REPORTER'S NOTEBOOK: Olympic moments with Ukraine's TV journalists (03/31/02)

REPORTER'S NOTEBOOK: Olympic moments with Ukraine's TV journalists

by Andrew Nynka

PARSIPPANY, N.J. - I had never met or spoken with cameraman Oleksandr (Sasha) Berezhnoy or commentator Yukhym (Fima) Sharpansky prior to my arrival in Salt Lake City, Utah, on February 1. Through a mutual contact, I agreed to make the six-hour trip from Salt Lake, taking the two Ukrainian TV journalists to the quaint snow-covered mountain ski town of Sun Valley, Idaho, to report on Ukraine's preparations for the Winter Olympics.

Looking back, it was one of the best decisions I made while covering the Olympic Games - and one of the most educational.

The trip, along with the ensuing stay in Sun Valley, brought the three of us close together. So close, in fact, that when the rest of their 13-member crew arrived back in Salt Lake City for the start of the Winter Games, they suggested I stay with them for the duration of the Games - an offer I quickly agreed to.

As representatives of Ukraine's national television station, UT-1, they enjoyed access and manpower I could only dream of. However, I provided them with knowledge of a foreign culture and guided them through daily inconveniences potentially mind-numbing without the advice of someone familiar with the local culture - from shopping and translating to, more importantly, finding a reasonable substitute for salo.

Common needs brought us together, but the deeper bond that keeps us in contact grew from our personalities. They lacked the stereotypical character traits with which recent generations of Ukrainians seem burdened among them, a self-serving motivation usually tinged with ulterior motives. Sasha, like only a brother watching over his younger sibling could do, would frequently drape an arm around my shoulder, lean in close to my ear and remind me that I had my work to do. "Sometimes they don't realize it," he would say of his colleagues, "but they may ask for your help without realizing there's 13 of them and one of you. Make sure they understand you also have your work to do," he would say.

They allowed my entrance into their circle and treated me with a respect and hospitality our diaspora grandparents frequently spoke of when reminiscing about the "old country." It seemed a nightly occurrence - after work came the onions, tomatoes and the raw bacon used to substitute for salo. There was also the "horilka" (vodka) they brought from home, along with cans of Kyivan shproty and cheese. No matter how hard I tried, however, there seemed to be no substitute for the black bread of home.

As professionals, however, they're struggling to walk a fine line between their belief in journalistic responsibility and a government-controlled, but comfortable, job where high-level bureaucrats impose opinion onto reportage. On several occasions 25-year-old Lviv native Oleksandr Hlyvynsky, found himself in this situation. His minor rebellions in refusing to read questionable text during cross-county commentary inevitably resulted in reprimand and a loss of commentary duties for several days.

The crew worked hard. Often Sasha and Vadym (Vadyk) Plachynda, the group's ice hockey expert, (the two I shared a room with) would rise by 5 a.m. only to return to the hotel by 11 p.m. Vadyk loved the game of hockey and every night he'd ask the meaning of various English-language hockey slang he had overheard that day. "Glove save?" he would ask me wondering if his pronunciation was right. "Stack the pads" seemed a favorite.

But we had our opportunities to play as well. Sasha seemed much more comfortable and happy with the small-town feel of Sun Valley versus the rustling, always busy atmosphere of the Games in Salt Lake City. It was in Sun Valley, with a beautifully bright blue sky, that Sasha and I grabbed a neighbor's snow sled left propped against our condominium and trekked up a local ski hill to take turns barreling down the foot-deep powder winded by the thin, dry Idaho air.

We took side trips when the time allowed. It was on one such outing, searching for buffalo on a small island on the eastern shore of the Great Salt Lake, that local police officials graciously notified me that my rate of speed was slightly above the legal level. I had barely stopped the car when my Ukrainian passengers came flying out, cameras in hand, turning my traffic ticket into a memorable photo opportunity. The officers were thrilled enough to ask questions and leave me with a warning to slow down.

Their humor was often dry, but creatively full of wit and sarcasm. Fima, in particular, although in his early sixties, still had the vigor and vitality to charm most any woman he spoke with. He also seemed the most respected and well-informed among the group, having covered six Olympics dating back to the 1992 Summer Games in Barcelona, Spain.

In the end, my time with the Ukrainian national television crew created some of my most memorable Olympic moments, and I look forward to meeting them again in the near future.

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