The recent European Team Chess Championship (ETC) in Batumi, Georgia, delivered a result that transcended mere sport: a double triumph for Ukraine. The men`s national team secured the gold medal, while the women`s team captured a hard-fought silver. This success, achieved under the shadow of a devastating full-scale war, serves not only as a massive morale boost for the nation but as a remarkable technical achievement orchestrated by two chess veterans, Adrian Mikhalchishin and Alexander Beliavsky.
The Challenge of Assembly: Rebuilding a Champion Squad
The path to victory was fraught with logistical and emotional challenges. The war caused significant disruption, leading to the emigration of key players, changes in federation leadership, and, critically, a near-total collapse of funding in 2023. As Mikhalchishin noted, the return to coaching duties felt like a “moral obligation,” despite Beliavsky having represented Slovenia for three decades.
Assembling a competitive roster required difficult choices. The team needed “new energy” following a modest result at the Budapest Olympiad. One glaring issue was the loss of talents like Kirill Shevchenko, who now represents Romania—a harsh economic reality of the conflict. The coaches also had to manage expectations for seasoned grandmasters like Vasyl Ivanchuk, whose age (56) made the mental strain of Board One too significant for such a tense event.
Crucially, the selection hinged on two Ihors: Ihor Kovalenko and Ihor Samunenkov. Kovalenko, remarkably, joined the team after three years serving in the military, having been awarded the “For Courage” medal. Beliavsky emphasized the importance of a pre-tournament training match between Kovalenko and the young Ihor Samunenkov, a move that proved vital in restoring the former soldier`s technical sharpness and accelerating the latter`s preparation.
A Strategy of Spirit and Stability
With Ukraine ranked ninth heading into the championship, expectations were low, making the gold medal unexpected. The coaches relied not on overpowering Elo ratings, but on fighting spirit—a quality Mikhalchishin likened to the Armenian teams that secured three Olympiad wins through sheer collective will.
The roles were strictly defined: Alexander Ponomariov, a World Champion, provided absolute stability on the top board, managing to draw all his games (though, with a touch of technical irony, he missed winning positions twice). Andrei Volokitin and Anton Korobov formed the reliable core of the team, tasked with holding the middle boards, while the two Ihors were designated as the primary sources of wins.
Coaching extended beyond opening preparation. Mikhalchishin, citing the wisdom of Soviet great Mikhail Botvinnik, instituted daily one-hour walks—a practice he dubbed “tanking oxygen”—to boost team morale and physical endurance. While Beliavsky managed the crucial administrative tasks (line-ups and protocol), the synergy between the veterans ensured every player was mentally prepared, even when dealing with external disruptions. Mikhalchishin wryly mentioned his need to limit Volokitin`s preparation: “His analyses are always 40 moves long!”
The Decisive Moves on the Board
The Ukrainian team delivered decisive victories against higher-rated opponents. Their exceptional technical play was validated by the coaches` analysis, who noted the team found itself in only two bad positions throughout the entire event. The key game was Andrei Volokitin`s dynamic victory over Matthias Blübaum, showcasing the team`s aggressive intentions.
Kovalenko’s confidence was another critical factor. Prior to playing Grandmaster Loek van Wely, Kovalenko simply stated: “I just need to get through the opening. I know what to do afterwards.” And he won brilliantly. The success was a textbook case of leveraging “winner`s memory”—the ingrained confidence of players who have previously tasted victory in major team events.
Chess on the Home Front: Surviving the Unthinkable
The geopolitical context provided a jarring backdrop. While the team was celebrating in Batumi, the war’s grim reality dictated daily life back home. Mikhalchishin detailed the harassment faced by players like Natalia Zhukova and Igor Glek at the Georgian border, resolved only through the intervention of the local federation president.
Life in Ukraine is characterized by air-raid alerts, destruction, and daily blackouts that can last over twelve hours. International tournaments have vanished, replaced by small local festivals and junior events. The once-famous Lviv GM club, which boasted 23 grandmasters, now struggles to organize small blitz tournaments with four or five participants. The coaches confirmed a harrowing truth: while no grandmasters have been killed, the war has claimed the lives of 40 to 50 Ukrainian chess players, trainers, and juniors.
This success, therefore, is not merely a sports headline. It is a vital symbol of national resilience. High-level state celebrations are planned, and the players have been nominated for state medals, recognizing that in wartime, even a triumph on the 64 squares can provide immense cultural and political value.
As the coaches look to the future, the complexity of their position remains stark. Mikhalchishin pointed to the failure of the Budapest Memorandum signatories (the US, UK, and Russia) to guarantee Ukraine’s borders after the surrender of its nuclear arsenal—a heavy geopolitical anchor weighing down every sporting success. Yet, through hardship, the Ukrainian chess team proved that their fighting spirit remains unbroken, turning a game of calculated strategy into a powerful, unyielding national statement.
