Enduring A Painful Journey for Life in North America

The Philadelphia Flyers have now pulled two rabbits out of their ushanka. Matvei Michkov, the talented Russian winger and key to the team’s rebuild, was able to escape the final two years of his contract with SKA St. Petersburg in Russia’s KHL so he can join the Flyers this season.

Michkov’s early arrival is a surprise – the Flyers said they were prepared to wait until 2026 – but his desire to come over early shouldn’t be. Last season, he was loaned to Sochi, the same city where his father was found dead in a pond two months before he was drafted by Philadelphia due to what the Russian Ice Hockey Federation called “unexplained circumstances.” It doesn’t take a deep thinker to understand why playing in Sochi might be painful for the 19-year-old forward and why he’d want to make good on his dream of playing in the NHL as soon as possible.

History tells us that there may have been a back-room deal to get Michkov out of his contract and into North America. The Flyers’ front office members chose their words extremely carefully, and it’s unlikely that they’ll be volunteering details of how this unlikely deal came to be.

After all, Russia has its own rules when it comes to America and hockey – 30 years ago, the Russians stole millions in a joint venture to keep the Red Army team afloat. Player salaries were withheld for phantom violations, lining coach Viktor Tikhonov’s pockets for, well, unexplained circumstances.

Russian hockey players have put their lives on the line for generations, in some cases going against their country’s will to join the NHL and play in North America. Like Michkov’s new teammate, goalie Ivan Fedotov.

Fedotov's path to North America and the NHL took more unexpected turns than an M. Night Shyamalan film — and it would be worthy of a movie script if anyone were willing to tell the whole story. He was detained in 2022 after signing a contract with the Flyers, forced into military service, and landed in the hospital where even his parents weren’t allowed to see him. He reportedly served his compulsory military obligations on an aircraft carrier in Russia’s Murmansk region, then joined CSKA Moscow, the Russian Red Army team.

Two years later, the 6-foot-7 goaltender sat next to Flyers general manager Danny Briere at a press conference, finally ready to start his NHL career. What’s been reported is compelling enough, but there are important chapters missing from this story.

“For now, we’ll just leave the details out,” Briere told reporters at that press conference.

Geopolitics still plays a heavy role in hockey relations, sometimes leaving players to live in fear. Defenseman Nikita Zadorov, a Moscow native, said he can’t go home after criticizing Vladimir Putin’s invasion of Ukraine. If he were to return to Russia, “I’d be in Siberia the next day,” he told reporters recently.

A look back

Even before the war in Ukraine, Russian players had to think twice about what they said about their country and how much effort they were willing to invest if they wanted to leave. Alexander Mogilny’s daring defection in 1989 was a groundbreaking moment, setting a precedent for others. Mogilny exemplified the boldness required to leave behind the iron grip of Soviet control. His defection offered hope for those who dared to dream of a life beyond Russia’s borders.

The Soviet and now Russian governments have always been reluctant to let star athletes leave, driven by national pride and a sense of embarrassment if North America is seen as a better alternative. When a player like Mogilny or Fedotov expresses a desire to play in the NHL, it’s seen as a betrayal. And Fedotov’s forced military service is a stark reminder of the lengths to which Russia will go to retain its talent.

In the 1980s, players like Slava Fetisov who dedicated their lives to the Soviet hockey machine, began to challenge the system. Fetisov saw Mogilny go to the NHL and wanted to follow suit. Tikhonov stripped the captaincy from Fetisov on the Red Army team simply because his priority was getting to the NHL. Fetisov applied for his release in 1989 and was rejected. This led to a dramatic standoff where Soviet legends Vladimir Krutov, Igor Larionov, and Sergei Makarov threatened to boycott the national team unless he was allowed to go to the NHL. This act of solidarity was unprecedented and is extremely unlikely to be repeated with Putin at the helm.

The cost of leaving

Stories of Russians leaving for the NHL are often shrouded in secrecy and danger. Transfer fees get siphoned off before reaching the intended recipients, creating a corrupt system where everyone takes a cut, leaving the players with little to show for their sacrifices.

Fetisov once recounted that the Russian Hockey Federation was supposed to use a $3 million transfer fee to improve hockey schools that develop the next generation of players, but it never happened. Fetisov said officials are more likely to “put in their own pockets and not going to think to help the kids or hockey program.”

The exile went beyond hockey players. At the beginning of the Cold War, Soviet intellectuals left in droves. Without artists, scientists, computer programmers, and young professionals, the economy sapped and the government enacted strict emigration laws. The biggest exports in the Soviet Union were oil, gas, Faberge eggs, and hockey players. Then the hockey players started leaving, too.

Despite the high stakes, the allure of the NHL remains strong for many Russian players. The promise of better living conditions, higher salaries, and the chance to compete at the highest level is a powerful motivator. But Soviet ideals are still alive in Russia today. They’d rather keep talented hockey players on home ice than get a buyout … unless it’s a big enough check to satisfy the egos of the powers that be.