Home Game by Mel Young and Peter Barr sampler

10
home game
for granted can slip from our grasp. But in those young and idealistic
days, I thought this was a plague that would pass. That
we would find a way to help those homeless people back into a
community. A cure for their – and our – ills.
But still, fifty years on, homelessness is everywhere. No
country is immune from it. Now, as the world wrestles with the
aftermath of a pandemic, it’s even more clear how many lives are
lived right on the edge.
I am one of the fortunate ones. I’ve never lacked a bed for
the night. I’ve never had to go to bed hungry. I’ve always
belonged to a tribe, usually several at a time. One of those tribes
is football.
When I go to games, whether it’s a cup final or a Sunday afternoon
women’s game in a snowstorm, I still feel part of that tribe.
We recognise each other, whether or not we know each other’s
names and histories. We nod acknowledgement, we exchange a
few words, we have a laugh. We talk about our team’s prospects,
we swap stories of past glories and ignominies. We belong. And
belonging always brings us hope in the dark times.
For homeless people, there is little sense of belonging. And so,
there is often little hope. Since the Homeless World Cup began, that
has changed for many of the lives it has touched. Men and women
have been brought together by street soccer. They’ve trained
together and worked together to build something beyond themselves.
They’ve met people like them from all over the world, and
shared their stories, finding common ground, common dreams.
For many of them, life after the tournament has changed forever.
They’ve gone on to jobs, both inside and beyond sport. They’ve
found their tribe. They have homes.
Wherever the tournament has been played, its impact has
spread far beyond the pitch. Spectators have fallen in love with
the spirit and courage of the players. Their stories have moved
strangers who now see for themselves the humanity of the drama