One successful session, albeit with a familiar beneficiary, out of the way, it was time to keep plowing ahead with programming. Next on the list, a new partner, but a high-impact one with the same makeup as Fundacion Levántate y Anda. This after/before school program however, was based in Bogotá’s “Suba” district. I’ll be honest, I’d never been to Suba before so I had no idea what to expect. All I knew is that, compared to the prior day’s programming in nearby Garcés Navas, this area was a bit of a hike away – located north of our home base in Normandia.

Fortunately, programming wouldn’t be starting too early – but I still blocked off extra time for Bogotá’s traffic. This Thursday dual-session would be split down the middle with a lunch for the kids, catching them either coming back from school or on their way to it. The first session was set for 10 in the morning, with the second penned in for the early afternoon, just after lunch.

“Por lo menos, give yourself an hour to get there,” suggested Stik, the day before.

“Por el mínimo, una hora,” my host, Francisco, told me.

Heeding their warnings, I called a cab for mom and I around 8 a.m., taking into account traffic, GPS hiccups, and a small window of arriving early.

I put the address into Google, my contact at the foundation – Cece, had given it to me a couple days prior. 8:30 AM arrival, 30 minutes en route it said. “Welp, to be early is to be on time,” I said to myself, before turning to mom and telling her to pack some extra arts supplies just in case we could use the extra time wisely. She hadn’t been set to run another session on Thursday, but she was always ready and eager to get the kids’ best creativity out of them at the snap of a finger.

Well, I’m sure glad she was, because we ended up running an hour long crafting session before heading just across the street to the neighboring park for our 10 AM session. This one was good because kids were still kind of filtering into the foundation, so the arts session gave them more time to get settled before eventually diving headfirst into some footy. As our athletes gradually entered the fold, they all pleaded their case for why they wanted to leave the day’s session with a new soccer ball.

“Pues, I’ve gone the past five years of my life without a ball, and I’m only 10 years old,” said one boy.

“All the soccer balls in my house are punctured and can’t be played with,” said another.

“I haven’t had my own ball for the past two years,” said one boy, quickly learning from those that spoke prior and changing his answer, “Wait nevermind I meant five years.”

I caught him in a web of lies and decided to poke a little fun at him, “Mira, profe, tengo 15 años sin pelota pero tengo 10 años en edad,” I said, exposing the fallacy in his prior statement, as we both shared a laugh once it finally sunk in.

Opening arguments all noted, it was time to hit the field. It was time for some of these young athletes to leave with their very own soccer balls, as promised. We opened things up with a quick listening drill, followed by relay races just like the day before. In both, I was aided by my captain for the day – Martin. From there, a round of mano o cabeza in the comforting shade of some nearby trees. That would grab us a couple winners as would our next header game with players cycling through as both attackers and goalkeepers. “Por este ejercicio todos nosotros somos porteros, y todos nosotros somos delanteros – entiendes?” I asked the crowd, them all in agreement.

“I was so lucky,” said a goalscorer and prizewinner in the latter game of the two. “My header was like a rainbow. It went so high in the air, but it still managed to find the back of the net,” he said, with a big smile.

Once we had compiled a list of about six soccer ball winners, a staff member let me know we still had about 20 minutes remaining.

“Okay, let’s scrimmage!” I yelled out.

I won’t lie, this one was tense. It was filled with slide tackles, feints, injuries, and missed calls. I’d blame el arbitro pero, well, I was the arbitro. Tensions were high and even once things wrapped up with a 1-1 scoreline and prizes were revealed, that tension still hadn’t quite subsided. It would take a lunch break and a second arts class to do that. Back at the foundation, the kids had entered into a quick round of bargaining. Despite not winning any games and therefore forfeiting eligibility for any soccer balls as prizes, the negotiations continued.

I was shocked by one boy’s strategy.. stuffing a soccer ball set aside for the second session in his bag while I looked the other way.

“Profe! He’s taking one!” yelled out another boy.

I had clocked it right from the start. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to let him leave without giving it back,” letting the boy know that I knew. I turned to one of the other boys who was hoping to keep order so that prizes were distributed fairly. “Johan, tienes dudas? Tienes miedo?” Himself adamant on maintaining the prizewinning feeling as sacred as it was. “Si profe,” he said, softly.

“Johan de dudas, dímelo amigo,” I responded, trying to find the root of his hesitation.

“Well, profe, if you give one soccer ball to a kid who didn’t win just remember you have to give one to everyone,” he said, which is a true statement but a strange one considering this same kid asked me barely 30 mins ago with the biggest puppy eyes to give a ball just to him without anyone else knowing.

Lunch wrapped up and with a new set of kids now chilling in the foundation, it was time for our second session of the day. The venue was the same, our neighboring park, though it was now a bit more crowded than in the morning. Thus, we weren’t able to utilize the nice turf field and I instead set up shop on one of the many multipurpose (basketball, cycling, dance, etc.) cement courts. Well-prepared, more so than the AM, I sat off to the side and waited for the second set of kids to finish up their lunch and meet me outside right afterwards. This group was a bit more subdued and I led things off with an important conversation about how the session would unfold and more importantly, how prizes would be distributed.

One of the first boys to arrive caught a quick glimpse of my years-old soccer flats. “Profe? Adidas?” “Siiip,” I answered. “I like them, but why are they so big?” he continued.

“Because he’s a giant!” answered one of the other boys with a big laugh.

Our last kids back courtside after a hearty lunch, it was time to jump straight into it. We started with a quick listening drill, this time with about ten footballs set up in a straight line, with partners on each side of it. I surveyed the group for a captain and chose an hombrecito in a yellow Colombia jersey who, as my mom said, bore a striking resemblance to Keith Urban. Perhaps, Keith Urbano, for the sake of the story. Clearly, by his jersey, he was big into the game. Luckily for me, he was just as versed in leadership and made for a stellar compatriot in running the afternoon’s curriculum.

I had done my homework during our lunch break, thinking of introducing our new exercise from a domestic program at the Boys and Girls Club earlier in the summer. Research paying off, I had learned that Tic Tac Toe in Colombia was rebranded to the name “Tricky”. Easy enough, I said to myself.

“Okay guys! I need two equal teams, a ball in each person’s hands at the front of both lines!” I yelled out, setting up a makeshift tic tac toe grid in the grass just beside the cement court. This was done purposely, so that the footballs wouldn’t roll away from us.

As is the case with these after and before school programs, our sessions often consist of a wide variety of ages. For that reason, we had kids as young as 6 and as old as around 14 or 15. As you can imagine, the older boys did not really seem to want to participate, especially against their (much) younger counterparts. I pulled them off to the side and said, “Hey guys you know how it is when we have a mixed group like this, with the little kids…” hoping they might understand and play along.

Surprisingly enough, just moments later they were laughing and smiling while playing our makeshift version of tricky, first running with footballs in hand to the grid and then dribbling all the way to it in some later variations. This one was a hit and I was thrilled as I planned to continue running it in our next double session on Friday.

The kids had been eyeing the nets the entire program, so I brought both teams behind two cones lined up with each post. From there, they would pass the ball to me for a layoff and then a strike towards goal. I cycled between laying the balls off and playing keeper, rotating with the two older boys from before just to keep things fresh. Finally, it was time for the marquee event – mano o cabeza, with our Puma soccer balls at stake.

I explained the rules and ran a couple practice vueltas just to make sure we were all on the same page. Before kicking things off, I turned to my right, noticing the youngest boy in the group sitting off to the side “He doesn’t want to play?” I asked a staff member. She told me his head was hurting because of the sun.

“Amigo, ahorita tenemos un juego y puedes ganar una pelota,”I said, barely finishing my sentence before he sprang right up to his feet. I turned to the same profe and said “Wow! Es un milagro!”

From there, some pretty cool things happened between head it, catch it and our later game of penalty kicks to win prizes. For starters, one boy really really visibly wanted to win. Yet, despite advancing deep into every game, he couldn’t quite see things through. I watched as a girl in front of him blasted in a last minute pen, later stepping forward to grab her ball as a prize. The prize in her hands for hardly two seconds, I looked on as she immediately turned around to hand the ball to that same boy. “Wait, why did she give you the ball?” I asked. “It’s mi hermana,” he answered. “She gave it to me because it was my birthday.” “En serio? Cuando?” I asked. “Ayer!” he answered. “Dale feliz cumpleaños hermano!” I said adding that the ball was a birthday present for extra measure.

The oldest girl in the bunch, Valentina, a vocal girl with bright blue eyes, had also emerged victorious in mano o cabeza. Her strategy, though, was questionable at best… but I did have to commend her. Earlier in the round, she had told me “Profe I can’t head the ball because it hurts my head so just say cabeza whenever you get to me.” I had honored her request for the sake of safety only to turn around later as an older boy, Kristian, was running a round to see her heading the ball with ease! “Valentina! Me dijiste que no puedes usar su cabeza!” I yelled out, as she smirked back at me.

Alas, she had her eyes set on a red USA ball, and I guarded it behind my back so I could give it to her once her spot on the list of victors was called out. Penalties raging on, I took note of a little boy in a Liverpool kit sitting off to the side with me by the goal. “Profe please I really want the black Puma ball, I love that one,” he said. “Mira te explico – we have nine footballs, y five are black, entonces estás en el primer grupo de ganadores – las primeras tres. So of course you’ll get a black one, te lo prometo, te lo juro!” I said, reassuring him, watching as the corners of his mouth curled up into a smile in response.

This group was a bit more chill, maybe since it was later in the day, and with our schedule completely free for the afternoon some of the profes invited ma to do another arts session while other kids visited the psychologist. Mom was psyched, and we headed up to the terrace to get to work. As each kid wrote in a big heart what they wanted to be in the future, I heard a girl in the audience say “I want to be a soccer player… pues I’m not very good but I still want to do it.” It was Valentina, one of our prize winners from earlier. Safe to say, she was well on her way as a young athlete.

“I want to be a figure skater,” said another.

“A veterinarian,” said another girl as she carefully colored in an escudo with a paw print on the front of her origami camiseta.

“Look, I’m a fast learner!” Valentina called out, proudly showing off her bracelet and carefully counting – “okay the other half had 14 colors, I’m at 6 now so I’m almost halfway done,” she said.

Minutes later, she tapped me on the shoulder, “Can I give mine to another kid around the world?” she asked, holding a red white and blue bracelet in her hand tucked into her perfectly colored jersey.

“Oh wait profe hay tres si puedes darlas a cada una, the bracelet to one kid, the shirt to another, and the soccer ball card to the last,” she added.

As always, I was blown away by not just the creativity, but the hearts of each of our participants – displaying grace so far beyond their years both on and off the field, in moments both big and small.