Serving his country on the field of play
|Description of Image. Donnie Nicholson representing Street Soccer USA at the 2012 Homeless World Cup in Mexico
A fluffy black cat tail purposefully flicks across the screen, momentarily interrupting the conversation taking place between Scotland and the USA.
“Please excuse Zander,” the voice in California laughs.
A good Scottish name, short for Alexander, I remark.
“Ah interesting,” my transatlantic contact muses. “My given name is Donald Alexander Nicholson.”
Too good a moniker not to have at least some Celtic roots to it, surely?
“Actually, I do have some Scottish ancestry and my maternal grandfather was Irish – a Bonner,” replies Donald Alexander aka Donnie Nicholson. “He was a policeman at the US Capitol while he was going to law school – apparently, he was quite the character. I also have Welsh, Spanish Basque, Polish, Indigenous American and West African in my DNA; Namibia, Botswana and South Africa are the locations of ancestry, more specifically Khoisan, Aka and Mbuti Peoples."
A veritable one-man Homeless World Cup multi-national representative, right there. So how did American resident Donnie, currently sharpening his focus for the Sacramento 2023 Homeless World Cup, become involved in the global tournament? Well, it’s a story that begins across the Pacific...
“I was born on a military base in Japan just as the Vietnam war was ending, so I don’t have an American birth certificate and am considered as a stateless citizen,” he explains. “We moved to a base in Texas and my mum got me into soccer there when I was about six – I still have the photo of me winning the end of season trophy for my team, the Stallions.
“Moving around bases so much, having something stable where a bunch of kids were going to coalesce, a place and a time where something was going to happen was unique. If you’re moving around, you must readjust constantly. The US military used to have an organisation called American Youth Association (AYA), a hub for all your after-school activities. There were other sports on offer but soccer was the most consistent, especially when we lived in Germany.”
As a military dependent, Donnie is a member of an exclusive club comprising half of one per cent of the US population, interpreting the world in a unique way due to the multinational experiences he’s had. It also means he’d had minimal exposure to daily life in the US hence, in his eyes, a career in the military seemed the safest place to be.
“Being in uniform there seemed less likelihood of not being accepted, it felt more like a state of empowerment,” he adds. “I think a lot of people join up because it’s advertised as this place which has a lot of answers, there’s a pathway to education, housing and security. Civilian life is seen as a rat race, you worry about the bigger fish all the time, but in the military you have regulations that moderate these things.”
After gaining the General Education Degree required to join the services, Donnie chose the Navy. Initially signed up for four years, he re-enlisted after three while serving at the Fleet Information Warfare centre in Virginia. As an avionics technician he was valued at his workshop, was soon put into leadership positions and studied full time to gain expertise. The turning point came when he moved to another base (duty station).
“Initially it was a lot of sleepless nights, anxiety, inability to focus or concentrate,” he recalls. “I wasn’t managing my private life because I knew my time at my first command was ending. I’d have to move to a new place and make new friends, possibly in a different country.
“I was transferred to the USS Nassau which was in dry dock for a refit so the ship’s crew was unable to live on the ship. There was a berthing vessel with tiny quarters so I was living out of my car, basically homeless, while in the military on a base.
“There was also a culture then if you had a depressive episode, if you were feeling bad or anxious, you were told to raise up your time-out card because you needed a break. It sounds neat but the way it was presented was ‘if you need to tap up and be a woos raise your hand, leave the group and make a big deal out of it.’.”
By the time Donnie worked up the courage to ask for assistance he first sought out the chaplain for help and direction – to no avail – then contacted the medics as he wasn’t sleeping, had anxiety and couldn’t focus, one of the issues being there was no work for him to do during the refit. All still fruitless.
“My recourse, because it was popular at the time, was to take MDMA to help with the symptoms because I was told it would help relieve my stress,” he explains. “Next day I felt such relief, I could walk through my day without worrying I was bumping into concrete walls all the time and the mental clarity was there – but it’s something I’m not meant to be taking.”
After sleeping in and arriving late on duty one day Donnie confided his situation in his senior officer who assured him he would be looked after. A follow-up urine analysis unsurprisingly found substances, his right to representation at the ensuing enquiry was denied, he was given a non-judicial punishment and summarily dismissed from the military.
“The captain never opened my file, never saw my leadership decisions, never read my commendations and I spent the next 22 years correcting that wrong.
“Twenty-two years of my life.”
A civilian, and homeless, overnight he lived out of his car then couch surfed. The crowd he was hanging out with were into the drug and party scene and Donnie got sucked in. Now aged 24, he ended up returning to Texas and trying to start over.
“It was a steady decline,” he recalls. “I’d moved back in with my mother, who herself had retired seven years earlier after 20 years in the air force. I got a job in a bar, working the club scene with its alcohol and drugs, and cocaine and crystal became part of the vibe.
“I got into a relationship, we lost a baby, then we broke up. My mum passed away eighteen months later from lung cancer, in 2003, so I moved in with my grandmother then she died in 2005 so I was alone again. There was no help for me as I couldn’t access veterans’ administration benefits because of the character and narrative of my discharge.
“My sister was a full-time student then and my dad was overseas, remarried. Some family members tried to help via public mental health facilities but those can end up being pill-mills and it had a very negative impact on my physical and mental health.”
Come July 2006, in agreement with an uncle, Donnie moved back into his grandmother’s house then, without warning, his relative called the police on him. Coming to in a holding cell in the county jail, he was pinned down, pepper sprayed and drugged with Thorazine. He attempted suicide before a family connection ensured the case came before a judge, the charges were dropped and he was released. The nightmare was only beginning, however, as a diagnosis of bipolar disorder led to a dozen hospital stays with medications continually counteracting each other.
“My last hospital stay was April 2010 in south Texas,” he says. “I’d told the doctors there was no point repeating the process so I went cold turkey from medication.”
Three months later he left Texas, stayed in Virginia for a month, then arrived in New York. Donnie got into the shelter system, came across Street Soccer USA (SSUSA) and joined his first session.
“There’s a string of offices at the HELP USA shelter on Ward’s Island, where the councillors are based. One councillor seemed completely different from the others – called Will, he was wearing shorts, sneakers and had a soccer ball with him. When he invited me to go play, I didn’t realise it was a developing programme, with a specific purpose – to me it was just good to move and play for leisure.
“I hadn’t kicked a ball since leaving the Navy because what was the point? There was no community for me so I gave up on sports. I couldn’t even watch soccer on TV. You get butterflies when you get so excited about something you love so much and when you hate to feel like that, feel that kind of love because it’s beyond your reach…I couldn’t watch it again, couldn’t even tell you who played in World Cups or know any of the names for ten years.
“The first time I kicked a football again it was inside a gym and there were walls, and a set-up I’d never seen before. Like, where’s the grass and the trees? I’d always thought I needed to go outside to play. Now I understood I could do it in small spaces which completely changed my perception of the game, how I approached it and how I could participate.
“It was liberating. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d run for a stretch or had clarity and focus. It’s part of prey drive to see something bounce which then grabs your attention. From a biological angle to be involved in a group effort, to communicate non verbally, to trust someone to give you a solid pass – you don’t get that on the street where you’re on guard and unable to rely on people to do anything for you.”
Then something happened which really struck a chord with him. Will took Donnie and the Street Soccer team to an event at the French Embassy in Washington DC followed by a visit to Arlington National Cemetery, burial site for the US military, where they witnessed the ceremony of the guardsman – every hour, at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, its military guard is changed.
“I was a ceremonial guard when I started in the service so I looked at myself, saw what had been taken away from me and it really hit. I’d been out of the service for ten years, hadn’t been on a military base, or seen folks in uniform. My sister was now in the Marine Corps but I still felt ostracised from my culture. That set me on a path of correcting a lot of things, using soccer as a way to do that.”
An invitational soccer event in North Carolina in late 2010 was the first time Donnie met participants from different Street Soccer programmes as far away as Minnesota. He was blown away to discover it wasn’t just happening at one shelter in one city – there were many, all working towards the same goal.
“I’d never experienced anything like that before and it reminded me of the AYA youth association I’d encountered as a kid where everyone benefited. That was a great comfort because I’d found something that I’d lost.”
Being chosen to represent the USA in HWC Mexico 2012, however, was preceded by the disappointment of not being selected for Paris the year before. With a new, positive mindset Donnie took that not as a loss but an opportunity to bring something bigger to the table next time. A whole year to get in better shape and improve his co-ordination on the field in Harlem while working at the 101 Deli and getting to know his neighbourhood in Rockaway Beach on the outskirts of New York. He also began to help coach the women’s team at a shelter in Brooklyn – “Anything related to soccer, I’d volunteer and take the train!”
Fast forward to early 2012 and the selection tournament for Mexico. Donnie recalls:
“We were all sitting there with our legs crossed, looking up expectantly. My name was announced last, so the pressure was really building. I had a whole train ride home to keep it together as it hit me that all my efforts were paying off. I was going to be able to leave the country again, which was my life as a kid, and I was going to be someone again.”
With three months until the event, training at the shelter would often focus on the basics for Donnie’s benefit. He would also take his ball up and down the Rockaway boardwalk – covered in nails and loose boards – aware he didn’t have nearly the same athleticism as he had as a kid. He wanted to be taken seriously as a footballer and, equally, as a person.
Walking on to the pitch for the first time in Mexico City, he admits to having mixed feelings.
"I was super proud to be standing with my team mates but at the same time I’m a veteran of the US military who’s representing homeless individuals, trying to recover and step out of my situation.
“I felt I had some ambassadorship in that respect and I should be modelling the best that I can but, as a US service member, as much as I took pride in the fact that I worked hard to be there, to be in that position at all was embarrassing.
“And then we’re playing Bosnia & Herzegovina. I remember, while in service, my supervisors speaking about the US having a slow reaction to providing aid during the war there, so I was anxious there would be any animosity shown on the field to this – there was none.”
Donnie admits the whole experience took time to digest, initially feeling browbeaten because the US didn’t win and he felt the team didn’t play with enough heart. Then came the positives.
“The connections that I made with people from Morocco, Finland, all over – I still have some of these folks on my LinkedIn, as professional contacts now. For the first time in years, I was with people speaking languages other than English, like when I was growing up.
“I felt so much more at home surrounded by complete strangers all playing the same game than I did in my own country, and was sad to leave that. I wanted to stay involved, hoping to live that scene again. I stuck around and showed my face so much that I felt they acquiesced and gave me a coaching spot with the women’s team.”
Hurricane Sandy hit the eastern seaboard shortly after the team returned and, with it, came a mass intrusion of media and photographers, sparking off a new direction for Donnie. He explains:
“My exposure to the media and the personal relationships I’d developed with the photographers from the tournament influenced my decision on how to express myself using imagery, poetry and a study of realism. I started a Facebook page in March 2013, after a friend lent me a camera to photograph some games. He looked at the images, thought they were good – then he gave me the camera.
“I was trying to use soccer to cope with life – when I play, I’m really animated, like a five-year-old with the ball – but with the camera it’s an expression of something deeper, especially when you’re playing with light which can really affect moods.
“I was using social media as a big beta test, to see what people were saying about my photos – then it got to the point where businesses in the neighbourhood were hijacking my images to use for online sales. A friend connected me with an incredible photographer, Daniel Byrne, and I went to work with him part time, getting exposed to a working professional in fine art photography, learning so much.”
In 2015 – following a knee injury and financial challenges – Donnie left Street Soccer, breaking ties with many of those to whom he’d grown close.
"Also, a friend had connected me with legal services to address my Navy discharge and that was uncovering all kinds of issues,” he adds. “I had to go to therapy, take care of bills, had to focus elsewhere. Turning my back on soccer again was one of the hardest things I’d ever done and I felt disgusted with myself. Last time I’d done that I ended up homeless, strung out and getting the worst kind of help.”
He didn’t rely on photography as a major source of income until 2017, following an entire year of paid internship with Byrne while doing other jobs to make ends meet. Still being on disability (payment) also limited his income – earn too much and benefits would be lost; lose the disability and there’s no guarantee work would sustain him financially.
What ensued was an aggressive four-year plan. In 2019, once he had enough savings to fund his goal of re-starting education, Donnie left work.
“It was a leap of faith as I wasn’t relying on an income, just on the grants I was getting,” he says. “I didn’t qualify for housing benefits so had to manage my own money for that. I hadn’t been in school for a long time so I was rusty on studying and my handwriting, taking notes, was atrocious at the start. I tried to do it the hard way as much as possible because I needed to work at it.
“Before I reconnected with Street Soccer, prior to moving to San Francisco three years ago, I tried out for my (San Diego) college soccer team, at the age of 43 – and made it on. I could reinvest in soccer, it was a stable thing for me. In fact, I don’t think I would have got my associate degree at college had I not been on the soccer team. I was surrounded by the soccer language and culture I was used to while also trying to absorb this new educational information.
“Then I got transferred to San Francisco (State University), spoke with Rob Cann, Co-founder and Managing Director of Street Soccer USA, and offered to volunteer. Being involved with soccer in any shape or form is more beneficial than not.”
A few weeks ago, this round of hard work paid off as Donnie graduated with a BA in Art History & Studio Arts with a Museum Studies Minor, with Honours, and is currently interning with the USS Hornet Sea, Air and Space Museum. The cherry atop this graduation cake is that he’s also been invited to be an official photographer at Homeless World Cup in Sacramento next month.
“It was mind-blowing – I feel like I’ve come full circle. I’m so excited to see the event here in the US and I hope that we’re a gracious host. I have a new camera arriving so trust that’ll be of benefit and hope my degree will inform the way I tell stories and capture images.”
Turning the focus back on Donnie, how would he frame Homeless World Cup to those who may not be familiar with the organisation? There follows silence, a sigh, and a long moment of deep thought.
“It’s hard to describe why soccer is so transformative. It’s this connection you can have with someone else. It doesn’t have to be competition, just passing the ball back and forth, the give and take.
“It’s the non-verbal communication, the high fives, the happy stuff. I feel today’s society is so busy going from A to B we don’t see the good things on the way. Soccer gives me an opportunity to slow down and the Homeless World Cup is a big safe space in which to unveil ourselves to people.”
Then animated soccer Donnie takes the stage. “On the USS Hornet I recently I asked my co-workers if they’d ever put on a military uniform and they said no. We have a bunch of uniforms on the ship so I asked them to try them on then look at themselves in the mirror. They stood up straight, shoulders back, looking proud. People’s posture changes when they put on a uniform – or their favourite team’s jersey.
“Whatever it is, that uniformity is empowering – and that feeling of empowerment, when it’s held by a team, with the backing of your whole country is insane. Even though in the US being homeless has a very negative connotation, changing people’s perspective of what they’re seeing by way of this organisation and this event is vitally important, and I know that it works. I have seen the change; I’ve been the change and I take immense pride in that.”
Find out more about the Sacramento 2023 Homeless World Cup
Words: By Isobel Irvine