Almost anyone in a powered wheelchair can play this game, which frees the need to compete.
By RYAN MEEHAN
Published September 3, 2004
[Times photo: Joseph Garnett Jr.]
Danny Gorman, 13, dribbles the ball down court as Elio Navarro, 24, tries to intercept him. Navarro, who wants to form a league in Tampa, lured a team from Atlanta to do a demonstration.
On one side of the YMCA gym, players dribble and shoot in a routine game of basketball. On the other side, players zip around on electric wheelchairs, maneuvering a ball past a goal line.
Benjamin Carpenter, 9, watches from the sideline as wheelchairs race up and down the court, vying for control of a giant soccer ball. His parents and grandparents snap digital pictures as his chair is fitted with a plastic foot guard.
Carpenter, who lives in Brandon, has spinal muscular atrophy. He can't walk and has little strength his arms.
Like most boys his age, he loves to compete. He has tried wheelchair basketball and hockey.
But nothing like this.
* * *
Power Soccer was the last thing on Elio Navarro's mind when he picked up a magazine in his office a few weeks ago. Inside was a story about the sport he had played as a teenager at a summer camp for children with muscular dystrophy. He has been in a wheelchair since he was 10 and, like Carpenter, has spinal muscular atrophy.
Inspired and eager to learn more, the University of South Florida graduate and Web software developer who lives in Citrus Park tracked down Power Soccer guru Jerry Frick, who agreed to bring a team from Atlanta to do a demonstration in Tampa.
Navarro, 24, got permission to use the gymnasium at the Interbay-Glover Family YMCA on Himes Avenue and then contacted Cathy Williams, a recreational therapist at the James A. Haley VA Medical Center, to help him start a league. To spread the word, he launched www.powersoccertampa.net
On Aug. 22, about a dozen people came to the gym to learn more about the sport. They circled Frick, who ran drills, explained game rules and offered tactics.
The game, played on a regulation-size basketball court, is less about power, as its name suggests, than about maneuverability. Blocking an opponent's chair is allowed and encouraged; checking is not. Driving backward is also illegal.
Two teams of four try to push an 18-inch soccer ball across a goal line that spans nearly the width of the court. Affixed to the foot rests of each wheelchair are plastic or metal foot guards that the players use to punch or steer the ball.
The large ball is designed to keep the chairs from bumping into one another, but with eight players converging at different speeds, collisions are commonplace.
"It can be very aggressive," says player Ludger "Pep" Pepin, as he wipes blood from his right front wheel.
During a scrimmage earlier, his hand got wedged between his arm rest and another player's. When the two collided, the skin tore between his right pinky and ring finger.
No big deal, though. Some duct tape and a towel did the trick. Minutes later he was back on the court, steering with his thumb.
Pepin, a disabled Vietnam veteran who was recruited by Williams to attend the event, points to the battle scars on his wheelchair and foot guard. The game can be punishing to chairs, which can cost upward of $25,000.
But it's worth it, he says.
"Look at those kids out there," Pepin says as he takes a break and switches bandages. "Their lives are just beginning. What are you going to tell them - You can't play because you might hurt the chair? I say if it hurts the chair, (the company) better make a better one."
Pepin, 56, was hit by an artillery shell in Vietnam in 1968 and broke his neck. Although he walked again, his condition worsened, and 10 years ago he lost the use of his legs.
Today he's at the YMCA, hoping Navarro can generate enough local interest to form a team. Despite living about four hours away in Live Oak, Pepin says he'll commute if it means he can play.
Williams works to restore the lives of disabled vets. She has seen a recent influx of people injured while serving in Iraq. She researches their lives preinjury and tries to create a recreation plan they would enjoy.
She learned about Power Soccer through the annual National Veterans Wheelchair Games, where the sport is played. The game is special because it caters to people of all ages who are the most disabled, she said. Unlike other wheelchair sports, even quadriplegics who operate a chair with a straw can play.
"It gives them back that competitive edge," she says.
* * *
Jerry Frick came Tampa to generate local interest for Power Soccer but has bigger plans in mind. He, Eric Dornan, Dakotah Smith and David Ruelas have traveled the country for the past few years seeking the sport's inclusion in the U.S. Paralympics.
To be eligible, at least six countries must field teams, he said. So far there are four: the United States, Canada, Japan and France.
Frick said those countries are planning to form an international alliance to standardize the rules of the game, which will increase the chances of making the Paralympics.
In the meantime, Frick and the others are offering Power Soccer clinics in different cities. They are sponsored by the Fernando Foundation (www.fernandofoundation.org) which was named after David Ruelas' brother, a Power Soccer enthusiast who died of leukemia at age 30.
* * *
Back on the court, the excitement for Benjamin Carpenter has turned sour for a moment. The plastic foot guards required for the game don't seem to fit on his chair, which is different from other players'. His father, Jim, grabs a ratchet and helps Ruelas pull apart guards in an attempt to cobble together one that will work.
After a few tense minutes tightening wing nuts and washers, Ruelas figures it out.
"All right, buddy," he says to Carpenter, who flashes an ear-to-ear smile upon realizing that he will get to play. "Let's do this."
Ruelas referees the 40-minute scrimmage. He paces up and down the court on foot, weaving in and out of the wheelchairs' paths.
Much like a referee in an ice hockey game, he stays close to the packs of players and blows his whistle at infractions. For major ones, he holds up a black card and awards penalty shots.
A few seconds after the opening kickoff, he blows his whistle and raises his arms straight in the air. He turns and addresses the spectators, who are seeing the game for the first time.
"Hey, guys, that was a goal."
The crowd laughs and applauds wildly for each of the next four scores. Tari and Jim Carpenter mime suggestions to their son as he gets used to the pace.
When he's playing offense, he doesn't hesitate to accelerate down the floor toward the ball, even if it means getting bumped around in the pack.
"It actually feels good to be able to run into something," Benjamin says.
His father couldn't agree more.
"It's nice that we've finally found a sport that rewards you for being fast and destructive in a wheelchair," he says.
About Power Soccer
Power Soccer started 14 years ago but has gained popularity in the United States recently. Teams of four use powered wheelchairs to defend and score points on a goal using an oversized soccer ball. Games have two 25-minute periods. The sport was developed for powered wheelchair users. For information about joining a league in Tampa, call Elio Navarro at 842-6522 or visit www.powersoccertampa.net
