Last year, we ran programs alongside a charismatic man known as Coach Victor through a charitable organization called Deportes Por Una Vida Mejor. Back then, Coach Vic had excitedly toured me around a facility soon to be called “Club Vallarta” – a safe haven for children from one of the poorest colonias in the entire area. It was very much still a work in progress, but Victor spoke with passion and excitement as he toured me through empty classrooms soon to be filled with desks, chairs, and eager minds.

They just received a large order of bunk beds that still needed to be set up. The plan is to host tournaments for soccer, swimming, basketball, and more, so the visiting teams can stay here. To really give them a feel of traveling to an away facility and enjoying all the excitement that comes with that, Victor said proudly, with a twinkle in his eyes. I vowed to return soon and told him I couldn’t wait to see the finished product once it debuted, with Victor acting as the club’s Director, a more than deserved position for a more than qualified individual both in CV and attitude.

Finally, that day had arrived. I texted Victor a week before meeting with the chiropractors down in Puerto Vallarta and asked about the possibility of running a program.

“Heck to the yeah brotha!” he responded, in typical Victor fashion. “It’ll be perfect,” he added. “We just started our sessions with the ‘peewees’ so you’ll be working with a team of 5-9 year olds.”

“Amazing,” I texted back. “See you soon, Profe!” I concluded, running to my empty bags to fill them with a new equipment haul.

That session was scheduled for Wednesday night, bookended by the two programs out in Nayarit. The club was having a very busy day, as some new friends from the GRC Foundation were running a shoe drive for the kids in the community, many arriving in flip-flops or bare feet from a place known as el basurero or the dump.

After chatting with the GRC Foundation’s founder, Annie, I headed to Club Vallarta’s beautiful, state-of-the-art multipurpose court, where the children and parents were already waiting eagerly. Practice was scheduled for that evening, so I quickly familiarized myself with the peewee squad’s coach. 

“Call me Pollo,” he said

Coach Pollo was taking over for the club’s usual sporting coach, Coach Cristian, who was on a well-deserved four day vacation in Guadalajara. As a result, this was only Coach Pollo’s second day with this group so he was about as green as I was, though he did have plenty of moves and drills in his arsenal to draw from. We rounded up the group and I quickly selected an older boy to be the session’s captain, watching him pull the black armband over his left bicep with pride.

“Okay guys, We have a listening exercise now,” I started. 

“Oh yes! I know this one!” exclaimed my captain. 

Our captain worked with either Coach or myself recently. It was fulfilling to see that he remembered our exercise and could help me lead the other participants. 

After a few rounds of this, much like our partnership with Proyecto Cantera, I let Coach Pollo run a drill of his own before going into mano o cabeza.

“Ahhh it’s the reverse. I know this one too. I played it before!” said my captain yet again.

“Did you like it??” I asked. 

“Yes of course!!” He answered.

After a few rounds of this with two circles led by both the Coach and I, we broke into a quick water break. Coach Pollo took me aside and asked if I had any other drills because the players always like to end practice with a scrimmage. 

“Perfect, let’s scrimmage!” I said excitedly

We broke into a fifteen minute long scrimmage, with spirited competition as proud parents looked on from the bleachers. It ended 2-2 and we broke into a penalty shootout with myself and Coach Pollo playing goalkeeper for either side. The penalty shootout went several rounds before ultimately ending in a draw so everyone could leave happy. 

I gathered the kids in a circle to pass out soccer balls with our mano o cabeza winners and my captain getting first dibs on them.

I had a few leftovers and asked the coach a question, “¿Pollo, tienes hijos? Do you want a ball?”

To my surprise he responded kindly, saying, “No I don’t and it’s okay, thanks so much, Profe. I know that the need is greater here so please keep them for the kids instead,” which was a very good-hearted gesture.

As I said a final goodbye to the GRC Crew and made my way to Victor’s car to head home, the parents all stopped to thank me for the new soccer balls as their kids excitedly made the trek back to their houses, ball in hand, and a smile on their faces. 

It was now Friday afternoon and I was back at Club Vallarta, to partner up on an event yet again with the chiropractors. They had set themselves up in the classrooms, while I made my way to a space just outside the building, with a nice overhang to protect our participants from the brutal Mexican sun.

I gathered a few children who had just been sitting around waiting for their parents to receive treatment. We ran a couple drills as the group began to grow and more participants entered our playing grid. We broke into a little scrimmage and played until our legs no longer allowed us to. We got into mano o cabeza to determine some early prizewinners, with a wide variety in our group – young to old, but age hardly determining success or lack thereof.

After that, using the game as a breather of sorts, we got back into a scrimmage. At one point, one of my teammates shot the ball wildly and booped a girl in the face. I ran over to her as she sprang back up to her feet to check if she was okay, gently rubbing the top of her head. Later on, the same teammate was back to his ways and launched another strike, this time his friendly fire rocking me in the back of the dome.

That same girl from before sprinted to me, checking in on me and gently patting my head, the same way I had. “Are you okay, Profe?” she asked softly. “Now I am, gracias a ti chica.”

After, the kids wanted to get some sun so we ran out to the court to practice some shots from the penalty stripe and beyond. From there, we played a new game called metegol, which was like the game World Cup, making it easy enough to learn.

Once we had played plenty enough for one day, I circled the group up to distribute soccer balls and pulseras.

“Profe, can I have one more for mi hermana?” a boy asked, followed by a couple more participants asking the same. 

I knew this was my last day of programs for the week and had zero desire to carry anything home besides empty bags, so I happily obliged. As I wrapped the program up, I saw a gentleman looking on from afar. I recognized him from that same day back in July 2021. His name was Tom. I ran over to him and said hello warmly. 

“Ahh I remember you, Stephen, right? From the worlds, about the worlds, something like that?” he said. 

“Yes! Around the Worlds,” I said with a smile, just happy to see a familiar face after such a long year.

Tom had literally just landed in Mexico from California an hour prior, after spending three weeks back in the states. As I welcomed him back, he was generous enough to drive me back to my house only 10 minutes down the street. Our conversation, though brief, was full of warmth and levity. I congratulated him on the Club’s opening and told him how proud I was to see its progression and to play even the smallest role in the important work it was doing. We talked about the past year, and some new exciting plans for this one.

As I opened the passenger door outside my living space, Tom left me with a closing message: “Thank you for everything you do for the kids, especially for our kids and our community.” 

I thanked him for his kind words and left with a huge smile on my face, one that only grew wider when I received a goodbye text from Víctor ahead of my flight back home. It read, “Thank you for coming over and always putting a smile on these kids’ faces,” he said. 

A compliment of the highest order coming from someone who tends to have that effect on every single person he meets, whether man, woman, or child.“ Just doing my best impression of you hermano,” I answered.