EVER wondered, when you've seen somebody begging for change, or slumped in a doorway, about the chain of events that could bring somebody to that place? Now imagine all the stories that must have been swirling around last year's Homeless World Cup, like so many leaves on a street. BBC's Storyville turned its cameras towards team USA, made up of New Yorkers drawn from the city's shelter system. Taking place in the town of Graz in Austria, the tournament featured 18 international teams, including Ireland, with games played four against four on a concrete pitch.

From the training sessions shown beforehand, it was difficult to hold out much hope for the Americans. The main player, in both the team and the documentary itself, was Harris. Harris is a manic depressive who looks like you'd imagine John Lennon would have looked if himself and Yoko had knocked a good 10 years out of his in-bed protest.

With his huge beard, wild hair and round glasses, he couldn't have looked less like a footballer. His past included time as lead singer with a metal band called Letch Patrol, with his current occupation selling books on the street. Something of an individualist, Harris seemed determined to just play through the opposition with sheer force, and wasn't inclined to trust his teammates to do likewise.

On arrival in Graz, we caught a glimpse of some of the other squads.

The Swiss seemed to be made up solely of hairy septuagenarians. Brazil looked just as you'd expect Brazil to look: lithe, young and skilful. The Austrians, representing the host nation, looked far more similar to Brazil than their neighbours, raising the question of what measures were being taken to ensure the selection process was genuine.

The USA's qualifying group was completed by Spain, Slovakia and Sweden, with each side playing each other twice.

Slovakia were dispatched 9-4 in the first game, with Harris the star of the show. Next up were Sweden, who won a thrilling game 6-5, with Harris getting more and more agitated by things not going his way. Before the next game against Spain, the PA announcer didn't call out his correct surname, leading to an almighty strop; a strop that only got worse when the team anthem was cut off halfway through.

By the time the next game against Slovakia came round, he was the most famous player in the tournament, described by the PA announcer as "Bad Boy Harris Hankin". In the second game against Sweden, he was playing to the galleries, throwing McEnroe tantrums and running across penalties. Eventually he was sent off, with Sweden winning 4-1. The final group game against Spain was a must-win, but Harris was left out.

His side won 1-0 after a magnificent performance from goalkeeper Rory, an unassuming soul who seemed to be having the inverse experience to Harris.

Sitting in an outdoor cafe having breakfast, he warmly received the praise of some fans just a fortnight after getting beaten up outside a shelter in New York.

"I would love to live here man, gimme a year here man, just a year."

In a silently comical scene after his heroic display against Spain, Rory lay face down on a massage table while two local and obviously admiring female physios took it in turns to massage his ass.

The team's first knockout game was against South Africa, but Harris remained in a loud sulk. The team coach weakly called him in for a meeting, wondering if he knew so much about competitiveness, how should they go about winning? Harris decided he knew the best way to wind up a black South African team, a suggestion that inevitably didn't go down well with his predominantly black teammates. "But this is a war!" yelled Harris. "It's not a war, fool, it's a soccer game, " came the reply.

While everyone else was having the time of their lives, Harris had reached breaking point. As the US lost 5-2 to South Africa, he roamed outside with his team jersey on, doing Nazi salutes in front of children. Despite losing, after the match the US side were jubilant, still just delighted and honoured to be at the tournament, to be hailed by the crowds and treated as ordinary and sometimes extraordinary people. But Harris's condition deteriorated, and the next day was spent running around the team's accommodation, shouting obscenities at people and behaving just like the tragic stereotype of a homeless person.

Eventually an ambulance was called, and he was carried to hospital, sedated and tied to a chair.

Meanwhile, first impressions proved accurate and Austria played Brazil in the final, Austria winning on penalties.

The team selection may have looked a little dodgy, but the host nation could be forgiven after putting on an incredible tournament with capacity crowds for every game and what appeared to be widespread public support.

At the raucous closing ceremony, Harris's name was called and received the cheer of the night. After a few weeks in an Austrian hospital, he was welcomed back to New York by the entire squad. A caption informed that he continues to sell books on the street, presumably regaling eye-rolling customers with tales of his time as the bad boy of world soccer.

This was a minimalist yet excellent documentary. With no voiceover and a little information imparted with subtitles, no one was judged or categorised or labelled as a victim. The camera was merely present while everyone spoke and played for themselves.

Ireland, by the way, finished fifth in the tournament, and must have plenty of their own stories to tell.