With an expanding set up, including World Cups and U.S. championships, amputee soccer provides competitive opportunities
Amie Donathan was a pretty good golfer in her mid-teens. That was, in fact, her plan – the sport she would stick with. The Texas native had tried sports here and there, but she determined that golf was the one for her.
But a soccer coach found Donathan’s information on a hospital post. There was Donathan, wearing a soccer kit, playing on a prosthetic leg. The coach had no idea how to find her. He ended up reaching out via social media, asking Donathan if she wanted to play soccer.
It’s worth pointing out that Donathan has Proximal femoral focal deficiency. She was born without a left femur or left hip. For much of her life, she used a prosthetic leg to play sports. But when a coach reached out, and explained that she could play on crutches, without a prosthetic, Donathan was curious.
“My mom thought it was a little bit creepy, obviously, at first, but we showed up,” Donathan said. “And that’s how my amputee soccer journey started.”
And with that, she immersed herself in a soccer subculture of sorts. There are myriad barriers to playing the game: race, socioeconomic status, gender tend to be the obvious ones. But what if you’re an athlete with a disability? Well, amputee soccer has an answer, and it’s only becoming more pronounced.
“Soccer is my first love. So I was playing golf, and I really enjoyed it, and I was good at it, but I've always wanted to play soccer,” Donathan said. “So having an opportunity to continue to play the sport that's like, what I really love doing motivated me.”
Mimi Murad, New England RevolutionA new version of the game
Her and many others, too. There are now established men’s and women’s national teams for the United States. There are World Cups, too (Donathan’s women’s side lost on penalties in the final to host nation Colombia last year). Leagues, cups and competitions are expanding.
There are more and more people getting involved in this sport. And it’s highly entertaining.
“The more we can represent this as a sport, rather than a sob story, the more people kind of want to come play it. If they see you walking to a stadium, and these guys are banging into each other, and we're scoring, and there are highlights, people are like, ‘OK, sweet. Like, I'm into it’,” Nico Calabria, captain of the U.S. men’s amputee soccer team told GOAL.
Amputee soccer is backed, supported, and regulated by the World Amputee Football Federation, which, as of 2024, has 51 member nations. Although it does not regulate the sport directly, FIFA acknowledges its existence and has the ability to create and change the rules – as with any version of soccer.
First, the basics. Amputee soccer is a seven-a-side played on a slightly reduced pitch and smaller-than-regulation nets. By rule, outfield players have lower extremity amputations, while goalkeepers have an upper extremity amputation. If you play in the field, you are not allowed to use a prosthetic, and have to use crutches to move.
Games consist of two 25-minute halves. There is no offsides. Substitutions are made on the fly, and goalkeepers will be sent off if they leave their penalty area.
That’s the game. And it’s really good fun.
AdvertisementMimi Murad, New England Revolution'A level playing field'
Nico Calabria grew up mixing it with non-disabled athletes. He needed a prosthetic. He was born without his right leg. But for him, it was all pretty normal.
His family loved soccer, so he played soccer. Sure, he was often the slowest player, a step behind. But it never dissuaded him.
“I grew up playing football with my family. It just ran in the family and I wanted to play, probably prior to realizing that I was doing it much differently,” Calabria said.
But that never really bothered him – and he seldom had any trouble. He played peewee soccer using crutches, and, as he recalls, it was never really a big deal.
“I needed some advocacy on my family side to get me to play in these different leagues,” he said. “But we never really ran into too much trouble. And I think people were mostly welcoming.”
But it was brought to him, as a teenager, that he might be able to feature in a different version of the sport. If he played amputee soccer, he’d comfortably be among the quickest on the pitch.
Still, he had to wait a while. FIFA rules stipulate that athletes can’t compete in international competition before the age of 16. Calabria was chomping at the bit to play against adults. His first amputee game was an international fixture for the United States.
And he was immediately among the best.
“I scored a goal in my first game,” he said. “I went from being like the slowest player on the field that played two touch football in the build up, to becoming one of the fastest players on the field and being told to dribble and take people on.”
It all served as vindication, too. He was playing and he was dominating.
“For the first time in my life, it was a level playing field for me,” he said. “So instead of feeling like I was at a disadvantage, I felt like all the hard work that I put in and my belief in myself as an athlete showed on the field.”
And things only escalated. Calabria now captains the U.S. national team. He founded the New England regional team in 2019, led them to a U.S. Amputee Cup win in 2023, where he finished as tournament MVP and won the golden boot.
“It's really nice to stand out, not for having one leg, but for being a great athlete. And that wasn't always the case when I was playing with two-legged folks,” Calabria said.
Amie Donathan'You could make a national team’
Donathan had given up on soccer. She preferred golf. She had a rare condition and it didn’t seem possible that soccer was a long-term option.
Yet she was given a way back in, showing off her skills while on crutches.
“Basics translate, like, opening up your hips, and where do you hit the ball, on your foot, whenever you want to do this or this. And then, like, obviously, like the soccer IQ and stuff translates,” Donathan said.
But for her, it was a longer road. She hadn’t used crutches competitively. Trying to learn how to dribble, cut, turn and pass at full speed was a journey.
“The thing that I had to work on the most was, obviously, like the use of the crutches, so like swinging through and planting and those things… they don’t translate,” Donathan said.
Still, she loved the challenge. Eight months after first trying amputee soccer, she was invited to try out for the national team. Donathan didn’t think it was real.
“Being told, like, ‘Oh, you could make a national team’ was kind of like mind boggling a little bit,” she said. “Because, I mean, everybody always dreams of playing international football when they're younger, and then their dreams are dashed in, like, middle school. But to have the dream come back, it was kind of surreal.”
That was all the motivation she needed. Her training regimen was mapped out, and she stuck to it – from a young age.
“I would wake up at 5:30 in the morning, go work out before school, go to school, practice for two to three hours after school, six days a week,” Donathan said.
And there she was in Boston in 2021, still a teenager. The trials were rigorous. There was all of the soccer stuff: dribbling, passing, shooting – she had no problem with that. But then there were the agility tests. Those were far more challenging.
“I don’t have hops, but that’s OK,” Donathan admitted.
But the really difficult part, she recalls, were the scrimmages. There, playing with men and women, some older and more experienced, Donathan froze. She didn’t want the ball.
“The problem that I had when I first did the scrimmages was that I was gone,” she said. “I was not confident enough, and I wasn't vocal enough. I'd be playing winger but then I wouldn't call for the ball.”
Fast forward, though, and Donathan was well in the picture for the women’s national team. She scored four goals in the second game of the inaugural women’s World Cup last year.
US Amputee Soccer'Finding that string to the community'
Growing the game is a challenge. Kids can be taught how to play, but there aren’t established youth pipeline programs. It’s mostly a question of support here and there, a network of who might know who.
But involvement can come from strange places. Danielle Potemri is the connective tissue. A pediatric prosthetist full time, Potemri gives up many extra hours managing and organizing New England’s amputee soccer team.
“I make fake legs and arms for people, and I was reached out to by [Calabria] a few years ago just asking if I had any patients that wanted to play soccer and join the team. I didn't have anyone at the time who was interested, but I was interested in helping out,” Potemri.
Her involvement became more pronounced over time. She served as a referee, then she helped organize. These days, she is a de-facto recruiter, who also gives the pitch to potential players.
And they are her patients.
“I’ll find any way to plug it in and just say, like, ‘Hey, if you're interested, there's this really cool opportunity. You don't even have to know how to play soccer, yeah, but if you're if you want to just come watch, it's really cool’,” Potemri said.
The follow up percentage is mixed, she admitted.
“Sometimes they'll give me a hard pass. Sometimes they'll say, ‘Give me the info.’ One out of many will show up,” Potemri said.
But it’s more about the connections built over time. Word of mouth is a powerful thing, Potemri insisted. Just having eyes on the sport can make a significant difference as this thing continues to grow.
“I gave a flyer to this elderly gentleman. He's not going to be playing soccer, but I gave him the flyer, and he and his wife lit up, and they are so excited to come and watch, and I think it's just knowing that it's like finding that string to the community,” she said.
She has helped organize camps and events for kids – and been a vocal advocate for disability sports throughout New England.
This is not necessarily about building a world-class national team, as much as offering an avenue for athletic activity for people who might not have otherwise have one.
“Maybe they want to become a Nico and play nationally and be really involved in competitive and win. Or maybe they want to see the sport and meet other people and find other kids with limb differences,” Potemri said. “So it's just awesome.”
