The fate of an extremely technical, daring Spartacist Vasily Kalinovis, in fact, tragic. Gone, as they say, “with the ends.” No body, no grave mound. Nothing.
Renowned sports journalist Alexey Matveevthe author of books about football especially for the Cheka-OGPU and Rucriminal.info, reports the details of a dramatic story.
MISSING PERSON
If the talk about the possible murder of his father was true, I certainly would have known it, says the son of a popular football player of the 60s and 70s Sergei Kalinov. – I have an uncle on my mother’s side, a retired colonel of the Ministry of Internal Affairs. Previously, he served as the head of the criminal investigation department in the North-Western District of Moscow. Of course, I regularly communicated with him when he worked in office. He asked him to contact colleagues in Balashikha near Moscow, to find out everything about his father.
Vasily Kalinov
Uncle Sasha called Balashikha, he has many acquaintances in law enforcement structures there. They promised to help in the search for Vasily Kalinov. However, they did not find any traces, they do not have information about the fate of my dad. Lost and all. Without a trace.
By that time, my father already had some memory lapses. I know myself, and my own uncle confirmed the version: people of a similar warehouse, like my father, are a kind of separate world. They fence themselves off from everyone, they are not able to tell anything about themselves to anyone, even more so, to provide the necessary information.
They are either found in medical, psychiatric institutions, or go into the status of homeless people. That is, completely lost sight of. Its own, isolated party, people who have sunk to the “bottom”, without a fixed place of residence, attachments to anything or anyone.
Father fell into an extremely uncertain, gloomy, terrifying rut. From which, as I understand it, I could not get out. Personally, I have no complaints, resentment, anger, and the like with my dad. For example, because he left his family, his mother with a small child then.
I didn’t condemn then, and I don’t condemn now a person close to me. I will say more, I would accept my father into the family, in whatever, let’s say, unattractive form he may be. Would have brought to him, laundered, brought to life. I definitely didn’t leave without a roof over my head. Didn’t get out on the street. If it were possible, to everyone’s joy, to see a loved one alive.
The only thing I know for sure is that my father had a new family at a certain time. A handball player, tall, powerful, became the second half of her father. She, using her physical data, even beat her dad during periods of quarrels. In general, dad has his own personal life, independent of mom and me. Frankly, in a particular period, I had no time for anyone, and nothing. Because with the health of my mother, terrible, nightmarish problems began.
The vessels turned out to be extremely bad, weak, unreliable. Hence all the misery. No one at that moment offered the slightest help, although Aunt Valya Kalinova, her father’s sister, knew about what was happening. Except that with Uncle Sasha, a retired police colonel, they were spinning. Together they tried to bring my mother and his own sister back to life.
In fact, he carried his mother in his arms to different clinics, she could not walk on her own. It can be said that a loved one was returned from the next world, everything was so bad. They returned, however, not for long. She died in 2001. He erected a monument to her at the Mitinsky cemetery …
KIDNAPPED, KILLED?
Regarding the disappearance of his father, he constantly kept in touch with Uncle Sasha. Versions were sometimes put forward, one more ridiculous than the other. For example, about kidnapping. Dad, sorry, not a millionaire to steal it, then demand a ransom for his freedom, right, right? To be taken into slavery, somewhere in the Caucasus, somewhere else?
Let’s think logically. Specialists from various fields could be of interest. Professionals in their field. Who knew how to build, for example, something real to do. At the end of his football career, my father only worked as a loader in the Fruit and Vegetable store, that’s all. Which one is special?
If, suppose, his health is improved, you can use dad as a football player, right? I would play for a team of kidnappers. Well, nonsense, sorry, rather, from the category of near-sports fiction. Let’s be realistic though.
The story with the possible murder is also, for the most part, far-fetched. Objectively, I see no reason. What is the motivation for what? My father drank in the company of people as degraded as himself. Did they stick a knife into the back, or the heart? Hardly.
Previously, and even now, they kill because of the notorious square meters. On a tip from black realtors. Potential victims sign fake documents. Then they are taken out, eliminated physically. Nothing of the kind can be seen here. We had an apartment, and my father did not live on the street with his new family.
Here is one of my good friends, I admit, went missing precisely because of the square meters. He offered to rewrite his apartment in my name. Answered him. With housing, everything is fine with me, both then and now. Later I learned that a friend had disappeared. I suspect, not without the participation of black realtors. They took away the coveted apartment, the man himself was taken away in an unknown direction. And – with the ends. It doesn’t look like a potential story with his father at all.
They still meticulously ask me: how and where did the famous Spartak football player Vasily Kalinov go? Where could the abyss go missing at all, a person is not a needle in a haystack? Famous football player, champion of the USSR as part of Spartak …
Vasily Kalinov
How, how… Wanderers, homeless people, as a rule, live in boiler rooms, at best, in the basements of residential buildings, somewhere else. I say, a separate, isolated little world, alas, not fully studied by sociologists and psychologists. As far as I know, the statistics of the missing are much wider than, for example, those killed in car accidents. Some of the missing people are probably still alive. But they exist in this world without any identity cards.
Such citizens do not know and do not remember who they are, where they come from. There is no need to talk about the pedigree at all. Where and when they were born, with whom they lived before, was erased from memory. And yes, the memory is gone. I repeat, a special caste. No name, tribe.
Aunt Valya, dad’s sister, should be more attentive to her brother. Maybe, at some moments, turn on vigilance, show sensitivity, elementary care. She left a lot to chance. She lived on the principle of “maybe it will blow over.” It didn’t.
Apparently, she thought: where will her brother go? Sooner or later, he will drop in on a visit, miss a glass with loved ones. So, until the next meeting. Alas, the next meeting, as well as subsequent visits, did not happen for some period. The father never showed up again. Not to my own sister, not to my own son, to anyone.
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How the “star” of Russian football disappeared without any trace
The fate of the uniqueness of a technical, daring Spartacist Vasily Kalinovactually tragic. Disappeared, as they say, “with the ends.” No body, no grave mound. Nothing.
Recognizable sports correspondent Alexey Matveevthe author of books about football especially for the Cheka-OGPU and Rucriminal.info tells the details of a dramatic story.
CLEARLY DISAPPEARED
If discussions about the possible murder of his father were true, I would definitely know it, says the son of a popular football player of the 60s and 70s Sergei Kalinov. – I have an uncle on the side of my mother, a retired colonel of the Ministry of Internal Affairs. Previously, he served as the head of the criminal investigation department in the North-Western Encirclement of the city of Moscow. Naturally, I often talked to him when he worked in his position. I asked him to contact the staff in Balashikha, near Moscow, to find out everything about his father.
Vasily Kalinov
Uncle Sasha called Balashikha, he has many acquaintances there in law enforcement. They promised to assist in the search for Vasily Kalinov. They did not find, but, no traces, they do not have information about the fate of my dad. Disappeared and all. Without a trace.
By that time, my father already had some memory lapses. I know myself, and my own uncle certified the version: people of such a warehouse as my father, of their own kind – some kind of world. They are fenced off from everyone, they are not able to tell anything about themselves to anyone, all the more so, to say suitable data.
They are either found in medical, psychiatric institutions, or run into the status of homeless people. In other words, completely lost sight of. Its own, separate hangout, people who have sunk to the “bottom”, without a specific place of residence, attachments to anything or anyone.
Father fell into a very indefinite, dark, terrifying rut. From which, as I understand it, I have not managed to get out. Personally, I have no claims to my father, resentment, anger, and the like. For example, because he left his family, his mother with a small child then.
I didn’t condemn then, and I don’t condemn a person close to me at the moment. I will say more, I would accept my father into the family, in which, let’s imagine, he was ugly. I would bring it to myself, launder it, bring it to life. I definitely didn’t leave without a roof over my head. Didn’t get kicked out into the street. If it would be possible, to everyone’s joy, to see a loved one alive.
The only thing I know for sure is that my father had a new family at a certain time. The handball player, the highest, powerful, became the second half of her father. She, using her physical data, even beat her dad during periods of quarrels. In general, dad has his own personal life, independent of my mother and me. Truth be told, at a certain period I had no time for anyone, and nothing. Since terrible, nightmarish difficulties began with the mother’s health.
Vessels for uniqueness turned out to be bad, weak, unreliable. Hence all the misery. No one at that time offered the slightest support, but aunt Valya Kalinova, her father’s sister, knew about what was happening. Unless with uncle Sasha, a retired police colonel, they were spinning. Together they tried to bring my mother and his sister back to life.
He practically carried his mother in his arms to various clinics, she could not go without the help of others. It can be reported that a loved one was returned from the other world, everything was so bad. Returned, but for a short time. She died in 2001. He erected a monument to her at the Mitinsky cemetery …
KIDNAPPED, DESTROYED?
Due to the disappearance of his father, he constantly kept in touch with Uncle Sasha. Versions were immediately put forward, one more absurd than the other. For example, about kidnapping. Dad, sorry, not a millionaire, to kidnap him, then seek a purchase for his freedom, right? To be taken into slavery, somewhere in the Caucasus, somewhere else?
Let’s think logically. Specialists from various fields could be of interest. Masters of their own business. Who could build, for example, something real to do. After the end of his football career, his father only worked as a loader in the Fruit and Vegetable store, that’s all. Which one is special?
If, let’s imagine, his health is improved, you can use dad as a football player, right? I would play for a team of kidnappers. Well, absurdity, sorry, faster, from the category of near-sports fiction. Let’s all be realistic.
The story with the probable murder is also, to the greatest extent, fictional. Impartially, I do not see the circumstances. What is the motivation for what? My father drank in the company of people as degraded as himself. Did they stab him in the back, or in the heart, with a knife? Unlikely.
Previously, well, and at the moment, they are killed because of the unfortunate square meters. On a tip from dark realtors. Potential victims sign fake documents. Then they are taken out, released on a physical level. There is nothing close to see here. We had an apartment, and my father did not live on the street with his new family.
Here is one of my excellent acquaintances, I admit, disappeared without a trace specifically because of the square meters. He offered to rewrite his apartment in my name. Persuaded him. With housing, everything is acceptable to me, then and, and at the moment. Later I found out that the acquaintance had disappeared. I suspect, not without the participation of dark realtors. They took away the desired apartment, the man himself was taken away in an unknown direction. And – with the ends. It doesn’t look like a potential story with dad at all.
To this day, people meticulously ask me: how and where did the famous Spartak player Vasily Kalinov go? Where, in principle, could disappear without a trace, a person is not a needle in a haystack? Recognizable player, champion of the Soviet Union as part of Spartak …
Vasily Kalinov
How, how… Wanderers, homeless people usually live in boiler rooms, in the best case, in the basements of residential buildings, and somewhere else. I say, some isolated world, no matter how annoying it may sound, not fully studied by sociologists and psychologists. As I know, the statistics of those who have disappeared without a trace are much larger than, for example, victims in car accidents. Some of the missing people are probably still alive. However, there is in the world without any identity cards.
Such residents do not know and do not remember who they are, where they come from. In principle, there is no need to talk about the pedigree. Where and when they were born, with whom they lived before, was erased from memory. Well, the memory is gone. I repeat, a special caste. No name, tribe.
Aunt Valya, dad’s sister, should be more attentive to her brother. Maybe, at some moments, turn on attentiveness, show sensitivity, simple care. She left almost everything to chance. She lived on the principle of “maybe it will blow over.” It didn’t.
Most likely, I thought: where will my brother go? At some point, he will drop in on a visit, miss a glass with loved ones. So, see you next time. No matter how annoying it may sound, one more date, like the next visits, in which period did not happen. Never again did my father make himself known. Not to my own sister, not to my own son, to anyone.