quiet affirmation that the light of expertise and human spirit cannot be extinguished by force.

