How a 16-year-old went from holding a rifle in Ukraine to a Michigan HS football team

GRAND RAPIDS − His childhood melted away, as Russian tanks rumbled across the border and bombs fell on Ukraine.

Hlib Kuzmenko, a 16-year-old with blond hair and crisp blue eyes, sat in a chair with a rifle across his lap, ready to shoot, prepared to defend his family. He faced the front door, afraid it would burst open; and then got up and peeked out the window on the lookout for tanks and soldiers.

Gripping the rifle.

“For three days,” he said.

Hlib Kuzmenko, 16, of Ukraine, listens in a physics class at Grand Rapids West Catholic High School on Wednesday, Sept. 7, 2022.

Kuzmenko is not a soldier. He was on a competitive rifle team that took second place in a district championship near Kyiv, but that was shooting at paper targets; this was entirely different.

“I was thinking, ‘what would I do?’ ” he said. “I was really nervous. I was ready to shoot and die with glory.”

In another area of Ukraine, Sofiia Lytvyniuk, a shy, quiet 13-year-old girl with fluorescent red hair, hid in a basement for two weeks, as the bombs rained down, blowing off roofs, knocking down walls and shattering her innocence. Her house crumbled around her but she stayed in it with her family. They were afraid of leaving and getting shot by the Russians. They had virtually no food and limited water, until the quiet came and her family sneaked to safety.

“A lot of shelling,” she said, her voice soft and sweet.

Sofiia Lytvyniuk, 12, center, works on a value identification project in Art 1 drawing class at the Grand Rapids West Catholic High School in Grand Rapids on Wednesday, Sept. 7, 2022.

In another area of Ukraine, Fedir Smyrnov, a 16-year-old boy with an easy smile, got in a car and his family headed for the border, a race for their lives.

“One time, we were driving and there were lots of police and they say, ‘go into the bushes, go into the bushes,’ ” he said. “By the road, there was lots of trees.”

He hid behind the trees with his family. There was talk of a bomb or maybe guns — it was all so confusing. “I was really scared,” he said.

These are the stories from the children of war.

What can we do for the children?

“I was reading in, I don’t know, in the Wall Street Journal or something about the lack of education options in the Ukraine and the bombing of the schools,” Cynthia Kneibel, the president and CEO of Grand Rapids West Catholic High School, said. “The kids that were refugees, they’re flooding Poland and some of the surrounding countries. And there isn’t education capacity. I was thinking, ‘well, we have a school, and we have capacity. Is there any way that we can reach out to educate these kids?’ ”

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She started making phone calls — West Catholic has a strong international program, pulling in more than 20 students a year from 10 countries.

More people got involved, more phone calls made. The Grand Rapids Diocese. The State Department. People on the ground in Ukraine. It turned into a domino effect of pure goodness and concern, ideas clicking together, falling just the right way. In a matter of weeks, an army of volunteers had formed, trying to help these children. Trying to pull some to safety.

And that is how four Ukrainian children got F-1 visas, flew to the Midwest, moved in with host families and are attending Grand Rapids West Catholic. Three of the four have already joined sports teams — one is playing football and two have joined the soccer team. Not because they are star athletes. Not because they came here for sports. But because they wanted to get involved. They wanted to feel part of this school. To make friends and feel normal again.

And isn’t that what high school sports should be about?

“I really don’t believe it,” Sviat Schut, 15, the fourth Ukrainian child, said.

Junior varsity soccer player Sviat Schut, left, and Fedir Smyrnov, center, both of Ukraine, practice with teammates before a game against Allendale at the Grand Rapids West Catholic High School on Wednesday, Sept. 7, 2022.

He sat in a chair in a classroom at West Catholic, wearing a school uniform, looking like every other student at the school, like he belonged, unable to contain his smile.

“It doesn’t feel real,” he said, his eyes dancing. “Yeah. It’s like a child’s dreams.”

This is not a story about war. It’s a story about the generosity and goodness of strangers.

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Friday night lights

Think about the transition.

One day, Kuzmenko was in a war zone, driving past burned-out buildings and looking at the debris of war.

“So much angry fighting,” he said.

The embassy was closed in Ukraine, so he had to go to Poland to get the proper paperwork to travel to the U.S.

A few weeks later, he was plopped into what felt like a scene from “Friday Night Lights.” It was the first weekend in September. Lights glowed over the football field and fans were starting to fill the stands.

Kuzmenko stood on the sideline, as the West Catholic varsity football team was getting ready to play Ferndale.

“Before you joined this team, had you ever seen football?” I asked him on the sideline.

“Only in the movies,” he said. “Small parts.”

The pregame warmup was done and Kuzmenko followed his teammates to a cramped locker room. He took a seat on a bench, as the Rev. John Vallier gave the pregame prayer.

“Give us the abilities to be used for each other,” Vallier said. “We don’t think of just ourselves. Help us to stay focused.”

At that time, Kuzmenko had been in the United States for about two weeks. He had started practicing with West Catholic but wasn’t allowed to suit up in a game because he didn’t have enough practices wearing pads.

He wore shorts and a jersey, still treated like a member of the team.

“Don’t for one second take for granted how special it is to go suit up with your boys,” first-year coach Landon Grove said in a pregame speech. “Every single opportunity you get is the last one you’re guaranteed. Last one you are guaranteed.”

Kuzmenko reached into his locker and pulled out a folded Ukraine flag. He got it earlier this summer before Ukraine beat Scotland, 3-1, in the World Cup qualifier, and it was the first thing he packed before heading to Grand Rapids.

Grand Rapids West Catholic football player Hlib Kuzmenko of Ukraine, holds a Ukrainian flag in his hands as he waits for the pre-game prayer in the locker room before a game at Ferndale on Thursday, Sept. 1, 2022.

“We outwork everyone in the state,” Grove said. “We’ve earned the right to be the No. 1 team in Division 6. Week 1, I said we got to fight. Week 2, I want to dominate. I want to dominate for four quarters. No letup, OK? No surrender.”

No surrender? Kuzmenko knows something about that. He is proud of how his country has fought, proud of president Volodymyr Zelenskyy, proud of the Ukrainian resolve.

Grove finished his speech and the players bounced up and started screaming and pounding shoulder pads. They strapped on their helmets and marched toward the door.

Kuzmenko draped the Ukrainian flag over his shoulders like a cape. He grabbed the hand of a teammate, and they all walked up the sidewalk, side by side, marching toward the field.

He was part of the team now. It was like watching somebody get swept up in a river of Americana, all the pageantry and emotion and school spirit.

“Incredible,” he said. “It’s some different feeling that I cannot explain.”

It was Labor Day weekend, but West Catholic students filled two pep buses and traveled across the state; and those kids started cheering, as the football team entered the stadium.

“Start playing, boys!” somebody shouted.

The team stopped on the track on the edge of the field. The players crouched down, rocking back and forth, as the leaders stood in front and started shouting. “Let’s go get it!”

They ran through a line of cheerleaders as a horn went off, and Kuzmenko followed right along.

If you could capture the power of high school sports in one moment, how it can bring together teenagers, in this case, from different parts of the world, how it teaches lessons about team and brotherhood and hard work and shared vision, how the best of teams accept everyone, it was on display as Kuzmenko ran onto that field with his new teammates.

How freakin’ cool.

When they played the “Star Spangled Banner” before the game, Kuzmenko stood at attention, showing respect to the U.S., while standing with that Ukrainian flag over his shoulders.

It was like he was stuck between worlds.

Honoring both.

Respecting both.

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‘Yeah, because it’s like a bomb shelter’

Noreen Duba and her husband, Don, were empty nesters for less than two days. They have five girls, all of whom went through West Catholic, and after taking the youngest to college, saw an email that went out: Can anybody host a child from Ukraine?

They jumped at it.

Just like the three other host families.

“That’s the West Catholic DNA,” Don said.

Kuzmenko is staying in the Dubas’ basement bedroom.

“After the first night, I asked him, ‘Are you comfortable in there?’ ” Noreen, a West Catholic cross-country coach, said. “There’s four bedrooms upstairs, nobody lives here anymore. And he said, ‘yeah, because it’s like a bomb shelter.’ He felt safe. So he liked the bedroom in the basement.”

Yes, he is safe now.

But the war seeps out of him at different times.

“On the first Saturday they were here, there was a storm and when the thunder hit, he just about flew off the couch,” Noreen said.

And he was startled the first time he heard a cicada, the bizarre-looking flying insects.

“We were sitting on the deck going over his schedule after the first day of school, asking him how school was,” she said.

Kuzmenko heard the cicadas and thought it was an aerial assault.

He had grown used to strange sounds at night.

“Imagine going out at 12 o’clock at night,” he said. “In Ukraine, we almost live in the forest and we go out, and it’s fully dark, and you hear some shootings and you know that there are air sirens in your region.”

He has a wonderful personality.

“He’s a rock star,” Noreen said. “He’s excruciatingly disciplined. He’s very intelligent.”

He has this star quality about him, like a future leader in training.

“He’s a rocket,” Don said. “His personality is phenomenal. And he’s very respectful. He opens doors for Noreen, gets up and washes his dishes immediately.”

He follows developments in Ukraine, showing his host family maps, explaining how different Russian advances can affect the food supply.

“We have a country offensive now in eastern Ukraine,” he said. “We don’t have enough heavy weapons, which we have been asking to give us for a long, long time.”

One day, he hopes to join the military.

“I’m thinking, he’s so far ahead of our kids worrying about what they’re gonna wear to homecoming,” Noreen said.

‘It feels like I grew old’

These four children are safe now because some amazing people came together and pulled them to safety; and those people should be commended.

The four Ukrainian children are getting the full American experience: Friday night football games, soccer matches, art class, a full day of school and trips Up North on weekends.

They are safe, even as they worry about friends and family.

Countless children remain in Ukraine.

Schut pulled out his cellphone and showed me a video from one of his friends.

As the video rolled, the frame was filled by her worried face, as explosions went off in the background.

“Bombs,” he said, softly.

The girl looked petrified, as the video ran.

“It’s really bad,” he said.

Kuzmenko struggled with guilt about leaving Ukraine.

“I want to be a military in the future. And I felt like I was betraying my country,” he said.

But his mother talked him into leaving. If something happens to his parents, Kuzmenko must care for his sister.

Grand Rapids West Catholic football player Hlib Kuzmenko of Ukraine wears a Ukrainian flag over his shoulder standing on the sideline ahead of a game against Ferndale High School in Ferndale on Thursday, Sept. 1, 2022.

“I’m pretty nervous for my parents, for my country,” he said. “For all those bombings and the people who die now.”

Anyone who has ever been in a war zone knows a certain truth: No one is ever the same.

Not even the children who have been pulled out.

“It feels,” Kuzmenko said, slowly, “like I grew old.”

Contact Jeff Seidel: jseidel@freepress.com. Follow him on Twitter @seideljeff. To read his recent columns, go to www.freep.com/sports/jeff-seidel.

This article originally appeared on Detroit Free Press: From holed up in Ukraine to a Michigan high school football team