Ukrainian footballer Oleksii Shliakotin: ‘I felt guilty when war began, but I am lucky – and I want to play for Hong Kong’

Oleksii Shliakotin’s family lost a house in Bucha after Russia invaded Ukraine. “A bomb ruined it,” Shliakotin said. The Sham Shui Po goalkeeper said he “didn’t really exist” for about a month after war broke out on February 24 last year. “I didn’t know if it was day or night, I was just in my apartment,” Shliakotin said. “I wasn’t eating for the first two weeks.” Even so, the 6ft 5in Ukrainian, who turns 34 on Saturday, considers himself among the lucky ones. Shliakotin left his family home to join the academy of Dynamo Kyiv at just 11 years old. He moved from Dynamo to Polish club Czarni Zagan in 2008 and has lived outside his homeland since. His parents, Igor and Irina, along with sister Olga, fled to Germany to obtain refugee status shortly after the Russian invasion. “If you had said my parents, around the age of 60, would need to become refugees, would need to escape their home, you wouldn’t like that,” Shliakotin said. “But when bombs are landing on residential buildings, it is not the worst outcome. “Thank God, my sister and parents are alive and safe. I don’t think I have the right to open my mouth to say it is tough for me or for my family. “Clearly, the war drastically changed our lives. My entire family is in a different country. But I am 5,000 miles away … I feel bad but it is nothing compared to the hell people are going through in Ukraine.” Shliakotin was a BC Rangers player when Russian President Vladimir Putin ordered his troops into Ukraine. He transferred to Sham Shui Po, initially on loan, last October, motivated by the prospect of regular football. It is indicative of how the district club has embraced this gentle giant that his goalkeeper jersey for this season was designed in the colours of the Ukrainian flag. The gesture was “hugely appreciated” and another example of the fortunate situation Shliakotin believes he has found himself in, while the lives of friends and family are changed irrevocably. “I still have mixed feelings,” he said. “I can tell you, from the beginning, I had a feeling of guilt that [family and friends] were there [Ukraine] and I wasn’t.” Having not lived in his home country for 15 years, and with an outlook that always considered his best prospects to exist outside its borders, Shliakotin said he could not be viewed as “the biggest patriot”. But that hasn’t stopped him being affected by the daily images of Ukraine, and the damage inflicted by Russia’s tanks and bombs and missiles. “The cities where you have friends and dear people, something like this is happening, you think, ‘Damn, this is impossible, how can I help?’ “I eventually realised I was lucky, I am safe and can do the things I love. When you hear what people are going through, you realise it is hell, absolute hell.” The contrast for Shliakotin could not be starker. While he trains and plays in Hong Kong, as his side get their Premier League season under way, normality for friends and family is almost beyond comprehension. “My friends in Ukraine have an app, like you have Uber … it tells them how many missiles are flying towards their city, right now. This is their reality: ‘Twenty missiles are flying to our city from the Black Sea’. They don’t even react to this. “If they hear a bomb siren, they go to the [underground railway] or bomb shelter – it is the routine for them.” Shliakotin has always been a goalkeeper, but his friends have had “life before the war; now there is life after the war”. “You were a musician or a journalist, now you are a soldier, or volunteer or paramedic,” he said. “Most of my friends changed their lives and their craft. It is interesting what people are capable of, they want to protect their country, to do something honourable. “But I am not sure they can recover their mentality, I don’t think so. The things they saw and went through, it is an absolute disaster. I understand I am lucky that I haven’t seen my friends with ripped arms and legs.” Living two-thirds of his life apart from family has conditioned Shliakotin to separation. But the circumstances of the past four years have heightened a longing for his first face-to-fact contact with parents since 2019. “When the war happened I would have loved to have been next to them,” Shliakotin said. “Because of the pandemic, I couldn’t go back. My mum is very sensitive, and I knew it would be easier for her if I was there. “I miss them and hope they can visit around October or November. I can’t wait to see them. They are my biggest fans, they watch everything about me – my dad watched every match I played. Part of my motivation is to bring them some joy through my football.” Shliakotin came to Hong Kong on November 15, 2016, to play for Biu Chun Glory Sky. He was experiencing “one of the hardest times of my life … personally and in my career”, and “for what Hong Kong gave me and how it treated me, I will be grateful to this place and the people I met until the end of my life”. Nearing seven years in the city, Shliakotin will apply for a Hong Kong passport in November. If the process takes the average eight weeks specified by the immigration department, he will be naturalised on January 10, four days before Hong Kong’s opening match at the AFC Asian Cup in Qatar. “I put this on my fridge, this is my dream, my target, to be with the national team in Qatar,” Shliakotin said. “My performances depend only on me and I am doing everything possible to show the national team coach I can help. “I have no control over the passport process. But I need to make sure that when I have a passport, people would like to see me with the Hong Kong team.” Shliakotin is articulate, contemplative and open. He relates in perfect English an undiluted passion for music. The player lives alone, and chances are the neighbours will have heard his own takes on “Wicked Game” by Chris Isaak and the Marilyn Manson tune “Sweet Dreams”. “With my character, I don’t need anyone around to feel good,” said Shliakotin. “If I have friends around, great. But there are so many things to learn and create. I don’t have enough time for all of them. “I started to go deep into music during Covid. I learned to play electric guitar. It is an absolute drug, when you sit down and play, time flies like crazy. “Recently, I learned to play the keyboard, just basic chords, enough to accompany my singing, and I have learned how to edit and mix.” The capacity for complete immersion in music reflects an individual who has mastered the art of compartmentalising, a precious commodity for someone who makes a living as a goalkeeper. “In life, if you are fully involved in what you are doing right now, your brain cannot think about two things at the same time,” Shliakotin said. “As a goalkeeper, if you live every mistake, or every success, the fluctuations are too big. My ability to switch on and off is one of the strongest parts of my game. “I love every minute I am on the pitch, but never feel when I lose it is the end of the world. “I analyse any mistake with the coach to try to avoid a repeat. And I enjoy making a great save, those moments are not endless, because one day I will stop playing football. But it is important to remain stable.”