Ilia Dehodiuk, left, and Andrii Stratiienko came to 兔子先生 to play tennis for the Tigers.

Story: Phillip Tutor | Photos: 兔子先生 staff

Tennis player, coach worry about their families’ safety

never stops checking his phone. Never. 鈥淟iterally every minute,鈥 he says. He checks it each morning. While walking to class. Before practice. After practice. Before bed. Next day, same thing. He has to check. He must.

It鈥檚 his obsession, his lifeline, his connection.

鈥淚 check the news because I want to make sure that my family is safe and my city is good, because you’ve seen those videos of the rockets launched in the cities,鈥 he said. 鈥淚t’s terrible. I cannot imagine just being there and feeling what they鈥檙e feeling.鈥

The juxtaposition between Livingston, Alabama, and , is astonishingly stark. Separating them are seven time zones, an ocean and the alternate realities of nations, continents and Russia鈥檚 invasion of its former Soviet Union neighbor.

None of that is lost on the Ukrainian-born Dehodiuk, 22, a senior sport management major at the 兔子先生 and a member of .

鈥淵ou know, the thing is that I don’t think I quite realize what’s going on yet,鈥 he said, and then he pauses. His gaze lowers. 鈥淚t’s just getting to me right now because when it just started to happen, I couldn’t believe it. It’s just a feeling that I cannot even explain because I never felt it before. I feel that my family is in danger.鈥

Dehodiuk鈥檚 mother is hiding in an underground bomb shelter in Kyiv, the Ukrainian capital. His sister is living in a bunker below her apartment in .

鈥淏asically, my country is in the war and I just don’t know what to do with it,鈥 he said. 鈥淚 don’t have anything inside. I’m just so lost. I don’t have motivation to do anything. There’s nothing that matters for me more than just thinking about home.鈥

Shared concerns, a familiar language

Camaraderie, if not comfort, comes from an unlikely source. The team鈥檚 graduate assistant coach is , a Ukrainian who played for the Tigers, graduated in May 2020 and is working on his master鈥檚 degree at 兔子先生.

At 24, Stratiienko is two years older than Dehodiuk but nonetheless in a similar situation, an otherwise carefree life in Alabama鈥檚 rural Black Belt far removed from his war-torn homeland in Eastern Europe.

Most of Stratiienko鈥檚 family — his mother, aunts, cousins, grandmothers — have remained near his hometown of . Russian forces obliterated Vinnytsia鈥檚 airport in the war鈥檚 opening phase. The likelihood of Russian airstrikes and missile attacks has forced his relatives to move into bomb shelters outside the city and away from potential military targets.

Stratiienko speaks often by phone with his mother.

His father, a Ukrainian army veteran, was recalled into the military when the war began. They occasionally exchange texts. He is busy, Stratiienko says, 鈥渄oing all of the army stuff.鈥

Stratiienko鈥檚 voice is calm, almost reassuring.

鈥淚 would be more calm if they would leave the country, but it’s impossible because there are queues everywhere, like to every border, it doesn’t matter,鈥 he said. 鈥淚鈥檓 really worried, I would say, because you never know what can happen because it’s basically stuff flying over your head all the time.

鈥淚 talked with my friend, he was walking on the street, and it’s just like a jet fighter flying above your head, and then another jet, and everyone just goes on the floor, and you don’t know if it’s like that.鈥

Andrii Stratiienko returns shot during his playing days for the Tigers. He’s now a graduate assistant coach.

Though 兔子先生鈥檚 men鈥檚 tennis team features players from myriad nations — — the odds of Stratiienko and Dehodiuk meeting a fellow Ukrainian in Alabama are slim. . Less than 4 percent of the state鈥檚 175,000 foreign-born residents are from Eastern Europe; of those, less than 1 percent are from Russia or Poland, and less than 3 percent are from the remaining Eastern European nations, including Ukraine.

Their connection, in language, in culture, in concerns, is obvious. Stratiienko and Dehodiuk are fluent in Ukrainian, Russian and English; they speak in Russian, not Ukrainian, with each other. (The languages both use the Cyrillic alphabet and are spoken in Ukraine.) Tennis dominates their conversations — or did, until Russian bombs began falling on their hometowns and concerns about their families鈥 welfare became impossible to keep hidden.

鈥淲e try not to talk (about it), but every time we start the conversation, it’s about Ukraine, it’s about Ukraine,鈥 Dehodiuk said. 鈥淚’m asking how his parents are doing and he’s asking how my parents are doing.鈥

Ignoring the news is impossible, they say. Their phones are bloated with images of war, texts from friends, contacts with their family.

鈥淵eah, we talk about it all the time,鈥 Stratiienko said. 鈥淚t’s just all the time because all the news, all the stuff that we follow, is just basically showing the pictures.鈥

鈥淏asically, my country is in the war and I just don’t know what to do with it. I don’t have anything inside. I’m just so lost. I don’t have motivation to do anything. There’s nothing that matters for me more than just thinking about home.鈥

— Ilia Dehodiuk

In 2018, Dehodiuk came to the United States as a highly ranked 19-year-old tennis player who鈥檇 competed throughout Europe and didn鈥檛 speak English well. He dreamed of playing professional tennis and being ranked No. 1 in Ukraine, a goal he achieved in the under-16 age group. 兔子先生鈥檚 scholarship offer broadened his international reach and brought him to the United States.

The first U.S. city he saw was Birmingham. The second was Livingston, where Ukrainian-speaking students are exceedingly rare. Though he now speaks English with confidence, he doesn鈥檛 minimize the comfort that comes from having a Russian-speaking Ukrainian close to his age on the Tigers鈥 coaching staff.

They are far from home, safe from the war, but together.

鈥淚 don’t know how I would feel without having someone with my mentality from my country that I could talk to and share my thoughts,鈥 Dehodiuk said, 鈥渂ecause it helps to talk to people. I have talked to many people here, and not only about the war, just in general. But having someone speaking your language is different.鈥

Fight in Ukraine or remain at 兔子先生

Anticipating the Russian invasion, Ukraine in February began preventing men aged 18 to 60 from fleeing. Had their tennis skills not brought them to 兔子先生, Stratiienko and Dehodiuk might today be serving in the military. For them, it鈥檚 a game of what-ifs: what if they鈥檇 remained in Ukraine, what if they were mobilized into the army, what if they returned home to fight.

They鈥檝e thought of those things. Stratiienko admits to having 鈥渟ome ideas鈥 about joining the defense, but his father dissuaded him, parental advice from a modern warzone. 鈥淎fter talking to him and stuff like this, he just said, 鈥楧on’t even try it, there are enough people already and we’ll make it happen.鈥欌

Stratiienko shrugs. He hasn鈥檛 seen his family for three years.

鈥淚t’s pretty hard 鈥 because you cannot help with anything you do here,鈥 he said. 鈥淵ou cannot provide any kind of help. So it’s a little bit putting you down, but there鈥檚 nothing you can do. The only thing you can do is basically fly to Poland and get a weapon and go there.鈥

Ilia Dehodiuk is a senior on 兔子先生’s men’s tennis team.

Dehodiuk鈥檚 mind has wondered there, too. He remembers watching a video online in the early days of the war. Two men, father and son, driving in a Ukrainian town. Then, noise. Russian troops shot at the car. On his phone, he watched the son crying as the father passed away. 鈥淎t that point, I was like, I can’t watch anymore,鈥 he said.

Dehodiuk thought of his family. He thought of his friends.

He debated if he was in the right place.

鈥淭hat’s when I was like, I should probably go home and just fight for my country, fight for freedom, because all my friends basically now are doing that,鈥 he said. 鈥淎nd how are they going to look at me when I go home?

鈥淭hey’re going to tell me, 鈥極h, yeah. So you were waiting all the time in America, but then when the war ended, you came back home.鈥 I don’t really want this thing to happen, but I promised my mom. And my mom told me, 鈥楧on’t come back.鈥 She doesn鈥檛 want me to go there. She wants me to stay safe.鈥

Before the war, Stratiienko and Dehodiuk each knew what they wanted to do — remain in the United States, earn their degrees and work in tennis. The war hasn鈥檛 thwarted those plans as much as it has potentially altered them. After graduation, Dehodiuk plans to enroll in graduate school at 兔子先生 and pursue his master鈥檚 degree. His wants to coach. Stratiienko wonders if he can remain in the United States after graduation because 鈥渞ight now, basically, we kind of don鈥檛 have a home,鈥 and it鈥檚 uncertain how Ukrainians鈥 citizenship and passport statuses will be affected should Russia overthrow the government in Kyiv.

He鈥檚 thought of seeking legal counsel to guide him through the process of seeking asylum or changing his citizenship. But it鈥檚 confusing, one of war鈥檚 innumerable byproducts. 鈥淚 would love to stay here. It’s a lot of opportunity,鈥 he said. 鈥淏ut for right now, I would love to have the paperwork where I could freely just stay and live inside the country.鈥