When Dana Ricker moved to Maine four years ago, she didn’t imagine screaming into a megaphone, “Our Home is Here… at Fitzy Park…” to thousands of Mainers packing the stands at Fitzpatrick Stadium for each Portland Hearts of Pine soccer game. But the same voice that commands attention in her middle school social studies classroom now rallies an entire fan base.
Growing up in Minnesota, soccer was not on Ricker’s radar, but while studying abroad in England during her junior year, two things shifted her thinking: she met her future husband, Josh—a lifelong soccer fan from Maine—and she realized she wanted to become a teacher.
Originally a criminal justice major focused on juvenile delinquency, Ricker always imagined working with kids, but not in a classroom. The summer of her junior year, she worked at a camp and fell in love with it. “My campers were middle school-aged, and I loved it,” she says. Friends noticed too. “They told me, ‘You’d be such a good teacher,’ and I had this moment of, that’s basically what I’m doing—why wouldn’t I be a good teacher?”
That offhand comment from a friend became the spark she needed. “I felt like criminal justice was a lot of reaction to things,” she says. “Teaching felt preventative—almost like catching things beforehand.” By December, she emailed her advisor, switched majors, and committed to a fifth year to earn her teaching certification.
“I had never thought of education before,” Ricker says. “I just really enjoyed history, so it was a perfect fit.” Her college, University of Wisconsin–Eau Claire—originally a teachers’ college—had a strong education program. “I already had friends in education, and I met some professors because they taught history. It felt like everything lined up.”
After graduation, Ricker and Josh moved to Maine, where he grew up. Here Ricker began her teaching career, first at Oxford Hills, and now at Gorham Middle School where she teaches middle school social studies and is a member of the Gorham Teachers Association.
→A Voice that Commands the Masses
Initially, Ricker’s involvement with Dirigo Union—the Hearts of Pine supporters’ group—was simply a way to support her husband. “Josh is a huge soccer fan and always has been,” Ricker explains.
“I never watched soccer growing up. I have never played soccer. My high school didn’t even have a soccer team,” she says.
At first, Ricker stood quietly in the back at Dirigo Union events, there to cheer on her husband. But she says she’s not wired to stay silent. “I’m a very opinionated person,” she laughs. “They’d ask, ‘What do we think about this?’ and I’d chime in from the back, ‘I think you should do this!’ I had ideas, so I started putting them out there.”
In the back of her mind, she imagined herself as a capo. For those unfamiliar with European soccer, the term might sound foreign. Many Mainers hadn’t heard it until Ricker grabbed the bullhorn at Fitzpatrick Stadium and energized “The Zoo” fan section.
“People initially think I’m like a cheerleader on the sidelines if they haven’t seen me,” she says. “Once they experience it, they get it immediately. There’s nothing like it in American sports.”
For soccer fans, the capo—the leader of chants and cheers in the supporters’ section—is crucial, rallying energy and coordinating songs throughout the match. Ricker first imagined herself in the role after watching a woman capo lead the crowd at a Minnesota United game. “I remember thinking how awesome it was to see a woman commanding the energy of the stadium.” Naturally, Ricker saw herself in that role for the Dirigo Union, and others did as well.
While Ricker doesn’t have a background in soccer, or a lifetime of fandom to lean on when developing chants, she does have a background in music, theater, and teaching, which she says has been valuable. “I like to think I understand how cadence and lyrics work. I model a lot of our chants after European clubs—and then adapt them for us.”
Her skills are put to great use, and her presence is hard to miss as fans pile into Fitzpatrick Stadium for a Hearts of Pine home game. If she isn’t one of the first people you see, she’s definitely one of the first people you hear. Her voice has become the heartbeat of the fan section.
And it’s no surprise her classroom skills come alive on game day. Ricker says she introduces a new chant to the crowd the same way she would explain something to her class of seventh graders. “If we have a new chant, we spend the first 10 minutes before kickoff teaching it [to the crowd],” she says. “”I explain it the same way I would explain a new concept to my seventh graders: ‘First, we’re going to do this; then this.’ Then I recap and make sure they heard me. I explain each chant five different ways.”
That ability to teach a crowd something new has become her superpower. “Other capos sometimes just say a chant once and assume people will get it,” she notes. “But my teaching background makes this whole process much easier.”
→Classroom Capo
Sometimes, the chants at Fitzpatrick Stadium find their way into Ricker’s lesson plans. This year, while teaching eighth graders about the Civil War, she tied in the song, Ballad of the 20th Maine, which the Dirigo Union start each game with at Fitzpatrick Stadium.
“We were learning about the 20th Maine,” she explains. “It was a way for my students to see a part of their state history they can be proud of—and how it impacts pop culture. History is not just a stagnant thing in the past. I love being able to show how culture works and sports are a part of culture.”
That lesson sparked deeper conversations. “We talked about how the song could be digested by other people, how it could be used by the club,” she says. “It was a way for students to analyze their own culture—what does being a Mainer mean to them? How does that translate to sports culture? And if you don’t like sports, how can you still be part of it? Social studies class reflects culture so much, and that’s my favorite part.”
Her students embraced the connection. “Later, one of my students said, ‘I actually looked up Andrew Tozier—he was a real person. Did you know that, Mrs. Ricker?’” she recalls with a smile.
Ricker’s bedazzled megaphone even makes appearances at Gorham Middle School. As a member of the school’s leadership team, she helped revive pep rallies this year. “Our principal described the vibe he wanted, and everyone turned to me,” she says. “‘This feels like something you’re uniquely qualified for.’ And I thought, you’re right—I am.”
It’s great to see the two worlds collide. “I brought out my bullhorn and said, ‘Here we go.’ It felt like a Hearts of Pine game,” she laughs. “I’m way more hyped than the kids are, and that’s my favorite thing.”
Students love sharing their excitement for the Hearts with her. “Even out of season, I have three students who constantly ask, ‘Did you see the new signing, Mrs. Ricker? What do you think?’ One student is obsessed with JayTee Kamara,” she says. Ricker even messaged Kamara on Instagram so he could send a note to her student. “It is such a cool way to connect with my students.”
The Hearts have become part of school culture, too. “It’s so cool to see kids wearing the merch,” Ricker says. “Before the Hearts, to get a 13-year-old boy to wear a T-shirt that says, ‘Lead With Your Heart,’ you’d have had to pay him a million bucks.”
“It says a lot to be a woman taller than everyone else, taking up the most space, being the loudest—and being praised for it,” she says. “That’s not the case everywhere.”
Dana Ricker
Gorham Teachers Association
→A Community Built on Voice and Vision
For Ricker, Hearts of Pine has become more than soccer—it’s a reflection of Maine itself. “It’s as much about community as it is about soccer,” she says. “The team is intentional about building community, so it feels natural that fans do the same. Through their work with youth soccer teams and their involvement with New Mainer groups, they’ve become a bridge that reflects the community around us.”
That bridge matters in a state where diversity varies widely. “A lot of the state is very diverse, but a lot of the state is very not diverse,” Ricker explains. “This feels like a really big bridge from what people might have been used to.”
However, she admits that some of the most powerful moments are often the quiet ones. “There have been a couple of times this year where little girls came up just to say hi,” Ricker recalls. “Sometimes it’s about nothing, sometimes it’s chatting about soccer—but that’s been the most special part for me.”
One memory stands out. “I met a girl at a game one week and mom texted me a picture of us talking,” Ricker says. “And then there’s this photo of her off in the distance with a little camera, taking pictures of her group because she thinks it’s the coolest thing in the world. Just them wanting to come say hi—it makes me so happy.”
For those girls, Ricker is proof that there’s a place for them in sports. “It says a lot to be a woman taller than everyone else, taking up the most space, being the loudest—and being praised for it,” she says. “That’s not the case everywhere.”
Despite her confidence on gameday, she laughs about not knowing every rule. “I might not know why a player is offsides or not offsides,” she admits. “But I still have a place there because I’m using what I excel at—and that’s enough.”
Her talent—her voice—has built something rare, which Ricker says is not common for other teams in the league. For her students, and young Hearts of Pine fans, that voice means more than chants. It means seeing themselves reflected in a team and a community that celebrates them. It means discovering what leadership, inclusion, and joy sound like when a teacher’s voice carries across a grandstand.
“I had absolutely no fear going up to it. I knew we were going to build something, and it would be great. It feels so good to be part of something bigger.”
