Dayana Yastremska's racquet is doing the talking at the Australian Open

“In general, it's tough to play. But after two years (of war in Ukraine) you get to manage already how to deal with all the emotions and with everything that is going on inside.” Ukrainian qualifier Dayana Yastremska, following her fourth-round upset of former Australian Open champion Victoria Azarenka of Belarus, on the challenge of playing tennis during the war Russia is waging on her homeland.

The mention of Yastremska’s name before last weekend might have invoked one of two questions: “Who is she?” (from the casual fan) or, from a more dedicated follower of the game, “Whatever happened to Dayana Yastremska?”

The answer encompassing both questions is that Yastremska is a 23-year old whose promising career (she was ranked as high as No. 21 in 2020, at age 19) was derailed by the COVID-19 pandemic. Soon thereafter, she embarked on a long and ultimately successful struggle to reverse a doping suspension that caused her to miss the first two majors of 2021.

Yastremska has struggled since then, her ranking hovering around the No. 100 mark. But here she is, a star at the Australian Open, in yoke with fellow Ukrainian quarterfinalist Marta Kostyuk. Both women, along with five other compatriots who were in the main draw led by Elina Svitolina, are pounding tennis balls with an urgency born of the devastation being wrought on Ukraine by Russia. For these women, the conflict has been a crucible.

“If there was never a war in my life, I don't think I would be able to grow this much as I grew in the last two years,” Kostyuk said, after landing in the quarterfinals, her best performance to date at a major.

“It’s been good that we have strong Ukrainian girls,” Svitolina, the unofficial head of this delegation, said after a back injury forced to retire from her own fourth-round match in Melbourne on Sunday.

The irony is terrible, of course. But the situation—both the Russian invasion and the decision by tennis power brokers to allow Russian and Belarusian players to compete on the tour—left the women of Ukraine with a deeper sense of purpose. It is accompanied by the daunting mandate to manage their anger, roiling emotions, and resentments. This has accelerated their maturity, shattered any complacency left over from their halcyon days as teenaged sports stars living their best lives.

“I think it's about the perspective, how you take it,” Kostyuk said of finding a way to manage the emotional toll of the war. “I think the more you can minimize this feeling of being a victim, I think the easier it is to get through life.”

Yastremska, a player who had seemingly lost her way, can vouch for Kostyuk’s observation. Her exposure to suffering, and the megaphone tennis offers successful players in the public forum, have worked as motivational agents. She seems to have found the game that once bedazzled pundits and coaches.

In early 2020, Long before Brad Gilbert began coaching Coco Gauff, he put Yastremska right behind Gauff at the top of his list of emerging stars. Back then, ESPN analyst Pam Shriver also told me that, in her view, Yastremska was the most underrated player in her age group.

“I love her power and her tough mindset,” Shriver said. “She’s like a dog that won’t let go of a bone. But she also has great skills, built on a lot of power.”

“Power” is the word most used to describe Yastremska’s game, but the attribute that has come to define these Ukrainian women is a closely related one: “strength.” They wage their own daily war against grief, sorrow and anxiety—even jadedness. Each morning when they activate their phones, the first thing they see is news from home. On a lovely morning during the recent Brisbane tournament, the news awaiting Yastremska was that a Russian missile had hit the apartment house where her grandmother lives. (She survived.)

The one word that the Ukrainian women have all but stopped using in regards to their tennis, even their recent success, is “fun.” Perhaps it isn’t such a great loss, all things considered. A good win provides them satisfaction, but it’s different from before. Now it’s heavier. Even in moments of sporting triumph, reality—theirs if not yours, or that of players from other nations—intrudes.

“The worst thing is, you feel like you are already accepting what is happening,” Yastremska said after her seismic win. “And people are starting to forget about what is going on.” She segued quickly. “But, like, I don't really want to talk about it right now.”

At this Australian Open, it’s been easier—and perhaps less painful—for Yastremska and the other Ukrainian women to let their racquets do the talking.