Today Fedor could have turned 65. I once played on the same team as him. In Sochi, at a journalists’ tournament. Each team was allowed to bring two former professionals; we invited Spartak players Fedor Cherenkov and Vagiz Khidiyatullin. And according to the schedule, we were supposed to play against the Ukrainians, for whom the incomparable Dynamo Kyiv players Ivan Yaremchuk and Andrey Bal came out.
Igor Kots.
Cherenkov is with us!
Khidya was not completely healthy after yesterday. Fedia also seemed to be sleepy. They wandered around the field responding to the cheers of the fans and slowly passed the ball if it came to them. And the fresh Yaremchuk broke my lead (I had the sad luck to protect the fastest midfielder in the USSR) and soon scored. Then again…
I clearly remember the moment when I turned around… no, it’s not a game. The world has turned upside down. At that moment Cherenkov remembered who he was playing against. And, most importantly, who was losing. And the veteran, relaxed during the holidays, suddenly appeared like a monster.
Or a genius.
It is impossible to describe it in words. I have played street football all my life. But in that clearing in Sochi I suddenly saw that football was not at all the game I knew. Opening my mouth, I, who had suddenly become the odd man out on the field, watched in amazement as a supernatural mystery happened next to me, metres away, every second. Fabulous feints, magical passes, divine combinations, five calibrated moves ahead…
At first Cherenkov seemed sleepy… Photo: Igor Kots.
Fedor is finished!
“Spartak” – “Dynamo” (kyiv). Bullfight. A fair battle between sworn friends on the field and real friends off it. What the hell are journalists…?
Spectators rushed to our place from all sides. Here they were seriously cutting, to the bone, from end to end, selling out, as it happened in the packed stadiums of Moscow and kyiv. In the last minute, Fedor scored three or four, scooped the ball onto Vagiz’s aching head and scored the winning goal…
Cherenkov (standing on the far left) and Khidiyatullin (standing on the right) in our amateur team. Photo: Igor Kots.
Then the whistle blew and Fedor suddenly became like the rest of us. A slightly overweight man in a fan uniform. He sank to the ground. A football god with bottomless, ever-sad eyes.
