What it’s like to be a Russian at the Russia-shunned Olympics: ‘I think they forgot about me’

by Admin
What it’s like to be a Russian at the Russia-shunned Olympics: ‘I think they forgot about me’

Evgenii Somov, competinig as an Individual Neutral Athlete, prepares to compete in a heat of the men’s 100m breaststroke. (Jonathan Nackstrand/AFP via Getty Images)

PARIS — In Lane 1, “representing AIN,” Evgenii Somov is alone.

He struts onto a pool deck at Paris La Défense Arena, but his white-and-teal jacket bears no insignia; his pitch-black swim cap has no flag; his nation, he says with a grin, when asked about the reception he’s received from countrymen back home, “kind of forgot about me.”

He is the only Russian swimmer at these Russia-shunned Olympics, and to get here, he had to wander through a maze of bureaucracy and eligibility conditions. He had to pay his own way, with some help from a GoFundMe. He had to scramble for a visa, by mailing his passport to a French Embassy in Washington, D.C.

But he made it here to Paris earlier this week, and posed with his American coach in front of the Olympic rings.

“I’m enjoying myself no matter what,” Somov said Saturday. Never mind that he has no teammates and, according to Olympic organizers, no country.

Officially, Somov, 25, is an “Individual Neutral Athlete,” one of a few dozen at the 2024 Games.

But when fellow athletes at the Olympic Village ask where he’s from, “I tell them straight up,” he said.

He is from St. Petersburg, Russia’s second-largest city, where he grew as a swimmer, and where he lived through his teens.

He then represented his country at junior worlds and European championships. He aimed for the Olympics. At the urging of his father, though, he also took English-language summer programs in the United States. At 18, he linked up with a Russian coach at the University of Louisville, and moved across the pond to swim collegiately. After exhausting his eligibility, in 2022, he packed up and moved even further west, to the Bay Area, where he still lives today.

He also stopped swimming in 2022. He had missed out on the 2021 Tokyo Olympics. He felt unmotivated; done.

But he stayed connected to the sport as a coach. This past winter, he dove back in as a competitor, on a whim. He blew away his own expectations, and suddenly, the Olympics re-entered his mind as an ambition. I have nothing to lose, he thought. So he went for it.

There was, though, a complication: The Olympics had rejected Russia, as punishment for Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. Athletes were allowed to enter as “neutrals,” but only if they did not support the war; and only if they had no ties to the Russian military; and only if they agreed to wear the white-and-teal uniform, accompanied by the “AIN” flag; and on the condition that they couldn’t march in the Opening Ceremony.

Russia, in turn, decrying “discrimination” (or worse), turned on the Olympics. Even many athletes who were eligible declined invitations. Under pressure from authorities and the public, entire teams boycotted. Just 15 Russian athletes are at these Games.

And Somov, an ocean and a continent away from home, realized that his path to Paris would have to be a solo one.

A woman holds a sign with the text “Bloody olympics” during a march in memory of the hundreds of Ukrainian athletes killed since the Russian invasion of the Ukraine. (Remon Haazen/Getty Images)

He has a coach, Oakland native Piankhi Gibson. But “I’m my own manager,” Somov said.

In May, he hit the Olympic qualifying standard for the 100-meter breaststroke at a meet in Atlanta. He then had two months to check a bunch of other boxes. He sent some emails. He made some calls. The first step was applying for neutral status with swimming’s global governing body, World Aquatics. Next, he had to get similar clearance from the International Olympic Committee — which had established a three-person panel to review each applicant’s eligibility.

When asked what the review process entailed, and whether he was interviewed about his views on the war, Somov said: “No comments.”

That was his response to any question that strayed too far toward politics.

He did, though, pose with IOC president Thomas Bach holding a sign that read: “GIVE PEACE A CHANCE.”

His eligibility was confirmed by the IOC earlier this month. After securing his visa, and his fourth of four required pre-Games drug tests, he arrived in Paris earlier this week, and received his AIN uniform — including “a backpack, sneakers, everything,” he said. He moved into Olympic Village, where he’s living with tennis players — who make up almost half of the 15-strong Russian AIN delegation.

It is tough, Somov acknowledged, to not live the experience with countrymen in his sport. “I would rather be here with my team, with teammates, live in a building with all of the people, hanging out, doing networking, just seeing the famous cool people,” he said. “I miss that.”

But he’s seen fellow swimmers from other nations, friends from the European circuit, acquaintances from his NCAA days.

And in general, although he missed out on the 100 butterfly final, he said: “It’s a great experience. I’m hanging out with the best athletes in the world.”

He, unlike them, is not representing something bigger than himself. He said he has not received much of a response from everyday Russians. Most of them can’t watch him — because the Games are not even being shown on TV.

But his mother traveled to Paris; he could hear her in the crowd Saturday. (He made it to the semifinals in the 100 breaststroke, but fell short of qualifying for the finals.) And, despite some Ukrainian-led animosity towards Russian AINs, he feels included in these Olympics.

“I mean, I talk to everybody,” he said. “Nobody really judging me by my passport.”



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