I don't know how you can sleep at night peacefully when you know what's going on
On a clay court in Paris, two young women from nations at war will meet not merely as athletes but as living symbols of a conflict that has reshaped Europe since 2022. Marta Kostyuk of Ukraine has chosen speech — dedicating victories, describing missile strikes near her family home, demanding that the world not grow numb — while Russia's Mirra Andreeva has chosen silence, focusing only on the ball in front of her. Their semifinal at Roland Garros asks an ancient question sport has never fully answered: what does an individual owe the larger human story unfolding around them?
- A missile struck a building 100 meters from Kostyuk's family home in Kyiv just days before she walked onto the courts of Roland Garros, making her presence in Paris an act of defiance as much as athleticism.
- Andreeva's deliberate silence on the war — 'I really try to play against the ball that is coming at me' — has drawn sharp criticism from Ukrainian players who see neutrality itself as a political position.
- Russian player Diana Shnaider faces accusations of complicity after competing in a Gazprom-sponsored St. Petersburg event, with Ukrainian opponent Oliynykova invoking Nazi Germany in a comparison that has reverberated through the tournament.
- A potential all-Russian final on Saturday would intensify the geopolitical pressure already saturating the draw, forcing the sport's governing bodies and audiences to sit with a discomfort that no trophy ceremony can resolve.
- Despite the weight of history surrounding them, all four semifinalists — shaped by conflict, scarcity, or displacement — are competing with a hunger that may produce a first-time Grand Slam champion by Sunday.
The French Open women's semifinals arrive Thursday carrying a burden that extends far beyond tennis. Marta Kostyuk of Ukraine will face Mirra Andreeva of Russia on a Paris court while their countries remain locked in active war — a collision not only of athletic talent but of two fundamentally different answers to the question of what an athlete owes the world.
Kostyuk, 23, has become one of the most visible Ukrainian athletes willing to speak plainly about the invasion. After defeating compatriot Elina Svitolina in the quarterfinals, she described how a Russian missile struck a building just 100 meters from her family home in Kyiv. She has dedicated each of her Paris victories to Ukraine. "The biggest thing I can do is sit here and talk about it so more people can find out about it," she said. Andreeva, 19, has taken the opposite approach, deflecting every question about the war. There will be no handshake between them after the match — a stance Ukrainian players adopted when Russia's full-scale invasion began. The two already met at the Madrid Open final last month, where Kostyuk won 6-3, 7-5, claiming the biggest title of her career.
The geopolitical weight extends further. Should Kostyuk win and extend her 18-match clay-court winning streak, she could face Diana Shnaider of Russia in Saturday's final. Shnaider, who stunned world number one Aryna Sabalenko to reach her first Grand Slam semifinal, has become a focal point of controversy after competing in a St. Petersburg exhibition sponsored by Gazprom, Russia's state gas company. Her Ukrainian opponent in the third round compared the decision to performing for Nazi officers at a tournament organized by the builders of Auschwitz. Shnaider defended the choice as her only annual chance to play in front of her family, but has refused to address the war — prompting Kostyuk to ask, with undisguised frustration, how anyone aware of what is happening could have nothing to say.
Former Slovak player Daniela Hantuchova offered a quieter frame on BBC Radio 5 Live, describing how athletes from conflict-affected regions develop an extraordinary hunger — "when you have war behind your courtyard and you know sport is the only way to escape." All four semifinalists carry that hunger. But the tournament's deeper narrative has already been written by forces far larger than any of them.
The French Open women's semifinals arrive Thursday carrying a weight that has nothing to do with tennis. Marta Kostyuk of Ukraine will face Mirra Andreeva of Russia on a court in Paris while their nations remain locked in active conflict. The match is not simply a tennis match. It is a collision of two countries' war, two athletes' choices about what to say and what to remain silent about, and two fundamentally different answers to the question of what an athlete owes the world.
Kostyuk is 23 and has become one of the most visible Ukrainian athletes willing to speak plainly about the invasion that began in February 2022. Last week, after defeating fellow Ukrainian Elina Svitolina in the quarterfinals, she described how a Russian missile struck a building just 100 meters from her family home in Kyiv during a recent attack on the city. She has made a deliberate choice to use her platform at Roland Garros. "The biggest thing I can do is sit here and talk about it so more people can find out about it and don't get used to this terrible life," she said. Each of her victories in Paris, she has dedicated to Ukraine.
Andreeva, 19, has taken the opposite approach. Before facing Kostyuk, she deflected any question about the war or the geopolitical reality surrounding their match. "It doesn't matter who I play," she said. "I really try to play against the ball that is coming at me." This is Andreeva's second French Open semifinal; she reached the same stage two years ago. She is seeded eighth. Kostyuk is seeded 15th. They have already played once this year, at the Madrid Open final last month, where Kostyuk won decisively, 6-3, 7-5, claiming the biggest title of her career. There was no handshake afterward—a stance Ukrainian players adopted when Russia's full-scale invasion began. There will be no handshake in Paris either.
The geopolitical weight extends beyond this single match. If Kostyuk wins and extends her streak to 18 consecutive clay-court victories, she could face another Russian player, Diana Shnaider, in Saturday's final. Shnaider, 22, shocked world number one Aryna Sabalenko of Belarus to reach her first Grand Slam semifinal. But Shnaider has also become a focal point of criticism for her refusal to address the war. When she faced Ukrainian player Oleksandra Oliynykova in the third round, Oliynykova accused her of supporting Russia's invasion, largely based on Shnaider's decision to play in a St. Petersburg exhibition event sponsored by Gazprom, the state-owned Russian gas company. Oliynykova's comparison was stark: "I think it's the same as playing in Nazi Germany for Gestapo officers, on the tournament organised by company which built Auschwitz." Shnaider defended her choice as her "one opportunity" of the year to play in front of her family. She has refused to discuss her feelings about the war, prompting Kostyuk to respond with frustration: "They are all grown-ups. They know what they're talking about. They know what's going on. They have phones. They have Instagram. They have news. They are clearly aware of what's going on. I don't know how you can sleep at night peacefully when you know that this is going on and you have nothing to say about it."
Daniela Hantuchova, a former Slovak world number five, offered perspective on BBC Radio 5 Live about what drives players from conflict-affected regions. "This desire comes from there being no other options, when you have war behind your courtyard and you know sport in particular is the only way to escape that," she said. She described a shared mentality among players from these countries: "You don't question anything you are told to do to get where you want to. The starting point creates this incredible hunger and willingness to do whatever it takes." All four semifinalists—Kostyuk, Andreeva, Shnaider, and Polish qualifier Maja Chwalinska—have seized their chances in what was predicted to be a wide-open draw. Whoever maintains focus best over the next three days will become a first-time Grand Slam champion. But the tournament's narrative has already been written by forces far larger than sport.
Notable Quotes
The biggest thing I can do is sit here and talk about it so more people can find out about it and don't get used to this terrible life.— Marta Kostyuk
This desire comes from there being no other options, when you have war behind your courtyard and you know sport in particular is the only way to escape that.— Daniela Hantuchova, former Slovak world number five
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why does Kostyuk keep talking about the war when other players are trying to avoid it?
Because silence feels like complicity to her. She's from Kyiv. Her home was hit by missiles. She's saying: I could pretend this isn't happening, but people are dying, so I won't.
And Andreeva just wants to play tennis?
That's what she says. But Kostyuk's point is that you can't actually separate the tennis from the context. Andreeva is Russian, playing during an active invasion of Ukraine. The silence itself is a choice.
What about Shnaider playing in that Gazprom event?
That's where it gets complicated. She said it was the only chance to play in front of her family. But Gazprom is state-owned, deeply tied to the Russian government. To Oliynykova, that looked like collaboration.
Does Kostyuk think all Russian players are complicit?
She seems to think they have a responsibility to speak. Not necessarily to condemn their country, but to acknowledge what's happening. The refusal to even discuss it—that's what bothers her.
What if a Russian player did speak out against the war?
That would be genuinely difficult. Russian athletes face real consequences for dissent. But Kostyuk's argument is: if you won't speak, at least don't play in events that benefit the state waging the war.
So this semifinal is really about something bigger than tennis?
Completely. It's about whether athletes have obligations beyond their sport. Kostyuk says yes. Andreeva says no. The match will answer neither question, but it will make both positions visible.