With three classes done and dusted and 2024 programming off to a strong start, it was time for our last day of sessions here in India’s capital city. We went to Najafgarh to work with Maika Sweet Home, an orphanage caring mainly for girls growing up without their parents, and enduring other extreme circumstances in their lives.

For them, it truly was a sweet home, a place where they were fed, sheltered, protected, and cared for. It represented a place where they could chase their dreams alongside other fellow dreamers. Maika was the brainchild of Avinash Jain, a prominent businessman in Delhi looking to make a difference. And there he was doing just that, making a difference, not just for these girls but for so many other individuals by extension.

In short, I was excited to be working with Maika to close out India programming. Beyond that excitement, I was honored. I had been in touch with their office for nearly six weeks and I was so eager to match faces with names and to transition text conversations into face-to-face ones. The first of those faces was a young woman by the name of Aastha. Currently residing and working with Maika, she was a lawyer by trade and further, studying to be a judge.

We had exchanged several messages in the past month over email, where she had been ever-responsive and equally excited in her answers. Contacts like Aastha are a blessing in this field, and I was quick to remind her of that. Lord knows how many flaky and non-proactive prospective partners I’ve corresponded with in the past eight years, making her eagerness a welcomed gift deserving of flowers.

I sat down in an outdoor garden as the girls flowed out of a residential building and into the front yard. Lining our playing space for the day was a patchwork of pots and flowers, making for a dreamy playing grid despite a smaller space than normal. With girls looking on curiously, I parked my body at a nearby table along with Aastha and got to work, inflating the near 20 soccer balls I didn’t have space for back at home and in the Uber en route.

We were set to have 30 total participants with 15 in the first hour, and 15 in the next. Each player would be leaving with a brand new soccer ball among some other small prizes, hence the 30 soccer balls and the growing need to inflate them. Once all was said and done, our sessions would be looking more like a dozen of the small youngsters in the first class, then 17 or 18 of the older, teenage girls in the second.

Aastha lined up the 12 smallest boys and girls and ran us through a quick introduction, graciously translating my usual pre-program spiel into Hindi so the kids could understand. I asked them for their respect, attention, and energy – and, very much displaying the last of the three, they yelled out “yes!” Eager to start the first session off on the right foot, we broke quickly into our listening exercise, run by myself as well as Aastha.

“Muhu!” I yelled out.

The kids looked at each other, then at me, quizzically.

“Munh?” Aastha asked, making it clear I’d very much fumbled the Hindi word for mouth.

This remained true for stomach, eyes, shoulder, and a few other commands but nevertheless I persisted. Moving quickly along, we went straight from the listening drill to relay races as the kids cheered loudly throughout each variation. Lastly, we broke into two ball control grids with six players each, led by me and Aastha.

The grids were designed to practice push passes and headers, as these kids were far too young to work on anything more complex than that, like chest control, thigh control, and volleys. Their technique already looked way better than when we had started, so we pivoted over to “sir” or “haath” to grab some prize winners who would be leaving with Around the Worlds drawstring bags to house their new soccer balls.

They cheered loudly, laughing at their own misfortune whenever they missed a command, or applauding each other when they proceeded to the next round. With everything all but done, the kids were lined up once more in front of me, just like how the class had started. I thanked them for their attention, respect, and energy, before passing a new ball to each of them to keep, along with soccer-themed bracelets fashioned in India’s flag colors of white, green, and orange.

Waiting patiently in the wings, the older girls looked on with intrigue, and finally, their patience was rewarded. We cycled out the youngsters and Maika’s eldest group came storming into the front garden. There was hardly a need for introduction, but we did one anyway for the sake of formality. The girls did a fantastic job in our listening exercise, executed with one huge line of soccer balls and partners stood on either side of it, facing each other.

Eager to mix things up from the first session, I asked the girls to all grab their own soccer ball and to place it at their feet. We would be dribbling within our small, rectangular garden space. Further, the small space littered with both 17 humans and 17 soccer balls would force us to practice spatial awareness, dribbling with our eyes forward, and communication – effective communication, at that.

This was not to be just a ball control drill though… “Girls! When I blow my whistle you are going to stop the ball using whatever body part I say!”

“Got it?” I asked, looking for confirmation.

“Yes!” they answered.

I kept things simple for the first couple tweets of my whistle – hand, foot, knee were my commands. Next, I decided to up the ante.

“Mouth!”

“Nose!”

“Bhaiya (brother)! Come on!!” the girls yelled out agonizingly.

I grinned, waiting until every ball had a nose sitting atop it until blowing my whistle to get things moving again. The truth is, it had rained for the majority of the morning ahead of our 2 PM start time, but the kids were certainly not letting the mud get in our way. In fact, it seemed like they had almost embraced it, dropping down to the muddy ground without hesitation to stop it with their mouth or nose or whatever I called out.

After this, we broke into a large line for ball control, then an even larger circle for “sir” or “haath”, with the first round carried out by me, then the second by the first round’s victor – Rasmin. Time running low, I looked over at Aastha to provide a quick update on the session.

“We’re almost done here, Aastha, I’m just going to show them a trick, then teach it to them. Afterwards we’ll give out the footballs and the bracelets.”

She nodded her head in approval, perhaps just as excited to see what this trick was. The girls standing in front of me in a semicircle, I caught the ball on the back of my neck, flicked it into the air, caught it again, dropped down to the ground for some push-ups, and popped right back to my feet. Pausing ever-so-briefly for applause like the narcissist I am. I then called for four volunteers to join me in front of the crowd to learn the neck stall.

When I tell you, this group of four knocked it out of the park. The second group, just the same! And the third? The third was even able to spin around slowly, walk forwards and backwards, and even perform one push-up, all while balancing the ball on their necks just like I had.

I looked on like the proud coach I was, marveling at their ability and sharing just as much in their accomplishment. Having started a bit late around 2:30 with the youngsters, and the hour now being 4:25, I decided it was time to wrap things up. I presented our winners with their prizes – the two blue One World Play Project balls I had brought with me, noticeably different from the other rainbow ones I had for the remaining 15 girls.

The girls were extremely thankful and respectful, offering words of gratitude to me in English as they claimed their program giveaways. They showed off their bracelets with pride, as I offered one to Aastha as well as another young girl who had helped coordinate the session for us. I thanked Aastha and the girls one last time, saying how I hoped they had had just as much fun as I had and that I hoped they had learned something of value in the sessions.

And just like that, our first run of 2024 programs had both come and gone. With it though, just like so many that preceded it, came a plethora of memories, smiles, names, stories, and more. Stories added into our ever-growing storybook of moments. Names scribbled into our 8000+ deep list of beneficiaries. Smiles forever etched both on the heart and mind. And memories… memories of the beauty of sport that courses through our veins and those of all our young athletes scattered throughout the world.