Seiji Wood

Sports Editor

It’d been about two months. Two months of waking up outside on the streets of Seattle, Washington, abandoned with no money and hardly any food. His parents left him when he was only 13, so this was nothing new for Sam Dowd.

Right then, he was patiently waiting until someone else was willing to take him in, but for the most part he got the same response. “Sorry, Sam, but my parents aren’t comfortable having you stay with us.”

Until he found a place to stay, he lugged around bags filled with clothes and school necessities. He left the bags in the coach’s office during school, and once practice was finished, he picked up his possessions and hit the street again.

One day, he and a few teammates decided to hang out at a Jack in the Box after practice. Dowd took any opportunity to stay away from wandering around deciding where to sleep, to stay away from every painful step on the street reminding him he was alone, to stay away from every step that seemed to foreshadow the direction his life was headed: nowhere.

He did his best to show he was fine, but his friends knew what he was going through, and they saw him hurting. As a group, they gathered enough money to buy him a burger. As Dowd received the greasy burger costing under $5, he broke down into tears.

“It was awesome to see I had family that wasn’t my family,” said Dowd, a point guard for ISU’s basketball team.

The hardship of being homeless is a tough pill to swallow, especially in a state where it rains for majority of the year. Dowd would often find himself overstaying his welcome in gyms playing basketball until employees would kick him out. Basketball was his escape from life.

If you saw Dowd, you wouldn’t be able to tell he was homeless. Yes, his pants were too big, and if you looked close enough, his shirts were worn, but he did his best to appear clean. The problem of youth homelessness isn’t something most people are aware of. Only those who have faced it know the true magnitude.

Dowd knows others like him, but he knew more that weren’t. He would often wonder why this was happening to him. When friends would take him in for a day or two, he would see them with loving parents and see that they’re being taken care of. He longed for that.

Basketball didn’t solve his problems, but it numbed them.

“Basketball was a relief,” Dowd said. “When I was on the court, I didn’t worry about any issues at all.”

Dowd was a sophomore in high school when he met the Millers. He made his way to Spokane, Washington, where he was staying with the Hopkins family, but his time there was running out.

Matt Miller was a senior and met Dowd on the football team, where he was a defensive end. Miller had never hung out with Dowd but always let him know that if he needed anything, he’d help him out. Dowd took that to heart.

“Hey, man, they’re thinking about sending me back to Seattle,” Dowd said. “Can you take me in?”

“What did you do?” Miller said.

“I didn’t do anything. I swear I’m not a bad kid. Is there anything you can do?” Dowd said.

“Yeah, let me talk to my parents and see if we can work something out,” Miller said.

Dowd was welcomed into Ron and Jill Miller’s home the summer of his junior year. Dowd had the chance to relax again. He didn’t have to worry about not having a roof over his head, at least for the time being.

Dowd’s bright smile and upbeat personality magnetized the Millers. They wanted to be more than a pit stop. It took six months before the Millers received legal guardianship of Dowd.

“He became a part of our family,” said Jill Miller. “He found his way into all of our hearts.”

Dowd glanced around his room. An obvious love for the Green Bay Packers popped out with his sheets and blanket representing the team, some memorabilia from his time in Seattle and a few pictures from high school and awards from sports scattered around his room, only to be filled with more in the future.

This was his own man cave. He was in awe at the fact he had his own room and excited that he could finally be a kid again, but more importantly, he had a place he could call home with a loving family.

“The only thing I was worried about was girls,” Dowd said.

The rest of high school was full of success for Dowd. He passed his classes and thrived in basketball. He received a scholarship from Carroll College, an NAIA school. He ended up redshirting his freshman year and moved back home after that year.

After that, Northern Idaho came knocking on Dowd’s door and he played two years there.

During his time at Northern Idaho, Bill Evans, the coach of ISU basketball, noticed Dowd. Evans gave Dowd an opportunity, and Dowd eventually transferred to ISU.

Dowd’s junior year at ISU came with great accomplishment. He won the Most Courageous Award from the NCAA after officials there heard his story. They flew him and his family to San Antonio, Texas, to watch the NCAA’s Final Four.

Dowd is now a senior playing his final year at ISU. Basketball means everything to him, but he knows there’s life outside the game.

From abandonment, homelessness and crying over a hamburger to finding a family, home and basketball success, Dowd has his fair share of experience.

“It’s more than basketball,” Dowd said. “It’s about relationships and people that care about you in life.”