Across the globe, there are varying definitions of what makes a city. In the UK there is the age-old debate over population, presence of a cathedral and approval by government and/or the royal family. Elsewhere, a multitude of criteria are applied to distinguish the varying sizes of settlement, for little reason other than local pride and a sense of identity.

One of the many issues surrounding the definition is the problem of satellite communities, settlements which exist solely because of a larger neighbour but which have grown in their own right into something more substantial. In Russia, this village/town/city accounts for a large amount of the country’s population, with huge swathes of land unoccupied as people are magnetically drawn to the area around the regional hubs. A glance at Moscow on a map, for example, reveals a whole host of places dependent on the capital for success – Khimki, Ramenskoye, Podolsk and Mytishchi to name but four – and the sprawling city is by no means alone.

One ‘city’ which struggles to justify its status is the Volga settlement of Volzhsky. With a population of over 300,000 and an important economic role nationally, it possesses the size and significance to be considered. However, the status was granted to it as far back as 1954, with inhabitants still in five figures and its industrial contribution very much in its infancy. Even so, such factors are worth considering.

What sets Volzhsky apart as an unlikely city is its sheer proximity to its metropole, the proud and war-ravaged city of Volgograd, rebuilt after the decisive battle of the Second World War and now a monument to both the fallen heroes of the past and the ruthless efficiency of Stalinist architecture. Whilst in Moscow Oblast there are several miles of motorway separating the capital from its satellites, the journey from Volgograd to Volzhsky is a mere 40 minutes from centre to centre, conducted in one of the many haphazard minibus taxis or marshrutka that weave in and out of traffic with little regard for passenger safety. There is no countryside to admire on the way, no clear divide between the two cities, and no great sign that Volgograd has in fact come to an end. In essence, Volzhsky is the big suburb across the river.

What defines it as a city is the huge dam across the Volga, the hydroelectric station which spurred the foundation of the modern Volzhsky in the early 1950s, and which drew budding volunteers and convict labourers alike to the area as part of the building process. Still the largest hydroelectric station in Europe, and controlling the Volga so as to allow the mighty river to become completely navigable, it remains a source of great pride for Volzhsky locals, some of whom are looking to claim back local pride after much of its outskirts were claimed by Volgograd residents for their summer dachas.

It is little surprise then, that the local football club is named ‘Energia,’ a nod to the monstrous power output of the dam and a dynamic moniker designed to drive the team on. In their striking yellow and blue home kit, Volzhsky are supposed to be a team of youth in line with their young city, playing electric attacking football in a bid to surge up the Russian league system.

Puns aside, that was the theory at the club’s 1956 foundation, midway through work on the hydroelectric dam as a method of keeping workers’ morale high and encouraging the physical recreation which proved such a prominent feature of Soviet social policy. Entry into Class ‘B’ of the regionalised and highly convulted Soviet league system followed in 1958, and despite all their promise and potential, Energia slotted into alongside similarly provincial clubs and made a home for themselves in the regional tiers.

So comfortable did they become that they failed to break out of their malaise for the entire existence of the USSR. Whilst the league changed names, Class ‘B’ becoming the Second League, it had little effect on Volzhsky. In ’66 and ’69 they reached the heady heights of 5th in their region, but more often than not they found themselves mired in midtable and indeed left to battle relegation into footballing oblivion – a four-year run from 1976 saw the club fail to achieve anything more than 20th place, 22nd in 1979 representing the nadir of Energia’s existence.

A jump of ten league positions in the final year of Soviet rule proved enough to rescue Volzhsky from the depths of the third tier, instead landing them among several like-minded clubs in the new Russian First League and just a single step away from the nation’s elite. A surprise 4th place in their Central Zone gave the briefest of hopes that an unlikely promotion could be achieved, by the following year saw another reshuffle and subsequent relegation. 1995-7 once again saw the side compete at a national level, but since falling through the trapdoor once again they have remained in the regional tiers, a brief sojourn in the amateur ranks as a result of financial difficulties ended with promotion at the first attempt in 2006.

Today the club is a feeder side in all but name to many of the bigger clubs in the region, and also a safety net for youngster who have fallen through the systems of the likes of Krasnodar, Kuban and Rostov. Local ‘rivals’ Rotor – when the clubs met in the first round of the 2011 Russian Cup, just two Energia fans made the 40-minute trip to watch their team lose to a late penalty – have been the biggest beneficiaries of Volzhsky’s mediocrity, loaning out the likes of Pavel Veretennikov, son of legendary striker and Rotor assistant boss Oleg for match experience. Even in the 2011-12 campaign, when the two clubs found themselves in the same division, Energia were lowly enough to be used as a de facto feeder club for the Volgograd outfit.

The arrangement remains today, unpredictable playmaker Maxim Primak leaving Volgograd for Volzhsky at the end of his contract to join two other ex-Rotor men at the club – youngsters Valeri Polyakov and Maxim Romanov. The team remains a youthful one, both out of necessity as bigger clubs take more developed talents, and out of tradition as Energia seeks to stand for the vigour of youth. Attendances are reasonable – 4th highest in their region for the 2012-13 season – and performances are mediocre at best, but the very presence of Energia in Volzhsky remains one of the few things distinguished the city from its neighbour across the river. As long as Volzhsky retains a professional football team, they will find it hard to lose that particular argument.

Football in St Petersburg is, for all intents and purpose, a one-team affair. Even before their purchase by Gazprom and subsequent transformation from top flight also-rans to three-time champions and European challengers, Zenit were able to boast of a long history of support and relative success in an environment dominated by the Moscow powers – the 1984 all-Union title their greatest achievement in a crowded market.

Today’s Zenit is, albeit with several anomalies, a picture of the modern European football club. Driven to success by sources of income which delight the fans and irritate opposition, the club is a United Nations of talent, with native Russians aided by expensive imports from all corners of the globe. Their recent success has led to the demand for a new stadium – a project eternally delayed in typical football fashion – and whilst the deepest problems at the club are tied up in the racism of some hardcore supporters, a series of foreign managers and internationals stars is a symbol of football’s changing face. As long as similar problems persist across the continent, Zenit will remain thoroughly European.

The fact should not come as a surprise to those familiar with the city, which is in its very nature a Russian attempt to imitate its neighbours to the West. Commissioned by Peter the Great as a fortress city against the Swedes, the towering Tsar’s new capital became the outworking of his well-travelled education, with English, Dutch and Italian influence on the city clear to see. As opposed to the Asiatic, Slavic feel of  its great rival Moscow, St Petersburg sets itself proudly apart as a window on Europe.

It stands to reason therefore, that the nation’s second capital should blaze a different trail to the first on the football field. Moscow’s menagerie of clubs is well-known, and for years was the dominant force in Soviet and then Russian football – CSKA, Spartak, Dinamo, Lokomotiv and Torpedo. In Moscow lie the centre of the Soviet Union’s network of sporting societies, the capital’s representatives having first pick of players and coaches from their numerous affiliates and maximising their advantage from the system.

St Petersburg however, is different. Whilst tracing the history of Dinamo/Petrotrest back through history is an interesting process, it should not detract from the fact that, at least since the middle of the 20th century, the second team has been a footballing irrelevance on Russia’s map of the game. A societal system, with clubs playing second fiddle to their Muscovite counterparts, would simply not have worked in the second city – their identities are just too distinct.

A brief glance across the lower leagues of the Russian game still throws up the odd Zenit away from the Baltic coast – Penza and Izhevsk the lesser-known equivalents in far-flung corners of the vast nation – but apart from those provincial copycats, Zenit stand alone as the sole representative of the group which once stood for the arms industry. By monopolising the game and forging a unique identity, Zenit have been able to draw in large crowds even in less successful times, and created a brand which can compete with the Moscow giants rather than be forced to subordinate itself to them.

Despite Zenit’s great success, there have been plenty of attempts to launch a rival within the city, to widen the base of talent in St Petersburg and create a footballing landscape similar to that of Moscow and its many clubs. Along with Dinamo, Petrotrest and their various other forms, more recent times have seen the youth-driven Rus and Piter established as virtual farm clubs for Zenit, giving locals a chance to experience professional football in the lower levels.

The one club rarely spoken of in relation to St Petersburg is Lokomotiv, a club founded as far back as 1936 but which managed professional football for just ten seasons in a 70-year history. When the club eventually collapsed in 2006, departing the amateur ranks for the final time, there were few who mourned its demise – after all, whilst the reborn club made the First Division as recently as 2000, their achievement stretch no further.

In Moscow, Lokomotiv and the railway workers it represents are numerous enough and geographically significant enough to generate a powerful sporting presence, the age-old tradition of allowing rail workers free tickets to Lokomotiv games still practiced in a city which grants access to almost every corner of the Russian domain. Conversely, the rail network leading in and out of Petrograd in 1936 was decidedly smaller, the city still reliant on Moscow as a gateway to the rest of the Union and therefore both smaller and less important. That Lokomotiv gained a foothold at all is admirable, but their lack of historical significance – a 1936 Soviet Cup appearance and participation in their regional division some 33 years later – is hardly a surprise.

When the Loko name re-emerged in the chaos of the Soviet collapse, it was once more in the regional competitions of the Communist days, spending the first four years mired in mediocrity in the Western subsection of the third tier. In the fifth year they cheated the system, gaining promotion to the First Division by merging with the short-lived Saturn-1991 St Petersburg, who had finished the previous season in 19th place. The move worked briefly, a 5th place finish in 1997 Loko’s greatest achievement, but three years later they had managed two 16th place seasons and a lowly 20th – catalyst for the relegation from which they never returned.

When later, after five years of reasonably successful amateur football, Lokomotiv St Petersburg disappeared for good. One of the least likely tenants of the vast Kirov Stadium (100,000 capacity before its demolition), with small but devoted support and a short and unspectacular league record, the old club will in all likelihood be ignored by the history books. Whilst such an omission would be entirely unfair, they also serve to highlight the major differences between Russia’s two great cities, and are yet another reminder of why Zenit are able to dominate the footballing landscape of St Petersburg. Their old fans may not see things the same way, but it is no bad thing to be reminded of.

The new-look Arsenal Tula have benefited from some superbly talented publicists.

Death and rebirth is an integral part of the way Russian football works. A relegation or two after a period of success, it is not uncommon for a team to fold and be revived a season or so later, perhaps with the year of the reformation attached as a reminder, a slightly different badge, or in the hands of the regional government rather than a private investor. Occasionally the latter transition occurs the other way, but more often than not it is the state that steps in to provide competitive football in an area with a fitting history.

One only has to look at the incomprehensible history of Torpedo Moscow, the constant variation between Dinamo and Petrotrest in St Petersburg, or even the chaos that ensued following Rotor Volgograd’s slide down the leagues, to see that there is little unusual in a Russian football disappearing. It is, of course, a sporting tragedy to see clubs with such rich histories fade to nothingness due to financial or competitive failures, but frequently these histories are claimed by the new side and the legal issues are either resolved or brushed over. For a nation so used to having to accept such changes in the Soviet era, little has changed in the footballing world.

Therefore, the appearance of Arsenal Tula in the Central Zone of this year’s Second Division should not be a surprise to anyone. Founded as far back as 1946 in the wave of post-war club formations, Arsenal were a regular fixture of both the Soviet second tier during the 1960s, and the Russian First Division at the turn of the millennium. Without a wide enough base to ever push into the nation’s elite, they challenged for promotion once or twice, but were generally content with regional contention with the odd foray into national competition.

When in 2006, just two years after a final fling at the second level of Russian football, it was announced that Tula would no longer be able to sustain a professional football club, there was little shock outside of the city itself. After all, they had achieved very little in their lengthy existence, and looked unlikely to change that from their lowly position in the Second Division. That they would be reborn professionally six years later would not make the headlines in many nations, let alone one so lacking in footballing sentiment as Russia.

However, the appearance of Arsenal Tula at the top of this year’s Central Zone should raise a few eyebrows, and not just for the rapid ascent from non-existent concept to title challengers, if not champions elect – Arsenal currently hold an eight point advantage over nearest challengers Fakel Voronezh with just seven games of the season remaining. From the amateur ranks just a year ago, the new-look side has established themselves as the dominant local force, losing just a single league game thus far – an opening day defeat at home against a  Metallurg Lipetsk who played half an hour with ten men – and look like clear favourites to make the step up into the First Division once again. Despite rebirth being such a regularity in Russia, it is less common to see a new side rise through the ranks so quickly.

The primary reason behind their sudden surge to success perhaps lies in the manner of their coming into being. Although there had been one or two clubs since 2006 claiming to be the successor to the original Arsenal side, none were recognised as such. Step forward one Boris Gryzlov, a name unknown to those outside Russia but a highly influential figure within the corridors of power – former chairman and speaker of the State Duma, ex-Minister of Internal Affairs, and current leader of Vladimir Putin’s all-powerful United Russia party. Although a native of Vladivostok and a child of St Petersburg, something in the political veteran turned his attention to Tula, and at his word the new Arsenal were brought to life.

Gryzlov’s reasons for reviving Arsenal are unknown, but his personal approval in the 500,000-strong city is likely to be significantly higher now than if he had made that decision in one of the dozens of other Russian cities currently missing an old football team. Since the club returned, attendances have averaged out at around 8,000 per match. To put that into perspective, that figure is higher than no fewer than five Premier League sides – Dinamo, Rostov, Volga, Mordovia and Amkar – and every current First Division club bar the aforementioned Rotor. It is fair to say that football in Tula is a big deal.

Still, a large fanbase alone does not make for a successful club, especially in a nation where income from ticket sales is negligible and merchandise is impossible to locate anywhere other than the stadium on matchdays. Integral to the success of the new Arsenal side has been the budgets allocated since the return of professionalism, and the wave of interest brought about by their amateur exploits.

In 2011, when the new side was formed, they did not form in the usual manner – a group of promising kids from local clubs and veterans of the old team coming together to compete for their city. Instead Arsenal, bearing an historic if not legendary name, drew in the big guns. Drawing on their reputation as a people’s club, Spartak Moscow were the obvious link, and in a move strangely similar to the shot in the arm that series of veterans gave Khimki as they climbed to the Premier League, a number of old stars came to the club. Veteran and 49 times capped Dmitri Khlestov alone brought nine top flight titles with him to Tula, yet alongside names such as Alexander Filimonov (six), Vadim Evseev (six), Yuri Kovtun (three) and Dmitri Parfenov (four) he barely stood out. With legendary playmaker Yegor Titov and Russia’s all-time top goalscorer Vladimir Beschastnykh joining them in the ranks and Dmitri Alenichev managing his old teammates, he was positively dwarfed.

The aging stars did not set the amateur ranks alight, but what they did was bring in enough attention and cash to ensure that Arsenal Tula breezed through the licensing regulations to rubber-stamp their re-entry into the professional ranks. Only goalkeeper Filimonov, at 39 one of the younger veterans, stayed on for the start of the 2012-13 campaign, the other Spartak heroes knowing that their bodies would not cope with the professional game, but the raised profile given to them club by such star attractions meant that others from more established Second and First Division sides have been happy to drop down to ply their trade in Tula. With a talented squad and a strong financial base, it is little surprise that the new-look side has shot to the top.

Whether Tula’s tale becomes one of success handed to them by political power, one of grassroots support driving a team to great things, or another one of Russia’s countless rebirths and retreats from professional football is something that is impossible to answer at this moment in time. However, with a place in the First Division just weeks away and ample support for Alenichev and his men, it seems that success is just waiting to be grasped.

Consistency in football is a rare thing, and something to be both admired and aspired to in the right circumstances. One of the sport’s natural appeals is its fluidity, the organic way in which fortunes can turn in an instant and change the course of a match, season or club’s entire history. For a club to have transcended a reliance on the temporary is to be applauded, but only if their newly-found consistency is a positive one.

As a nation, Russia has a reputation in the West as being consistently dictatorial, whether under the divine rule of the tsars, iron-fisted ideology of Stalin or Putin’s oligarchy – hardly a track record to be looked upon with longing eyes. On the football field, Russia’s strange blend of dramatic change – name changes at the drop of a hat, wholesale structural changes and single sponsors transforming clubs – and preservation of the status quo – the Moscow clubs’ domination for decades and a refusal to adapt to a changing, TV-driven market – ensure that it remains one of Europe’s most enigmatic football leagues.

However, whilst the likes of Zenit and Anzhi have been turned into title contenders overnight and the likes of Alania are threatened with both footballing and financial oblivion, there is at least one club which has managed to remain at roughly the same level for a substantial period of time. In one of the many major cities lining the mighty Volga, the wonderfully named Krylya Sovetov – Wings of the Soviets in literal translation – of Samara have yet to drop out of the Russian top flight since its 1992 inception, and spent much of their Soviet era existence at a similar level.

What’s more, their past consistencies have provided a model which the club has followed – to a point – into the modern era. Whilst their is little doubt that football was played in Samara prior to the war, Krylya Sovetov officially came into being in 1942, perhaps a gesture of solidarity in the face of Nazi invasion or simply as an outlet for the city’s non-combatants to rally around. They did not have to wait long for the club to join the ranks of the Union’s elite teams, becoming champions of the second tier as fighting finished in 1945, their first competitive league season.

There they would stay for a decade, and for the vast majority of that time under the calm and unspectacular guidance of Alexander Abramov. Their finish of 4th place in the 1951 season remained the Wings’  best achievement under the collapse of the USSR, but it was a platform on which they failed to build, sliding gradually down the table before Vyacheslav Solovyov took them down in 1955. Despite the setback, and in a move which many contemporary clubs could learn much from, Krylya opted to keep faith with their manager, and in a vindication of that faith he responded by leading them back to the top flight at the first attempt.

Solovyov did eventually leave Samara in 1957 after two years of stagnation at the wrong end of the Top League. Instead of shopping around for the next bright young thing in management, the club instead turned back to a man they knew very well indeed – a certain Mr Abramov. This time however, their faith proved a little misguided, the former manager overseeing three more years at the club before departing – 10th, 11th and ultimately 16th a relegation an unfortunate way for the local hero to depart.

Whereas many sides at this point would be determined to see a quick fix, the far-sighted bosses at Samara again seemed to opt for the long game. In stepped Victor Karpov to steady the ship and achieve instant promotion back to the elite level, before a disappointing first year back saw them manage just 17th in the league, hanging on to top flight status by the skin of their teeth.

At this stage, the level of trust placed in Karpov becomes evident in Krylya’s record. Despite failing to finish higher than 10th, and in the 1966 season managing just four wins all year in the league, the new manager was quickly allowed to become the old manager, taking his place in the dugout for nine years until the apparently inevitable relegation at the end of the decade. What’s more, the club’s faith in Karpov was reflected in his treatment of his players – in those nine seasons only four names claimed the club’s top scorer award, highlighting a consistency of personnel almost unheard of in the modern era.

From the profile so far it may appear that such faith and consistency is to be valued above all else, but the next chapter of Krylya’s story suggests that discretion is of great importance if a club is to be successfully run. The Samara side’s faith in Karpov may have saved them the problem of finding a new manager every couple of years, but their failure to seek improvement had lasting consequences. It took six years for the club to find a way to the Top League, but three seasons down the line they were once again in the second tier and in trouble.

The 1978 campaign allowed them a return to the top flight, but the next two years saw catastrophic performances and back-to-back relegations, dropping the Wings into the third tier for the first time since their establishment. Over the next 11 years they failed to recover, reaching the second tier on just two occasions, and in both subsequent campaigns they were immediately relegated, all appeal to more talented players lost as they struggled at the lower levels. Despite their consistent failure to achieve promotion and stability, the club used just four managers over the period.

By chance their 2nd place regional finish in 1991 proved enough to parachute Krylya Sovetov into the newly-formed Russian Top League, and there they have remained ever since, continuing a policy of stability and managerial faith until relatively recently. Once regular fixtures in the top half of the table – 3rd place and an infamous cup final defeat to Terek in 2004 their finest hour – they have since slipped into decline, spending more time looking over their shoulder at the relegation scrap than dreaming of European adventures.

Their most recent managerial switch – appointing Gadzhi Gadzhiev, the man who masterminded their 2004 successes – shows hints of a tendency to look backwards, but also to place faith in the known rather than the unknown, a policy which values stability and safety rather than peaks and troughs of success and failure. For these reasons Krylya Sovetov are a side unlikely to ever trouble the nation’s footballing elite – despite their recent buy-out by a wealthy vodka company – but equally should not fall too far from their current position. Unless something dramatic happens, the Wings of the Soviets will likely remain in their place for the foreseeable future. As their name suggests, history is important in Samara. As their name suggests, change is not always welcomed.

Ural’s attacking play has swept their First Division rivals aside this season.

In many leagues across Europe, there are a number of teams who seem to have made it their habit to earn promotion one season, only to be immediately relegated the next. This cycle may last a mere two years, or continue indefinitely – the club unable to find a playing squad good enough for the top flight, yet by very definition proving too strong for the second tier. In England, fans of West Bromwich Albion endured such a fate until recent years, whilst in Russia the honour belonged quite spectacularly to Kuban until Dan Petrescu hauled them into the top half in the 2011-12 season and laid the foundations for the work since performed by Yuri Krasnozhan and Leonid Kuchuk.

With increasing amounts of money entering the global game, such a pattern should come as little surprise – having tasted the riches of the elite, clubs which have spent within their means should have ample funds left to deal with a relegation and re-enter the top flight, but have not enjoyed those same riches for long enough to cement their place at their country’s top table. The English leagues are likely to witness this more often due to the notable rise in ‘parachute payments’ gifted to recently-relegated sides in the future, but with financial catastrophe apparently only ever round the corner, there appears to be little alternative.

In Russia, with the aforementioned exception of Kuban, the phenomenon of the yo-yo team has not become too deeply ingrained into the sporting club. Alania are currently giving it a good go, dragging Mordovia with them in the process, and should be a reasonable bet for promotion next year unless their financial woes catch up with them in the meantime. Tom Tomsk, having themselves been saved from economic oblivion on a number of occasions by a government with an unusual interest in the Siberian city, were relegated last season, and could have promotion sealed by Tuesday if they overcome fellow relegated side Spartak Nalchik and SKA-Energia Khabarovsk fail to win at Sibir.

However, they will not be the first side to clinch their promotion from the First Division, having been beaten to the punch by a side which the Premier League has not witnessed since 1996. When they were relegated them, Uralmash Ekaterinburg collapsed as a drop, dropping down again the following year into the murky waters of the regional Second Division, a labyrinth from which it took seven years to properly escape. By the time they did, they were renamed as simple Ural, and despite having the resources of the entire Sverdlovsk Oblast to their name, promotion has been a long time in coming.

It has, however, been widely predicted for many years. Since their return to the First Division in 2005, their league finishes read like the ultimate nearly men, a club which has had the ability to break out of the second tier but has struggled with consistency. Beginning with a respectable 7th place in their first seaosn back, they went on to record placings of 3rd, 4th, 5th, 8th, 7th and 6th in subsequent years, always hanging on the edge of the promotion battle without quite managing to kick on and win it.

This year has been different. From the opening weeks of the campaign, Ural established themselves as a dominant force in a division stripped to the bare bones after the late and controversial withdrawals of a number of clubs just days before the big kick-off. Quickly they ascended to the top of the pile along with Tom, and more recently they have been able to pick up the points as their title rivals stuttered. On Monday afternoon, Edgar Manucharyan’s solitary goal against Baltika Kaliningrad proved enough for three more points – points that took them a massive 16 points clear of their rivals from Khabarovsk in 3rd. They may have played a game more, but with the Pacific Coast club having just 15 points left to play for, the celebrations could begin.

To say the promotion is deserved would be an understatement – Ural have dominated the First Division this season, and have been particularly difficult to score against, conceding just 16 times thus far. Furthermore, their attack has been formidable – 57 goals scored is six more than Tom, and 22 more than any other side – in a league which has remained quite tight all season. Despite their free-scoring style, only Spartak Gogniev has reached double figures for the Ekaterinburg side, highlighting a forward line which has been all too happy to share the goalscoring burden.

Two defeats all season – only Tom and Nalchik have managed to beat them, the most recent loss coming back at the start of September – and a strong showing against Anzhi in the domestic cup provide further proof that if ever Ural were ready for the Premier League, the time is now. With Gogniev leading the line and ably supported by the likes of Manucharyan and former Anderlecht winger Anatoli Gerk, the creative force of Gerson Acevedo in midfield and a defence led by the prolific Denis Tumasyan, they have proved themselves far too good for the second tier, and with a fighting chance of survival next season.

It is that survival instinct – the club recently became the first in Russian history to play a competitive game indoors, using the 3,000-seater Ural Arena to combat the harsh winter weather – which may need to be evoked if the Ekaterinburg side are to prevent themselves from falling into the yo-yo club trap, but their promotion push appears well timed. Top flight clubs such as Volga, Amkar and even Rostov and Krylya Sovetov are all struggling for money – although the latter has recently been purchased by a wealthy vodka company – and whilst there has been speculation in the past that Ural’s previous failures were related to a known inability to compete in the Premier League, there appear to be few such concerns at the moment.

It is difficult to predict how Ural will fare in their first season back in the big time, as so much will depend on how they are able to strengthen their squad over the summer months. However, for a city the size of Ekaterinburg – the fourth largest in Russia – to have regained a Premier League representative, and for another club east of the Volga to have acquired top flight status, can only be promising for those looking to redress the balance among the nation’s elite. Whilst Alania seem to have failed in their own bid for safety, in their current state Ural have probably the best chance of a newly-promoted club since Krasnodar to establish themselves in the top flight. Whether they take it or not will only be down to them.

The date is 21st October 1995, the city is Moscow and the hour is approaching 6pm local time. In Samara, hosts Krylya Sovetov are on the end of a thrashing, visiting Lokomotiv knowing that returning to the capital with anything less than three points would put an end to their title dream. Back in Moscow, Vladislav Radimov scores for the home team with seven minutes to go. A nation holds its breath, but there is no more scoring. The referee from Krasnodar puts his whistle to his lips, and it’s all over.

More than 1,000 miles away, a city and a region erupt in celebration. Having been one of the best supported clubs in the country all season, fans of Spartak-Alania Vladikavkaz finally have their moment to savour, the club’s first ever Russian title arriving with a game to spare. The festivities are great, and even those with no interest in football join in the party, peasants and politicians alike revelling their team’s greatest ever achievement. Manager Valeri Gazzaev and his teams became instant heroes, previously unheralded sportsmen who would become the stars of their city and beyond.

Although most championship wins inspire some form of celebration, the added resonance in Vladikavkaz can be explained at least in part by the fact that Spartak-Alania, now simply Alania after financial difficulties and reformation in the middle of the last decade, are not your average Russian football club. Formed as early as 1921, the club originally formed as Unitas spent four decades in their local leagues, competing with other teams from their native North Ossetia with varying degrees of success. At this point, there appeared to be little significance attached to the young side.

However, in 1960 the Soivet footballing authorities finally took the decision to allow North Ossetia a team in a nationwide championship which was growing by the year. Alania were not the region’s first choice, nor were they particularly successful in their early years – taking three years before registering a positive goal difference – but as sole representatives of fiercely proud region, they began to carry the sporting hopes of around half a million Ossetians, a number which would quickly rise as they grew in stature.

That growth would come quickly to the newly-christened Spartak, despite their slow start. Despite a convoluted system of promotion – the winners of six regional leagues participating in four round robin groups of three, the winner of each trio then playing each other once more with only one of the four missing out on promotion – the  club escaped fairly rapidly. Having fallen at the final hurdle in 1964, two years they found themselves there again, but this time they held their nerve, defeating Tsement Novorossiysk and Metallurg Tula to reach the second tier of Soviet football.

Their first season there was something of a rollercoaster, but ultimately the journey was successful – Spartak Ordzhonkidze, as Vladikavkaz was still known, finished five points off the foot of the table, taking 16th place in their 20 team group and ensuring that they would be around to take part the next season. An incredible second season saw the side narrowly miss out on promotion to the top flight, but the wheels were already in motion.

The 1969 season began with a pair of easy wins, and it became apparent that Spartak meant business. A string of tricky away games were dealt with comfortably, and before long their league became a straight shoot-out between Spartak and Dinamo Leningrad as the two sides pulled clear at the top of the table. In the end it was the Ordzhonikidze club who prevailed and entered the final tournament, this time only one of the four teams going through. On Ukrainian soil each side won and lost one of their first two matches, resulting in a nerve-wracking final day. In the 53rd minute, Spartak scored the goal which would see them to victory over Zalgiris Vilnius, whilst elsewhere the representatives of Dnipropetrovsk and Khabarovsk played out a goalless draw. Spartak were going to the Top League.

At this point, Spartak became not only the representatives of North Ossetia, but of the entire North Caucasus region, the sole club from the area competing with a host of sides representing the powerbase of Moscow and the republican centres. Such was the new appeal of Ordzhonikidze that other teams in the area, from the likes of Grozny, Makhachkala and Stavropol, reached agreements to send Spartak some of their better players to help them compete. These deals fell through, the club was relegated, but the links forged in that single season remain to this day.

Spartak settled back into the First League for the next two decades, on one occasion even falling back to the third tier, which they escaped at the second time of asking. However, they remained a stable second tier side for much of this time, hovering around the lower end of midtable and rarely having any say in the destination of the title. In 1987 a young Oleg Romantsev took charge of the side, briefly lifting them up the league before leaving for a different Spartak in the capital, but in Ordzhonikidze one future managerial legend was replaced by another one – Valeri Gazzaev taking charge of his hometown team in his first job in the dugout.

His first season was poor and his second phenomenal as Spartak Vladikavkaz, the city now renamed, jumped from 17th and battling relegation to 1st and surprise champions. For just the second time in the their history, Gazzaev had guided them to the top table, the only Russian side in the league from outside of the capital, and this time they survived, finishing in 11th place. In the end it would not matter as the teams were arranged into their new national leagues, but the season established Spartak as one of the top sides in the new country.

So it would prove just some four years later, when renamed and under Gazzaev’s iconic leadership, a side made up of homegrown North Caucasians and a handful of players from the less successful footballing republics – Georgia, Kazakhstan, Armenia and Azerbaijan – managed to wrest the title from Spartak Moscow and became instant heroes. With North Ossetia possessing such a distinct and strong culture, forged partly in its mountainous isolation and partly in its Christian faith in a part of the world dominated by Islam, it is fitting that such a strong local contingents were the ones to bring success to Spartak-Alania.

The club were unable to repeat that success, Gazzaev eventually leaving to take charge of CSKA Moscow and the team slowly drifting down the table until their relegation 2005. A chaotic licensing problem meant that Alania were denied participation in the First Division the following year, and a reborn club were forced to start again in the regional tiers. A fortuitous promotion back to the top flight in 2009, caused by the collapse of FC Moscow, came too soon and resulted only in failure, but by finishing as runners-up to Mordovia Saransk in the long 2011-12 campaign, Alania Vladikavkaz once again earned their place in the Premier League.

Today, Valeri Gazzaev remains a legend in his own lifetime, and oversees the club’s running from his role as president. He heads what is turning into a Gazzaev dynasty at Alania, his son Vladimir taking the managerial reins despite having no previous experience. Still, with one of the largest and most partisan sets of supporters in the country, the weight of history behind them and one of Russia’s managerial greats at the helm, there is little doubt that Alania belong at the top level. A little nepotism should not hinder their ability to stay there.

Rubin’s cup defence may have ended early, but all the signs point to another big name on the trophy this season.

Last May, at the end of the longest season in Russian, a 78th minute strike from Roman Eremenko earned Kurban Berdyev’s Rubin a hard-fought win over Dinamo in Ekaterinburg, giving the two-time Premier League champions their first taste of success in the national cup competition. In many ways, the victory papered over a number of cracks in a disappointing year for the Tatar club, but in the year since they have made the most of that success in some style, reaching the last eight of the Europa League before being bundled out by Chelsea.

This season, Rubin’s cup campaign ended in September, a miserable performance in Krasnoyarsk producing the shock of the round of 32, two first half goals from Rais Sitdikov and Alexei Nikitin giving Yenisei a lead which remained intact until second half stoppage time, Sergei Davydov’s late strike mere consolation as the holders crashed out in disappointing fashion. Many were quick to dismiss the result as a one-off, a poor show for Rubin rather than anything special from the First Division club – they had, after all, laboured to a 1-0 over Sibiryak Bratsk in the previous round – who would almost certainly go out at the next opportunity.

Surprisingly, nobody in Krasnoyarsk read that particular script. Taking advantage of another Premier League failing, they found themselves drawn at home to fellow second tier side SKA-Energia Khabarovsk in the last 16, this time Alexei Bazanov’s goal midway through the first period booking them a place in the quarter-finals as the sole representatives of the First Division. All of a sudden, the unthinkable looked like becoming reality.

Unfortunately for fans of the underdog, such hopes were cruelly crushed on Wednesday afternoon, the quarter-final draw sending them to the capital to take on Premier League leaders CSKA, a side in high spirits after picking up four wins in five since the end of the winter break, and sitting comfortably atop the division with an advantage of six points over their closest rivals Zenit. Somewhat ridiculously, the game was scheduled to be played at the Luzhniki despite Arena Khimki being available, and a pitiful pocket of around 3,500 supporters sat engulfed in emptiness in the 90,000-seater arena. Those looking for an upset were sorely disappointed as Vagner Love put the home side 1-0 up within the first quarter of an hour, and Lenoid Slutsky’s men eventually ran out comfortable 3-0 winners to keep their double dreams alive.

The identity of the clubs joining the league leaders in the final four is also of interest, representing as it does a reversal of the early-season fortunes which had some observers pointing to a footballing revolution in the south of Russia that would usurp the traditional forces of the Centre. Some will point to the fact that two southern sides  are involved at all is a stark change from the days of all-Moscow finals held in the Luzhniki, but that one of them is Anzhi is rather a moot point – training and living in Moscow while their new facilities in Dagestan await construction, Guus Hiddink and his men have rapidly made themselves part of the Russian game’s establishment.

Anzhi’s progress to the final has been less then serene, the embarrassment of riches at their disposal failing to translate into the fluid football many have expected from the country’s wealthiest club. First of all their required penalties to get past Ural Ekaterinburg, before relying on a stunning late volley from Serder Serderov to complete a comeback win against Krylya Sovetov. In midweek, facing off against a determined Dinamo side in Makhachkala, only an extra time penalty from Samuel Eto’o saw them through against the side they meet again in the league on Sunday.

In the semi finals they will take to the road once more, heading to St Petersburg and Zenit for a duel which could take on as much symbolic meaning as actual, a collision of wealth in a gas-powered city pitting the riches of the state against those of an individual. Eto’o and Willian against Hulk and Witsel highlights a two-pronged belief in the ability to buy success, and a short-term disregard for young Russian talent. After two routine away wins at Baltika Kaliningrad and Mordovia, followed by a tedious penalty shoot-out victory over stumbling upstarts Kuban on Wednesday, even the brash millionaires of Anzhi will be seen as perfectly beatable by the Petrovsky faithful.

The final side to join them will be Rostov, who completed a second shootout victory in a row over Terek, having beaten Spartak in the same manner in the previous round. Stanislav Cherchesov’s men will be kicking themselves after missing out on an opportunity for the club to utilise home advantage – first by hosting CSKA in the semis and then with the final itself being held in Grozny’s Akhmat-Arena, a far cry from bygone years when a Moscow final was not only expected by enshrined in tradition. Instead it will be Rostov, who currently sit 11th in the Premier League table, who will be seeking to turn a typical story of relegation struggle into one of cup success. Having knocked out an unpredictable side often seen to oppose and collaborate with the authorities in equal measure, Rostov have little relationship with power of there own to alter.

With the semi-final line-up now confirmed, there will be plenty out there arguing that the Russian Cup offers nothing more than one more chance for the odd glamour tie – Zenit and Anzhi in the semis, for example – while the romance that is supposed to define such competitions has all but gone. While seeing the country’s top three in the final four may not seem like the unpredictable tournament fans would enjoy, it is worth noting that unpredictability has hardly been synonymous with the competition since its inception. CSKA look like favourites for a record seventh title, and it is fair to assume that the double would be just reward for a great domestic season. However, as long as sides like Yenisei continue to shock the establishment, as long as the draw provides talking points such as Torpedo vs Dinamo, and as long as the big clubs want to win it, the Russian Cup remains an integral part of the country’s footballing make-up. Whoever takes this year’s title would do well to remember that fact.

It is not uncommon in the modern era to hear of football clubs talking about meeting performance targets and working to a long term plan. After all, most football clubs are now business venutres which need first and foremost to meet the demands of their shareholders, with the need to balance profitability and performance gradually drifting towards the former.

In Russia, such language can almost be excused by the lexicon of the Soviet era, when life was determined by the latest economic plan – from leisure time to bread prices, the state had control. On the football field, the link between club and state was often blurred, whether more obviously in the form of the all-Union societies such as CSKA and Lokomotiv, or more locally, as individual sides adopted the moniker of the town or city’s primary industry – another aspect of Soviet policy designed to turn into settlement into cog in the machine – resulting in sides such as Shinnik and Textilshchik.

The residents of Nizhnekamsk therefore have a ready-made excuse for the somewhat awkward name of their local side. Neftekhimik, which translate as ‘petrochemical,’ have their foundations in an unofficial team established as far back as the 1960s, even if the modern-day side only date back to the chaos of the early 90s.

Three decades early, Nizhnekamsk owed it very existence to the petrochemical industry which became the lifeblood of the city. Many of its 235,000 inhabitants owed their livelihoods to the huge plant which sprang up in the city, Nizhnekamsk laying very few claims to the rich Tatar history of those elsewhere in their republic. As specialists and engineers extended the city beyond its existing limits, it became apparent that Nizhnekamsk was based entirely on oil.

The same stands true today. Whilst Tatar capital Kazan evolves into a thriving metropolis in the centre of Russia, a melting pot of culture quite obviously distinct from the rest of the country, Nizhnekamsk remains largely unchanged from its Soviet routes. High-rise apartment blocks line the city’s grid of streets, and it is a settlement far removed from both the tourist trail and the alternative routes favoured by more adventurous travellers.

In footballing terms, the city also struggles to carve its own distinct identity. At the start of the 2012/13 season the goals began to flow, and the club have been involved in a handful fo high-scoring matches to entertain the fans. However, like so many clubs based outside of the traditional heartland, they face a constant battle to emerge from the shadow of the local KHL ice hockey team, in this case a part of the same society and therefore sharing a name.

The hockey team may not be competing in the latter stages of the Gagarin Cup, regularly sneaking into the play-offs to be beaten at the first hurdle by a higher seed, but they remain considerably closer to their sport’s first prize than their footballing neighbours. Since formally becoming a professional club in 1991, Neftekhimik have tried and failed to reach the promised land fo the Premier League, at worst languishing in the regional divisions and at best holding down an upper midtable position within the First Division.

The closest they ever came to the top flight was in 1994, just three years after beginning their campaign in the regional leagues. Promotion at the second attempt took them into Russia’s second tier, and an impressive performance took them to the lofty heights of 6th place in the First Division. Good results against leading teams in the league led to a sense of optimism in Tatarstan as they did battle with rivals Rubin in the lower leagues, and the following year Neftekhimik survived the grand reshuffle, finishing 7th to remain in the second tier while so many others were dropped in the reorganised Second Division.

Unfortunately for those in Nizhnekamsk not pre-occupied with the hockey, that would be as good as it got for the club. Slowly performances began to deteriorate, and in 1998, despite the best efforts of Gennady Sarychev, the man who had first won promotion into the second tier, the club succumbed to relegation and the need to rebuild from the ground up.

From that point on, the targets changed with each passing year. Promotion out of the regionals took two years, and an inital surge of promise was quickly forgotten when, following the loss of star men Sergei Budylin and Rustyam Fakhrutdinov to Torpedo Moscow and Balanovo, the club again slid down the table, first narrowly avoiding relegation and then falling through the trapdoor once more.

In 2007, Neftekhimik seemed to accept their place in the footballing world, both locally and nationally. A new focus on developing young players seemed to rule out any immediate return to the First Division, while at the same time the club signed an agreement with Rubin – the club they finished above in the 90s now a title-winning giant – to co-operate on youth development and facilities, in all but name an agreement to become a farm club for the Kazan side.

Since then, things have improved dramatically for the petrochemical club. Narrow failure to win promotion in 2010 was followed by success the following season, and the agreement with Rubin began to prove its worth. Players such as Tajik youngster Alisher Djalilov, Turkmen youth international Vahyt Orazsakhedov and Rubin’s €750k Ecuadorian forward Walter Chala – all of a quality comfortably out of Neftekhimik’s usual reach – made the step down from the Premier League to help the smaller team, and in doing so established a platform on which to build First Division status.

Whether the side will be able to go further is something that remains to be seen, but even if they do achieve promotion it seems likely that they would be forced to rely on the Rubin deal for the immediate future, as the club simply lacks the resources to compete as a stand-alone entity. Should they ever make that move upwards, they would finally stand a chance of competing against their KHL neighbours, but even success in that battle would be a struggle. For the time being, the most likely scenario is that they remain precisely where they are – mirroring their city’s progress since the later 60s.

Volgar’s second string have endured a miserable season so far.

Last weekend in the Russian Premier League, eight matches produced a thoroughly disappointing six goals. With less than a goal per team on average – nine of the sides failed to trouble the scoreboard, resulting in three goalless draws – there was some delight to be found in Rubin’s performance against Chelsea in the Europa League, a 3-2 win in a deserted Luzhniki not quite enough to overturn their defeat at Stamford Bridge, with Fernando Torres capitalising on some less than perfect goalkeeping from Sergei Ryzhikov to boost his season’s goal tally.

In short, it has not been the best of times for the Russian game. CSKA seem to be the only one of the title-chasing clubs who seem capable of stringing wins together, leaving Zenit – who relied on a dubious Hulk penalty to see off Krylya Sovetov – and an Anzhi side without a win in four games despite facing the bottom two in that time, trailing in their wake. Leonid Slutsky’s side lead the defending champions by eight points with just seven games to go, whilst Anzhi are a huge 12 points off the pace and now face a battle with the chasing pack just to hold on to 3rd. At the bottom, Alania look dead and buried, whilst the rest are unable to score – less than thrilling viewing at the moment.

It is at times like this, therefore, that the Russianist should not afraid to glance lower down the leagues for their entertainment. In the First Division, the table sits remarkably parallel – Tom Tomsk and Ural Ekaterinburg are well clear at the top and look certain to claim automatic promotion, however in the fight for the play-offs there are no fewer than seven sides within striking distance – clubs are varied as recently relegated Spartak Nalchik and Sibir Novosibirsk to young upstarts Ufa. At the bottom, things are less clear – Volgar Astrakhan look to be on the way down, below a group of provincial sides from the central region all fighting to keep their heads above the water.

However, poor weather conditions have not been conducive to flowing, attacking football, and while the goals have continued to go in, it has been the gap in quality between teams rather than the the quality of the play which has been the cause. Ural have resorted to playing indoors, Petrotrest have announced that they will once again play under the Dinamo moniker next season – presumably resulting in the now-amateur Dinamo St Petersburg outfit being forced into a name change – but there seems little happening outside of a few provincial sides changing places on a weekly basis.

Even so, the Russian fan has no reason to despair. After a wait of no less than five whole months for the harsh winter weather to subside, the Second Division resumed this week to the delight of those clubs still yearning for national competition. Of course, owing to poor facilities in many of the cities involved, not every side is yet able to host professional football, and so only the teams in the south of the country have in fact restarted their league campaign.

In the southern division there are, for the lower reaches of the Russian league system, some relatively big hitters. Chernomorets Novorossiysk were top flight regulars in the latter half of the 1990s, Dagdizel Kaspiysk, now based in Derbent, are the farm club of Anzhi, and SKA Rostov are an ancient team fallen on hard times – so hard in fact, that they have officially withdrawn from competitive football for the rest of the year.

The South is also a league in which nothing is set in stone, or so it would seem. Chernomorets, having been relegated into the league form the First DIvision last season  were the clear favourites at the start of the season but a loss of key players and the ubiquitous financial difficulties of running a low-level Russian club has seen them struggle to assert the dominance that many expected of them. Going into Wednesday’s fixtures the Black Sea side held a three point lead at the top of the table, but a 2-1 home defeat to FC Astrakhan saw the Caspian club leapfrog them in the standing, albeit having played a game more.

Also in the title chase are Angusht Nazran, whose 1-0 win over struggling Energia Volzhskiy moved them to within two points of the lead with a game in hand, and Torpedo Armavir, the club from the old Armenian settlement who have come close to the First Division on a number of recent occasions without ever managing to take that final step.

However, the award for the biggest statement of intent in the opening round of fixtures this week goes to Mashuk Pyatigorsk, the club situated in the foothills of the Caucasus and the shadow of Mount Mashuk, bathed in Lermontovian romanticism and seemingly destined to remain on the cusp of promotion until the fates determine otherwise. Traditionally it has been their home record which has been their strength, but not this time.

This time they travelled to Astrakhan to face the weakest team still remaining in the competition, the reserves of First Division strugglers Volgar. Perhaps buoyed by the fact that their opponents are now technically bottom of the table, or simply continuing a run of form which requires looking back to September for their most recent defeat, new manager Valeri Umnov led his team to an emphatic 6-0 win. Although aided by two second half penalties. six different scorers and a barrage of shots on the Volgar goal ensured their biggest win of the season thus far, and moved them to within five points of the summit.

Whether or not Mashuk are able to continue their ascent now that the stifling enigma of Valeri Zazdravnykh has left them remains to be seen, but if they continue putting six past their opponents it won’t be long before they do reach the league’s peak. Representation for one of Russia’s most beautiful cities in national competition may be a dream for now, but with belief on their side and a tight league to contend for, there is plenty of time for Mashuk to spring a surprise. I for one hope they get there.

For football fans the world over, there is something of a stigma attached to the notion of being a ‘yo-yo team.’ The very term implies consistent inconsistency, the inability to find one’s place in the sprawling mass of teams that often constitutes a footballing pyramid, and the knowledge that fans of struggling but more stable clubs look down on yours as an example not to be followed, years of inadequacy rendering any apparent progress irrelevant.

Conversely, how sweet it can be for a fan of such a club to witness a successful rebound, a show of mental fortitude which casts aside self-doubt and imagined weaknesses to once again rise to the challenge and achieve promotion. Whilst life in the higher division may be the holy grail to which all aspire, there is doubtlessly a certain satisfaction to be found in watching your heroes dismantle substandard opponents, all of whom offer jealous glances at your ambitious, talented squad and impressive facilities.

For the Russian football fan, in recent years the club which has come to embody the yo-yo team is none other than Krasnodar’s Kuban, the older brother of Sergei Galitsky’s FC Krasnodar with whom they share the Kuban stadium. Perhaps unsurprisingly for a side which has, in the last 20 years, almost always entered the final weeks of the season with something to play for, Kuban boast one of the league’s highest average attendances, pulling in an approximate 18,000 each home game. In the 2012-13 season game against Spartak Moscow drew the highest attendance of any fixture not played at the national Luzhniki stadium.

However, it has not always been the case that Kuban were a team followed by a mass of supporters anxious to see their club break out of the promotion/relegation cycle in the right direction. Formed in 1928, it took the Dinamo name which was so famously tied to the secret police, acquiring facilities in the heart of the southern city – those facilities today double up as a budget hotel – and competing at a local and Russian level for the best part of three decades.

It was in the 1950s that the club, known as Neftyanik from 1954-57 and Kuban thereafter (two brief years as Spartak notwithstanding), began to take shape and transform into something like the club that Russian sports fans now recognise. Participating in the Soviet Union’s ‘B’ Class at a regional level, a strong Neftyanik was denied promotion on more than one occasion only by virtue of sporting politics. The societal system, often the reason behind sudden changes of time in the Soviet era, allowed clubs to both benefit and suffer from the changing influences at governmental, and the one group almost always guaranteed to come out on top was the army. Despite their traditional Cossack routes, the Krasnodar side had the apparent misfortune of belonging to first Neftyanik and then Trud, two of the ‘weaker’ societies with less influence. Accordingly, when the club looked like succeeding in its promotion charge, key players were called into the military, only to emerge weeks later in the colours of regional rivals SKA Rostov.

A similar fate was to befall the newly-renamed Spartak shortly afterwards, the great league reshuffle in the arly 1960s robbing Krasnodar of top flight status which no opponent had managed to deny them. The psychological effects proved significant, and rather than make a renewed attempt to claim what was rightfully theirs, Kuban slumped to a midtable finish in 1963 and by 1971 found themselves one step further down the ladder, having been relegated out of the second tier. Almost a decade later, after a complete change of ownership and restructuring of the club, did Kuban finally reach the coveted Top League.

They clung on to their top flight status for two seasons before relinquishing it in the third, and again it would appear that political considerations rather than footballing ability contributed to their demise. Sergei Medunov, the head of the local Communist Party in Krasnodar Krai and a key ally of Soviet leader Leonid Brezhnev was ousted from his post, and without his support the football club plummeted down the Top League table. How much influence Medunov had on their rise in unclear, but the fact that Kuban did not immediately return to the top table suggests it may indeed have been significant.

Kuban’s fall and subsequent rise can also be mapped out in political terms through the rest of the 1980s. Before the collapse of the USSR the club again dropped briefly into the third tier before returning at the first attempt from the regionalised championships, but failed to assert themselves on their return, a run of three years in 19th place broken by dropping to 21st, dangerously close to the bottom of the pile. Yet, as chaos reigned in the political sphere, so it did on the football field – as the Soviet Union broke up and newly independent republics took their teams with them, Kuban found themselves unexpectedly elevated to the top of the Russian game.

The unexpected promotion would prove disastrous for Kuban, the club clearly not prepared to take on the giants of the Russian game, and immediate relegation followed not once, but twice, dropping like a stone into the regional third tier once more. Vladimir Brazhnikov guided them back to national competition in 1995, but three years later his successor took them back down. It took a managerial cameo from Mordovia icon Fedor Shcherbachenko to recover their second tier status at the turn of the millenium, and even since then things have been less than simple – four promotions from the First Division and three relegations from the Premier League since 2003 creating a club with a strong fanbase and no sense of belonging in the national system.

Things do, however, seem to be changing. In 2001 the administration of Krasnodar Krai took over the running of the club, ensuring a minimum level of funding and a degree of independence from the societal networks established in the USSR. By investing in the club and being willing to coax the likes of Oleg Domatov and Dan Petrescu to the second tier, the local government has ensured that the side has finally emerged from their ordeal for the better. Petrescu’s debut top flight season saw Kuban reach the top half, boosted by the goals of subsequent Anzhi signing Lacina Traore and the form of players such as former Zenit winger Alexei Ionov and star goalkeeper Alexander Belenov, reportedly a target for the nation’s biggest clubs.

Although the city of Krasnodar was inexplicably passed over for the 2018 World Cup, football in the city continues to grow with both Krasnodar and Kuban improving at an impressive rate. For Kuban, now that the political considerations which thwarted them so often in the Soviet Union have been removed, there appears little reason that one of the biggest supports in the country cannot boast one of its biggest teams. Multiple setbacks aside – Petrescu leaving for Dinamo, the bizarre sacking of Yuri Krasnozhan, the sale of Traore – Kuban have shown themselves capable of progress in the face of adversity. For a brief time, their apparent status as the underdog will remain only to be used to their advantage, and with something resembling stability and a stronger squad than at any point in their history, Kuban have transformed from political collateral to European challengers. Their achievement should not be underestimated.