Society

At Kyiv's Lokomotyv stadium, the game goes on despite the ruins

After a missile strike leveled its facilities, a century-old stadium has become a living emblem of resilience as children keep training amid the wreckage.

Lukyan Slobodyanyuk has been playing soccer after classes for several years. He hardly notices the ruins behind him; the team and the game matter more. Kyiv, Ukraine. November 2025. [Olha Chepil/Kontur]
Lukyan Slobodyanyuk has been playing soccer after classes for several years. He hardly notices the ruins behind him; the team and the game matter more. Kyiv, Ukraine. November 2025. [Olha Chepil/Kontur]

By Olha Chepil |

On a Kyiv soccer field ringed by shattered walls and twisted metal, children chase the ball as if the stadium around them never took a direct hit from a Russian cruise missile.

Lokomotyv stadium's roof is gone, its locker rooms flattened, its century-old halls reduced to rubble. But every afternoon, whistles, shouts and the thud of cleats return -- a routine restored just three days after the blast.

On January 23, 2024, a missile pierced the roof of the administrative building and exploded inside, destroying equipment, offices, a children's gym and an underground training space used as a shelter. The structure folded, leaving only fragments of walls and metal. Residents walking past each morning still see the wreckage, a reminder of the war just beyond the stadium fence.

A blow, not a stop

The strike killed 71-year-old athlete and doctor Mikhail Donskoy, a two-time European powerlifting champion training in the underground gym at the time.

Many children have relocated to Kyiv from eastern regions near the front line, increasing the number of young players seeking training. Kyiv, Ukraine. November 2025. [Olha Chepil/Kontur]
Many children have relocated to Kyiv from eastern regions near the front line, increasing the number of young players seeking training. Kyiv, Ukraine. November 2025. [Olha Chepil/Kontur]
Ukrainian soccer player Bohdan Kondratyuk works as a coach at Lokomotyv. He noted that conditions became less comfortable after the missile strike but emphasized that the field survived -- and that alone is enough to keep training. Kyiv, Ukraine. November 2025. [Olha Chepil/Kontur]
Ukrainian soccer player Bohdan Kondratyuk works as a coach at Lokomotyv. He noted that conditions became less comfortable after the missile strike but emphasized that the field survived -- and that alone is enough to keep training. Kyiv, Ukraine. November 2025. [Olha Chepil/Kontur]
Andrey Mocharsky drives his son Matvey to practice from Fastiv -- more than 70 kilometers (about 43 miles) from Kyiv. He believes that even after the missile strike, Lokomotyv remains one of the strongest youth soccer academies in Ukraine. Kyiv, Ukraine. November 2025. [Olha Chepil/Kontur]
Andrey Mocharsky drives his son Matvey to practice from Fastiv -- more than 70 kilometers (about 43 miles) from Kyiv. He believes that even after the missile strike, Lokomotyv remains one of the strongest youth soccer academies in Ukraine. Kyiv, Ukraine. November 2025. [Olha Chepil/Kontur]

For families on the field, the shock was immediate.

"That missile strike was a huge shock for me. My son was in the junior soccer group at the time, and our coach lives nearby, in an adjacent residential building. Both his car and his balcony got hit," Darya Slobodyanyuk told Kontur.

Her son, 9-year-old Lukyan, remembered hearing the explosion at breakfast and learning practice was canceled.

"Mom and I were very worried about the coach. He lives across from the stadium. It was scary," he said.

The coach escaped injury, and once debris was cleared, practices returned.

"The stadium was cleaned up a bit, and we immediately started training again," Lukyan said. "They just told us that there are no locker rooms. They were destroyed by the bombing. Now we change clothes in the stands, but that's okay."

Despite the loss of all indoor facilities, teams kept their schedule. A single outdoor toilet now serves everyone, but players rotate through practices well into the evening.

"We practice from 4:30 pm to 6:00 pm, and then the next team, the senior players, comes in," Lukyan said. "Practice can go until 11:00 pm. There are a lot of guys. Because of the war, many have come from Kharkov, Dnipro and from eastern cities."

During air raids, children shelter in a nearby residential building's parking garage -- a routine now executed without hesitation.

Life amid the ruins

Hundreds of children, from toddlers to teens, continue to train at the Lokomotyv Academy despite conditions that would shut down most sports facilities.

Coach Bohdan Kondratyuk, who leads the 2014 and 2019 squads, said he watched the children regain their footing almost immediately.

"The important thing is that there's a field. There is soccer. Life goes on and that's their top priority," he told Kontur.

Families travel from beyond Kyiv to be here.

Parent Andrey Mocharsky, who brings his son Matvey from the suburbs twice a week, said the devastation never deterred players.

"Life is in full swing. These ruins have no effect, although they are clearly visible from all sides, no matter where you are on the field," he told Kontur.

"There definitely aren't fewer kids," he added. "When there was no electricity, we used flashlights. Everything around was bombed out. But everyone keeps training."

For many, the field has become a stabilizing force.

"For my child, soccer is life," Slobodyanyuk said. "All the children are very strong, they're moving toward their goals, and they see nothing but victory. And that motivates us to keep moving forward as well."

Psychologists note that routine helps children cope with stress, but families here also show a collective refusal to let war dictate daily life.

"What's our morale like? We can't stop, no matter how that sounds. We're working, and our club is growing even in times like these. Life goes on," Kondratyuk said.

Looking to rebuild

Lokomotyv stadium, one of Kyiv's oldest sports venues, marks its 100th anniversary this year. It has produced dozens of Olympic medalists and hundreds of European and world champions. During the war, it has also become a hub for more than 1,500 students, including 350 displaced children.

Paris Mayor Anne Hidalgo, who visited Kyiv several times during the full-scale invasion, became a supporter of the club. Her efforts helped secure new uniforms, equipment, merchandise and a modern bus.

A major renovation, supported by the Howard Buffett Foundation, is in progress.

"Major reconstruction is planned," Slobodyanyuk said. "We've already made a small temporary field. We'll move there. And this stadium will be restored, including the locker rooms."

Plans call for a redesigned complex with a new field, locker rooms, updated stands, cafés, recreation spaces and an urban park.

"We already have posted banners about the reconstruction. It's being planned, and the stadium will be completely closed starting in December. There will be a different entrance, a new design. We are really looking forward to the update," Kondratyuk said.

For now, the battered field sustains the spirit of the place.

"I always remember that missile attack and how after it the children came to practice, and I had this feeling that our children are invincible. We continue to fight," Mocharsky said.

As long as the children keep showing up, families say, Lokomotyv will remain a symbol of Ukraine's resilience.

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