Aug. 9 (Bloomberg) -- Victor is the first player to arrive. A 28-year-old laborer from Ecuador, he doesn't have a passport. He doesn't speak English. He doesn't have a home.

He's followed by Mahdi, a 25-year-old from Sudan who has no green card and no job. And then there's Gerson, a 28-year-old Haitian who hasn't worked in almost 18 months.

A list of things these homeless men don't have is a lengthy one. They, however, focus on what they do possess, which is a collective love of soccer.

``Wherever it's played,'' Gerson said before his team practiced the other day, ``that's where I am.''

Their affection for the sport brings these men together every Sunday night inside the sixth-floor gymnasium of a Manhattan school. There are regulars, like player/coach Mahdi, semi-regulars and newcomers. There are also dropouts.

There is camaraderie and competition. There is also hope for something more, something better.

``It's about bringing isolated, disparate people into a community,'' says Jeff Grunberg, founder and president of the USA Homeless World Cup.

Yes, there is a World Cup for homeless people, made possible with help from corporate sponsors such as Nike, Adidas, Coca-Cola and Bank of America.

The players, many of whom live on the street or in shelters, arrive for practice, exchange handshakes and salutations. The chit-chat ceases when their new coach, the one with the English accent and a penchant for good deeds, blows his whistle.

Practice, 26-year-old Mick Watson wants them to know, begins at 6 p.m., not 6:15.

``Volunteering is always more fun,'' Watson says before running his first drills.

Street Papers

The idea for organized homeless soccer was hatched in 2001, late at night, in -- no surprise here -- a bar. It began as an argument between newspaper editors belonging to a group called the International Network of Street Papers. Representatives from Austria and Scotland began boasting about their country's abundance of talent. Argument begot action.

For those unfamiliar with the specifics of the sport, here's a primer: The homeless play street soccer, a five-against-five contest, including goalkeepers. The outdoor field is about the size of a tennis court. There are 7-minute halves.

The New York team is headed to Charlotte, North Carolina, for the inaugural Homeless World Cup USA on Aug. 19 and 20. They'll compete against clubs from Philadelphia, Atlanta, Washington and Charlotte.

World Cup

From there a team of eight will be chosen to represent the U.S. at the Homeless World Cup Sept. 23-30 in South Africa. The U.S. is one of 48 participating countries, including Afghanistan, Brazil, China and Italy.

The first Homeless World Cup was held in 2003 in Austria, where crowds topped 50,000, followed by Sweden and Scotland last year.

Jorge Lopez, a 24-year-old from Honduras, was part of the U.S. team that participated in Sweden. He was homeless then. Now he has a steady job as a maintenance man.

``I like playing,'' he says in broken English. ``We play together.''

On the street it's all about me. On the soccer field it's we first. It matters.

``Homelessness is about detachment,'' says Grunberg, a sociologist who publishes the street newspaper BIGnews, which the homeless of New York often sell in the subway. ``Sports is a way to facilitate attachment.''

Life Change

The real World Cup, the one with millionaire players, immaculate fields and billions watching on TV, will be remembered for Zinedine Zidane's head-butt of an Italian player in overtime of the championship game. It was won by Italy, which, as it happens, is the two-time defending champion at the Homeless Cup.

Among the program's success stories is Brooklyn, New York- born Craig Hollie, who grew up in group homes and then lived on the streets. At his first practice, recalled Lawrence Cann, who is organizing the Charlotte event, the frustrated teenager put his hand through a wall. Not only is Hollie working at a soul food restaurant these days, but his soccer temperament has changed, too.

``Now he's the guy who calms people down,'' Cann said via telephone.

According to the Homeless World Cup, of the 217 players who participated in last year's championship, 77 percent have changed their lives significantly. Thirty-eight percent have regular employment, 40 percent have housing and 28 percent have sought further education and training.

A Turnaround

Among them is 41-year-old Luke Pettersen, who credits socialization through soccer for his improved situation. Pettersen, who wasn't feeling well on Sunday night, spent most of practice reading a book entitled, ``Get Out of Your Own Way.'' Pettersen says he heading to the State University of New York at Binghamton in the fall.

``It's all about regard for their sense in society. They know they're functioning very low, but they don't want to be talked down to,'' says Grunberg, whose brother, Ron, is also active in the program. ``Their living situations are precarious, but they're strong people.''

And from what I witnessed the other night in that gym they're pretty good soccer players, too.

(Scott Soshnick is a Bloomberg News columnist. The opinions expressed are his own.)

To contact the writer of this column: Scott Soshnick in New York at ssoshnick@bloomberg.net

Last Updated: August 9, 2006 00:06 EDT