Waiting for a Tree to Grow Over the Remains of the Past

Oleg Salenko was not widely known among football fans until he received the Golden Boot at the 1994 World Cup. When the United States hosted the tournament for the first time, two players from Eastern Europe took home FIFA’s top scorer award. Alongside Salenko was Hristo Stoichkov of Bulgaria. Both scored six goals for their national teams throughout the competition.

Born to a Ukrainian father and a Russian mother, Salenko began his international journey with the Soviet Union U-20 team in 1989. He played in the U-20 World Cup and became the tournament’s top scorer with five goals. Until last year, he remained the only footballer to be top scorer in both junior and senior World Cups. He is also the only Golden Boot winner whose national team failed to pass the group stage.

Salenko appeared in only nine international matches. Eight of them were with Russia in the World Cup, including the iconic Russia vs Cameroon match where he scored five goals in a single game, helping Russia win 6–1. His previous appearance was a friendly for Ukraine against Hungary in 1992, where Ukraine lost 1–3 in its first FIFA-recognized match. Injuries forced Salenko into early retirement at the age of 31.

Roots Pulled Apart

Why did Salenko leave Ukraine to join the Sbornaya, the Russian national team? Much like naturalized players today, Salenko could join either country because he held dual citizenship through his parents. At the time, Russia offered stronger football infrastructure than most post-Soviet countries, including Ukraine. From a career perspective, choosing Russia felt like the path with greater promise.

Long before football infrastructure gaps emerged among former communist states in the late 1990s, Russia, Ukraine, and other Slavic nations like Bulgaria, Serbia, Macedonia, and the Czech Republic shared one cultural root. Their ancestors lived in plains, forests, and wetlands. They were farmers and herders who spent much of their time outdoors. Their lifestyle shaped strong physical resilience passed down through generations. 

Illustration: private collection

That strength made early Slavs unafraid of conflicts that often ended in bloodshed. Their mythology reflects this outlook. Many Slavic tales describe shrubs and wildflowers growing from the blood or bodies of those who died for their beliefs, whether personal principles or collective interests.

Serbian folklore says white peonies turned red from the blood of Serbian soldiers who fell in the Battle of Kosovo. Black peonies grew from the blood of Roma soldiers, while blue peonies came from the blood of fighters of Turkish descent. Bulgarian myths say that lilacs grew from the blood of warriors, which is why the flower is often found near old fortresses or open fields where major battles once took place.

Russian belief holds that fireweed grows from the blood of victims of wrongdoing. A Kuban Cossack legend tells of roses growing from the blood of a young woman who took her own life after being forcibly separated from her lover.

A Past Buried, Then Growing Again

If the blood or body of someone who has died represents something lost and gone forever, then the past is the closest comparison. Everyone has a past. So do ethnic groups, nations, and entire states.

The Slavic ancestors viewed what is gone and will not return as something “beautiful,” like colorful flowers. Our past often feels like that. Beautiful to retell, yet carrying a quiet ache each time the story is remembered. In many stories, loss remains inevitable even when the people in those stories try to preserve what they cherish.

Traditional values, local wisdom, and customs are often dismissed as symbols of a bygone era. People say they should be abandoned because they do not belong in modern life and do not advance human civilization.

But through the context of Slavic ancestors, the past may never return, yet something will always grow from what has decayed. What grows is not only small shrubs or wildflowers but also a tree. One tree can be followed by two, three, ten, or a hundred, depending on how many “remains of the past” lie buried beneath the battleground of civilization. (dswas)