Sarajevo, Bosnia

With programs in our 59th country carefully stowed away in the Around the Worlds bag, it was time to look ahead to the next milestone, which was successfully bringing our curriculum to kids in 60 different countries. My next stop was Sarajevo, Bosnia.

Thinking back to my trip to Burkina Faso, our 50th country, and the speedbumps and detours that led us there, I could only hope the 60th iteration would be kinder and simpler. Initially, I thought Paraguay would be the country to hit that milestone. I had to make a change and push this Eastern European run of sessions from March to May, so straightforward seemed the opposite of how things were unfortunately unfolding. Still though, if it all played out perfectly, it wouldn’t be the norm and I found solace in that because, by now, we are consistently un-phased by any curveballs life might throw our way.

Dreams are a funny thing, aren’t they? When’s the last time you were really looking forward to something? I mean like really, really anticipating it? Perhaps, you played the scenario out in your head a million times. Perhaps, you dreamt of how it might unfold – let’s call it that, in a perfect world, vacuum, type of outcome. You see, when milestones are on the horizon we never really know how they might turn out. Will they live up to those perfect scenarios we envisioned in our minds? Or will they falter in comparison, ourselves falling victim to the burden of expectation.

I had played the scenario out a million times. I knew, however, Bosnian was not one of the languages in my arsenal. I was not in Paraguay, speaking Spanish, stacking the deck for country number 60. I was in a land unfamiliar surrounded by people speaking a language I was unaccustomed to. In, however, steps the beauty of football. The beautiful game, itself a universal language. To me and to us, the gift that keeps on giving just as it has for nearly nine years and 60 different countries now.

I knew things were not going to go perfectly. I knew there’d be schedule changes, there’d be changes in our participant numbers, there’d be weather, I mean there’s always something, right? I chose instead to see the beauty in it. It was all a journey, an endless adventure. No matter what happened, there were still going to be kids eager to play the game of soccer. At the end of the day, that’s what mattered most. We’ve leaned on that since 2015, so on the verge of such a historic milestone, the question was… why stop now?

I landed in Sarajevo in the early afternoon hours of May 13. I hauled my luggage nearly two kilometers out of the airport to a local bus heading to Sarajevo’s “old town” and sweated through a 30 minute ride until I reached my stop. The things I do to save a couple bucks. Alas though, we were all in on the thrill of adventure, and a taxi simply could not provide that same sensation.

Did I regret it? Looking at the winding, steep uphill trail towards my AirBnB, I should’ve just paid for the taxi. Not only that, but Google maps failed to account for elevation in my walking route – neglecting to mention the seven flights of stairs leading up to my street. I sucked it up and did it in four trips. By the time I got to the front door, I was huffing and puffing. “Man, I thought I was in shape!” I said to myself, my legs already 10x heavier than when I had first landed.

Luckily though, I was greeted warmly by my host, who handed me the keys and allowed me to settle into my king sized room with a matching king sized bed. It was all I needed. The hill, though, would take some getting used to.

The neighborhood reminded me of back home in the Philippines in the city of Baguio where my mother grew up. Where my grandparents still currently live. I looked out my window to a beautiful view of climbing roads and stacked houses on a hill opposite ours, an Eastern European Amsterdam-esque canal flowing in the valley between them. The houses were lit up, tattooing the night sky with their bright hues. To my left, fireworks shot off, celebrating something – who knows what. An early celebration for country 60, perhaps? Must be a good omen, I thought to myself.

It was Monday night and our programs weren’t scheduled to start until Saturday and Sunday. I had plenty of time to relax and prepare, so I took the next free days just as that – free. The days following were filled with Bosnian stews, breads, and purées. The nights filled with gelato scooped fresh on the side streets creeping through the old town. Wednesday rolled around and I decided it was time to pay a visit to my contacts, the crew over at Respekt Football Club. Their reputation certainly preceded them and I was anxious to work together.

It was a long journey to get there, but I was hopeful the partnership would be worth it. From a college friend, to a high-up PR individual from the large NGO – Pomozi, now to the front door of Respekt Football Club’s office. It took a village, but man was I thankful for that village. I knocked on the door and was met with a smile and a handshake from my contact, Amina. With her was Emir, Respekt’s Executive Director – who I had not exchanged messages with, but I was stoked to meet, nevertheless.

I caught my breath, once again defeated by Sarajevo’s treacherous hills. Then, sitting down in their central office, I laid out all the Hummel jerseys I had brought with me. As always, I could only cross my fingers and pray that they would fit. If you can remember, I had about twenty leftover adult-sized jerseys with me, and so I proposed giving them to Respekt’s women’s team if possible. Emir and Amina were fully on board. “You can stop by their training if you’d like to,” Emir said. With Thursday and Friday still free I enthusiastically agreed. “When is it?” I asked.

“…Well, it’s tonight… at 10:00 PM,” he answered.

The women’s team consisted of some incredible young women – some students, some working full-time…hence why practices were reserved for 10 PM at night. It was only 6 PM and my energy was already shot… I knew there was no way I’d last til 10 PM and beyond. Alternatively, the women were training on Friday night ahead of a Saturday match, so I politely declined and promised to visit them then.

Plans changing as they always do, we ended up moving both the Saturday and Sunday sessions to Friday afternoon. It would be an hour long combined training at 5 o’clock, followed by about 30 minutes with the women’s team. Everyone would be leaving with new Hummel tops to wear during training sessions. It wasn’t exactly as planned, but I was rolling with the punches and got to work – inflating some footballs for the older teams to use and for the kids to play with in our session. My time in the office nearing its end, I enjoyed a lively chat with Emir. Over the years, Respekt had garnered some serious recognition from powerhouses in world football – including UEFA. We’re talking names I could only dream of sharing the same space with. We talked of victories both great and small, and shared ideas of what we wanted to accomplish in the future with both our organizations. Respekt operating as a full-volunteer operation as well, I saw a little bit of us in them too – albeit ourselves on a way smaller scale.

He seemed glad I had asked. “Of course,” he answered. “We currently have seven of them coaching the youth sides – four women and three men,” he said. I congratulated him, knowing just how important these things are for sustainability. Plus, there’s always something beautiful when students of the game become teachers of it. “That’s amazing, congratulations!” I told him. This was when I could tell Respekt was a well-oiled machine. They could easily rest on their laurels, but they didn’t. “It’s good, you know, former players becoming coaches, creating that cycle, but, it’s kind of the point – isn’t it?” he said. He sure was correct, and I nodded in approval.

After all, they had a goal in mind and were set on one day achieving it – to be the best (and best-run) team in all of Sarajevo. From the little I had already seen, they certainly were more than capable of doing so. Thursday consisted of rest and plenty of it. I set my sights on Friday’s double session and prepared everything I could – carefully noting the best route in Google maps, a mere tram-ride away on a direct line from the Cathedral station.

The venue was gorgeous, a sports park filled with official grass pitches and beautifully-laid turf ones. We would be using a turf field nestled in the corner of the parking lot. I found myself greeted once again by Emir, who directed me towards two of Respekt’s finest coaches – Coach Hannah and Coach Philip.

Coach Philip heads the women’s side, while Coach Hannah works with the kids whenever she isn’t playing with the women’s team. Coach Hannah and I were going to be working together, so we quickly got acquainted. She was friendly and enthusiastic, and it was clear she had a deep love for the game. She had been coaching the kids for a little over three and a half years, learning just as much from the experience as her subjects surely were.

She made an incredible first impression as we chatted about footy and the role it played in each of our lives. You know that saying, “Heavy is the head that wears the crown?” Coach Hannah was nursing a hamstring injury that happened only two weeks prior, but yet here she was… still coaching, training, and working on her craft.

I shared my experience with the same ailment… “you see Coach Hannah, this injury is really difficult because the only real recovery is time.”

“Exactly!” she answered. “And what I don’t have now is time. I am captain… I need to be out there with my team.” She wore the crown and she sure wore it well.

The boys disappeared into their dressing room as did our small contingent of girls participating in the day’s session. The boys excitedly pulled their new Hummel jerseys over their bodies, anticipation ever growing. To my delight, the jersey, much like with the women’s side at their Wednesday night training session, fit all the kids perfectly. Even the youngest and littlest ones in the group had a corresponding Hummel jersey that draped over their tiny torsos perfectly. It was a win before the program even began!

Waiting in the hall, all dressed to the nines, I smiled as I watched the women’s team (also dressed up for training in matching kits) run down a line of the youngest kids standing outside their dressing room to quickly work on headers. A look of accomplishment appearing on each of their faces with every butt of the head. It was a solid warmup for what was to come later on.

As with most programs, the boys were eager to show off their English though they were a bit bashful at first (“Don’t worry my friend,” I said, “your English is far better than my Bosnian!”) With everyone decked out in matching Hummel kits, we ran out to the pitch as Coach Hannah attended to some participants who weren’t yet ready to go.

“Okay guys!” I yelled out, “Let’s do a quick warmup!” I led them through two laps around the pitch followed by some dynamic stretching, to make sure our bodies were just as ready for the session as were our minds.

Eager to begin, I divided my audience into groups of partners, to jump straight into our listening drill. The kids had a blast with this one, I swear! I wanted them to use their eyes first, so the exercise was carried out in complete silence, that is, besides the giggles of the kids in front of me. Putting on my best silent film/mime impression, I went completely over the top with my movements in front of the crowd of participants. Jumping up and down, dropping quickly to the ground, turning and putting my hands on my butt. Fair play to the kids because they matched my energy all the same! It was awesome.

The kids’ laughter only grew more and more with each new body part. A few rounds of this one exhausted, I called over a participant – a bubbly and enthusiastic young fella named Ahmed, to help me run a few rounds. He did so with his voice as the kids shifted from visual concentration, to testing their listening skills. Ahmed’s sister, Delilah, plays for the women’s side – so as you can see, Respekt really does run in the family.

Eager to set up the next drill, I called for Coach Hannah to take over, but her involvement was as short-lived as any, by no fault of her own. Only one round down, she approached me just as I finished setting cones up in a circular pattern.

“Stephen, they’re saying they prefer you to be the one doing the drill,” she said.

I knew this hardly meant anything for it was really just a “new coach, new toy” type thing, but the thought still did make me smile.

I have to tip my hat to Coach Hannah because she was ever so eager to help out. She deferred the spotlight to me, although she didn’t have to – and I quickly jumped into my role as a guest trainer. “Usually, when I am a guest coach we usually bounce drills off each other like one for one for one for one,” I told her. “However you want to run things, it is totally fine with me,” she said. She was happy to let me be as involved as I wanted to. In terms of coaching duos, it was a dream one.

After a short rest between drills, I called on the kids to all grab their own ball and meet me in the center of our coned circle. The drill was simple: dribble in open space, careful not to leave the boundary. Then, with a blow of the whistle, look at me for direction to mimic a stop of the ball with whatever part of the body I so chose.

Dribbling carefully, the kids grew more and more eager with every new command I’d yell out – knee! Nose! Both knees! Right foot, left foot! Armpit! Butt!

“Okay guys let’s take a rest here,” I said, mustering a fake yawn while sitting on top of my ball.

“Back!” I yelled next.

“Perfect, Coach… let’s wait for a bit on this one so I can rest right here,” said our goalkeeper, Eldar, his neck laid peacefully atop the ball.

Ready to wrap things up, I called out to Ahmed – “Give me a command for the last one…” I asked.

“Hmm…” he said, before pointing to his foot. “Too easy!” I yelled out. “Okay – knee!” he shouted, as I blew my whistle for a final tweet.

Next, we moved over to one of Coach Hannah’s drills, a little tag number just to keep the kids’ bodies moving around. With just about 15 minutes left in the session, we grabbed some training bibs and moved over to a small-sided scrimmage. You could immediately tell who the goalkeepers were because they were ever so quick to mention that they were just that – goalkeepers, but we’ve always known goalies are a completely different breed.

After plenty of energy and skills had been displayed, our scrimmage featured a buzzer beater goal to draw things to a close. We were meant to close the practice at 5:50 so the kids could change out of their new jerseys, but I still wanted to show them one new trick: the neck stall.

My participants crushed this one and I could even see them practicing it afterwards once training had ended. Coach Hannah called me over as I was cleaning up equipment, one of our young girl participants attached to her hip. “She was wondering if she could learn it too,” said Hannah, the girl now hidden behind her, shy as ever. “Sure!” I said, as she did it to perfection barely 30 seconds later!

As I stepped off the turf field, parents smiled and exchanged greetings and handshakes. I smiled back because I was ever so grateful. There was a beautiful turf field within the gorgeous mountainous neighborhoods of Sarajevo City Center in the background, an awesome group of kids before me, and a stellar coach beside me. I could never ask for anything more for our 60th country.