Jetlag still beating me senselessly, I slept for about six hours before waking up Thursday morning. Plus, post-program highs are a very real thing and the way these sessions were going lately, the highs were reaching incredible heights.

I grabbed a quick lunch and got to work pumping up about nine footballs to bring to our girls’ team training session later in the day. Today’s venue was the same as yesterday’s, the dependable Beshale High School. I rolled up through the gates 15 minutes early, as the girls gradually made their way onto the pitch, stopping only to greet Mikky and me. I exchanged words with the team’s coach, who happily agreed to step aside in order to let me run the session as a guest trainer.

“Okay girls, bring it in!” I yelled out, getting the session started with a quick warm up.

They all followed me from side to side, hitting sprints, buttkicks, high knees, open/close the gate, and more. Then, I departed to a corner of the field to set up our first drill while a particularly helpful girl donning a black Arsenal “Saka” kit led her teammates through a stretching circle. From there, I sent the team over to our two passing lines to run things just like I had with the U17 boys the day prior. Once their passing technique was deemed to be on point, I told every girl to grab their own football in order to open up our rectangular grid dribbling drill.

“Armpit!” I yelled out, as the girls all shared a laugh while dropping to the floor to stop the ball using their own.

“Back!” I yelled out next, as they dropped back down and nestled the ball just underneath their necks.

I was ready to blow my whistle to get them back up, before one of the older girls stopped me.

“No Coach, a little while longer, let’s rest!” she said, with a sly smile.

The girls seemed fully acclimated with the space, maneuvering the ball well while keeping their eyes up. I decided it was as good a time as any to grab three prize winners for our footballs, to be gifted at the end of the session. The game of choice was Queen of the Hill.

They started off with a bang, playing fierce defense and even more aggressive offense, to try to be the last one standing in the grid. Finally, our list of winners was fully populated and I told the girls to grab some water before resuming training with our 1v1 at goal drill. They loved this one and their skills were fully on display.

Beautiful feints, tricks, and finishes: the drill had it all. Of course, the 1v1 drill was intended to translate easily over to in-game situations, and it surely did as we broke into a half-field scrimmage. Deployed to the center as a ref, I considered myself more of a spectator, and even more so, a fan, as I admired the girls’ incredible footballing talent. One girl had an absolute wand of a right foot. Another, deceptively skilled despite her positioning at left back, started the scoring off with a banger of a full volley into the top left corner. In the middle of the pitch, two really standout players: one in long sleeves with an Adidas top over it and another with teal boots and an all navy getup. These girls were taking the ball straight out of the air as if it was made of metal and they had magnets in their feet. It was a sight to see!

I almost lost the plot for a bit and forgot I was supposed to be reffing the game, caught admiring some of the girls on the opposing side gliding past defenders effortlessly. Finally, I snapped back into it, interrupted by the yells of a player.

“Coach, it’s not fair!” she exclaimed. “They have an advantage, they have an extra player,” she added.

“But… aren’t you guys winning 3-0?” I asked.

“Yes, Coach,” she said, with a nod.

“Well then, let them play up a player or two. Let’s see if they can catch up!” I said.

As the sun began to set, both on the field and our Thursday afternoon session, I drew the girls in to thank them for their time. All donning their new Hummel shorts, they hit a quick round of applause while our prizewinners stepped forward to claim their new footballs. I felt a tap on my shoulder.

“They are asking if you can train them again on Sunday,” Mikky said with a smile.

Another girl chimed in.

“Coach?” she started. “Thank you for the gifts and especially, for your time.”

“Thank you for the training,” said another.

I echoed my thanks back to the girls for being so energetic and coachable, before departing to the sideline with Mikky.

Reaching the bleachers, the coach from the U17s came up to me, rather hesitantly. “Coach?” he asked, unusually timid on his side, “My son, you see him over there?” I nodded my head. “He has Down syndrome, and he really took a liking to the yellow footballs. Would you be able to give him one?” he asked. “Sure thing!” I said, giving him the easiest yes of my life. “What’s his name?” “Abraham,” answered Coach. “Hey Abraham, this is for you…” I said, reaching down and shaking the little guy’s hand before leaning my right shoulder into his, in typical Ethiopian greeting fashion. The young man smiled from ear to ear, bouncing the ball in front of him as his father looked on with pride – sharing the same joy, together.

I was cheesing too, but the day was hardly finished. We hopped back in the whip and made our way to the boys’ home, where I found myself sinking into a comfy living room couch surrounded by HMH’s finest young men. They were a curious bunch and I was happy to entertain their questions… for good company and good conversation are a rarity these days.

When I tell you, these boys began to ask me the deepest and most profound questions for the next hour of my time…

Obviously though, things started off tame.

“Coach, what is your name?” Remember, I hadn’t worked with all of these boys yet – only the U17s.

“Where are you from?”

“How long are you here for?”

“Just one week?”

“What’s the longest you’ve spent in a country?”

Conversation flowed, filled with warmth and levity. I told the boys about Around the Worlds, we discussed our favorite players and favorite clubs, and I shared some stories about my favorite countries, both in the lens of charity and outside of it. I stopped the boys in the middle of our ‘favorite clubs’ topic of discussion.

“I see a lot of you guys wearing your new jerseys too! Y’all look great. Who’s wearing one of the new ones?” I asked.

“I am!” an older boy said, hand raised, wearing a tidy little Italy number with “Barella” on the back.

“Me too!” said another, donning a clean Arsenal kit.

“I have one on!” said a boy to my left sitting in the back row.

“Really?” I asked.

“Yes, look!” he said, removing his sweatshirt to reveal a Germany kit with Euro patches and everything!

The boys were swagged out. Man, they looked great. I couldn’t help but smile at how happy the jerseys had made them. The questions continued. I appreciated how curious the kids were, especially when it came to Around the Worlds.

“Coach Stephen, through the foundation, what do you teach the kids?” a boy asked.

“Creative thinking, teamwork, work ethic, and problem solving, among other things,” I answered.

“Of course though, boys, the best coaches are able to teach their players things one, without necessarily saying it and two, without their players knowing they’re even learning them,” I said, expanding on the topic.

“Basically, guys, coaches like this let the kids learn between the lines.”

I watched ahead as they nodded along in agreement. Next up was another foundation related inquiry.

“Coach, we know that Around the Worlds right now is focused on teaching football, but have you ever thought about branching out into other sports or different things?” one of the fellas asked.

“Honestly guys, I heard a saying a long while back that really stuck with me. It goes like, ‘you can either do one thing really well, or do a bunch of small things only kind of well.’ And well, as you guys can see, we stuck with the former, not the latter.”

These still do seem tame though, but I promise you the hard-hitting questions were on their way. Mikky still wanted to keep the mood light though, hitting the boys with a fun little game.

“Tell you what guys, if anyone can guess where Stephen’s mom is from, I will give you a brand new football,” he said.

“You okay with that coach?”

“Absolutely!” I said.

“Russia?”

“Morocco?”

“Algeria?”

“Greek?”

“Italy?”

“Africa?”

“Ethiopia?”

“Japan?”

These kids certainly knew their geography, although I shook my head at every guess.

“Hint guys… Japan was close,” I shared, trying to nudge them in the right direction.

“South Korea?”

“Thailand?”

“Vietnam?”

“Taiwan?”

“Hong Kong.”

“Second hint guys, it’s an island!” I yelled out.

“Canada?” asked a younger boy.

“Oops, you’re getting colder guys,” I shared.

“Argentina?”

“Pues no, pero yo hablo español,” I replied.

“Syria?”

“Boys! I’m not Arab,” I said with a laugh, “…but as-salamu alaykum.” The boys started laughing back.

As you can imagine, no one properly guessed the Philippines, but the kids were familiar with my mother’s home country, as evidenced by a follow-up question.

“I’ve read stories about the Philippines being racist, towards black people. Is it true?” an older boy asked.

“Yes, sadly it is,” I said. As much as I love my country, I didn’t want to lie to these boys.

The next question was a bit funnier, and a universal experience for anyone who’s had the chance to visit the city.

“Coach, I’ve seen on the news that there are a lot of rats in New York City, is it true?” asked another boy.

“Yes it’s true,” I answered, flashing a look at a HMH volunteer named Mola, born in Ethiopia but adopted into a family in New York, as I was hoping for a lifeline.

“It’s funny, no?” he answered. “How whenever BBC, Al Jazeera come here, they film the worst parts of Africa instead of the nice ones. But with NYC all we see is the nice stuff, not the bad things.”

“It’s true, boys,” I added. “And it smells! Like urine,” I said, with a chuckle.

“Yeah… it’s a stinky city,” reiterated Mola.

I laughed and my cheeks were sore, but soon my brain would be forced to spring into action.

“Coach?” whispered a boy sat to my left.

“What was the happiest day of your life? The saddest?” he asked.

I couldn’t believe these questions man!

“Well, boys, I can’t (and prefer not to) think of the saddest day ever, so how about I hit you with the saddest day in recent memory, is that okay?”

They nodded their heads.

“Well, about half a year ago, my grandmother passed away in the Philippines. And that one wrecked me guys. Because she was the biggest fan of the charity. She always prayed for us. She always asked what country I was in, what country I was going to next.” It was an easy answer to come across, but a hard one to share.

All but past it, I was ready to tackle the other half of the question.

“The happiest?” I started. “The day I started Around the Worlds,” I said, without a doubt in my mind.

“Boys, life is going to present us with two things… two paths. Something that puts money in our pockets. And something that puts fire in our hearts. And, you know, they say, you’ve figured the mystery of life out when you find something that exists at the intersection of those two.”

At that moment, I turned to Mikky – the man the boys (and girls) affectionately referred to as “father”, placing my hand on his shoulder, “I’d like to think that’s where you are Mikky.” He flashed me a smile.

“But guys, Around the Worlds is my lifeblood. It’s the thing that lit my heart on fire and continues to do so every single day I’m lucky to carry out this work.”

Mikky then flipped the script, asking if there were any questions I’d like to ask the boys. “Now’s the time,” he said.

I didn’t want to jump straight into it, instead addressing the boys with a quick statement of my own.

“I promise you guys, you might think that you’ve gotten to know me from these questions you’ve asked today, but in just the same way, I like to think I’ve gotten to know you all just as much simply by the questions you’ve shared.”

But alas! It was my turn now.

“Okay guys, this one I really want to know,” I said.

“What does being a part of Hold My Hand mean to you, personally?” I asked.

A younger boy in the front raised his hand.

“It gave me hope,” he answered.

“Hold My Hand gave me a future,” another added.

Finally, a tall boy around 21 years old, presumably the oldest in the bunch, raised his hand from the backmost couch. His name was Amaan.

“Where can I even begin…” he said. “It gave me a family. Others might call this place an orphanage, but I consider it my family. It gave me a chance to find my purpose. Beyond that, it gave me the chance to achieve my purpose. Now, I want to become an electrician, or even a model. But thanks to the foundation, my school fees are covered and I can pursue my passion, no matter what that passion is. This place gave me hope for my future. I see kids as young as four years old selling tissues on the street and I know that without Hold My Hand, that could’ve easily been me.”

“That’s a great answer, young man, thank you for sharing,” I said, despite that ‘young man’, Amaan, towering over me by at least a couple inches.

Excited upon seeing my DSLR camera earlier during our first two sessions, Mikky hoped we might be able to use it to snap some headshots of the boys to be placed on their website.

Always happy to practice my photography skills, I gladly obliged, lining the boys up as my trusty “production assistants” helped set the scene.

And trust me, we had a real setup going on. Two ring lights, one shining on either side of the boys. Chairs. A solid blue backdrop. And an expert photographer. Well…. the expert part was up for interpretation. In fairness, though, sometimes all it takes is a good subject and to tell you the truth, these subjects were the best.

What played out for the next hour or so was quite literally one of the most enjoyable photoshoot sessions I’ve ever been a part of – on either side of the camera.

The boys lined up outside the room, spiraling down the steps, patiently waiting for their turn to have their portraits taken. Behind me stood a couple who had already done theirs, using the time for nothing but tomfoolery, their vow in that moment simply to “break” their brothers and cause them to burst out laughing before a shot was taken. I won’t even lie, it was hilarious.

Did it make my job a little bit more difficult? Sure. But were the photos that followed full of complete joy and bliss? Yes, resoundingly yes.

Once the last photo was shot, I turned to Mola to share my happiness about the photoshoot. “That was a blast,” I said, “who would’ve thought taking a million headshots of these three dozen boys could’ve been so much fun.”

“I felt like a photoshoot director!” he said.

It really was a joy, one that could not just be seen through a screen, but felt in the moment itself. Interestingly enough, some of the kids had been more prepared for the photoshoot than others. Remember that tall boy from before? Amaan? As I descended down HMH’s winding stairs, I got to chopping it up with him. After all, he was no stranger to the camera, with his own dreams as an aspiring model.

“Bro, do you play on the divisional team?” I asked.

“No…” he said, expressing a lack of passion towards the game.

“Well… it’s kind of like you said, Coach, right? Like, you should try a bunch of things until you find something you’re good at? I started playing football, but I wasn’t good at it. So I switched to basketball, but I didn’t like that much either. But now, I’ve really gotten into fitness and weightlifting. And I think it’ll really help with my modeling career. I’m really enjoying it too!” he said.

I smiled, knowing that even just a little bit of my wisdom shared earlier had already been received well by the boys.