Making a trust connection through soccer
Living Me to We Troy Scott lost his apartment, his girlfriend, custody of his four-yearold daughter and was struggling through alcohol rehab in a Hamilton, Ont., men’s shelter. But then a man with a soccer ball pulled him onto his feet.
“A coach came in one night last January and invited me to play soccer at the school gym,” Scott, 33, told us. “I hadn’t done any physical activity in 12 years, but it was fun so I kept playing every Monday.”
The game of soccer changed Scott’s life. From Sept. 12 to 19, he’s suiting up for Team Canada at the 13th annual Homeless World Cup in Amsterdam.
It’s the pinnacle of a long journey for Scott and six teammates representing the 500 homeless and marginalized Canadians who play “street soccer” weekly across the country. The delegation of Canucks competes against peers from 63 countries — from India’s slums to Brazil’s favelas — in a sport that interrupts lives of grinding poverty, self-doubt and social exclusion with exercise, confidence and camaraderie.
We’ve seen soccer make a transformative impact overseas — games are organized to recruit reticent young people to come get immunizations or attend education sessions on HIV/AIDS. But the world’s favourite sport is changing lives here, too.
When we think of helping the homeless, we think of housing and food, mental health and addictions counselling. We rarely consider other elements of the human experience that make us feel truly alive, and which marginalized people quite often miss out on — a supportive community, the endorphin rush of physical activity, and the elation of achieving (or scoring), a goal.
Over 28 years of working with the homeless, Street Soccer Canada founder Paul Gregory has learned that a necessary ingredient missing from conventional interventions is the building of trusting relationships.
“Without social connection none of the other stuff sticks, and these guys just end up back on the street,” says Gregory.
Soccer is a way to make that connection, and Gregory reports that almost three-quarters of Canadian street soccer players have stabilized their lives with the help of their teammates. They’re in better shape, eat healthier, reduce their drug use and get into fewer interactions with police.
“Soccer is the weekly motivator for these guys to do the heavy lifting they need to do,” adds Gregory. His organization co-ordinates a peer mentorship system that connects players who’ve found their feet, to newbies in need of guidance.
One of the first challenges for players is getting into shape. Street soccer is played in school gyms or outdoor ball-hockey courts, with three players and a goalie per side, and rolling substitutions to avoid fatigue.
“These aren’t exactly A-1 athletes,” admits Gregory. “But they play their guts out.” He jokes it’s the most effective smoking-cessation program he’s ever seen.
We were especially impressed that funds for Street Soccer Canada are raised largely through two social enterprises in Greater Toronto that are run by the players themselves: a laundry service that washes linen for local shelters, and a program that co-ordinates recreation opportunities in shelters. To get to the World Cup, the team raised its own flight costs through a campaign on the crowdfunding site Indiegogo.
“You don’t realize how much it means to those guys,” beams Gregory. “They’re living in poverty. They have no social standing, ignored by people on the street. And now they can pull on a Team Canada jersey and represent their country. What a feeling.”
And when they score, they get something that few homeless Canadians do — a chance to celebrate.
That’s our wish for Troy Scott as he prepares to take the field this week, because otherwise he’s doing all right. He’ll soon move out of the shelter, having cleared his $5,000 debt over the last two months. All that’s left, he says, is to quit smoking.
“It’s the only thing holding me back now — in soccer and in life.”