Three successful sessions in the bag, it was time to keep the momentum going right into the weekend. I had just passed off a bag full of donations to a local team, FC Jeenyo, full of young adults from Bole, but was eager to get back to running training myself. Next up? Hold My Hand’s U13 Boys’ Team.

We ran a Sunday afternoon session at a different location from our normal Beshale High School, the venue from our first three football classes. Our new venue, Goro Government School, was actually preferred by both players and coaches alike, perhaps because of the larger goal frames, the shaded bleachers, or a variety of other things.

I myself, however, wasn’t a huge fan, noticing my feet slipping and sliding with every change of direction on the all-dirt pitch. Nevertheless, it was time for training and I could not be more excited to start things up. Why the eagerness? Well, for starters, I had an absolute whopper of a morning. I had originally planned for a chill Sunday morning, grabbing a taxi to church and back before ordering a hearty lunch ahead of our afternoon session.

Well, long story short, upon leaving church, I had been approached by two men on the street where I fell victim to something I’d like to call a cross between a mugging and a pickpocketing. Let’s say it was either an aggressive pickpocketing… or a tame mugging. I’ll spare the details, but it was not a fun experience. I recollected myself, tried my best to shake it off, and looked ahead towards football training in the afternoon. My hope was that a little bit of footy would turn my day around for the better.

Goro School was an excellent venue and the kids were stoked to get going. Plus, I knew the day would be ending on an incredible high with each participant leaving with a brand new football. My coaching partner on the day was Eliab, a young & passionate coach who I had met on day one of programming the Wednesday prior.

I couldn’t wait to share the field with him and we excitedly planned out the day’s agenda. First, the kids ran through a quick warm-up. Then, we broke into our circular ball control drill, working on push-passes, volleys, half-volleys, and headers.

When that was all said and done, Eliab took half of our near-30 deep group to one half of the field, while I took mine to the opposite side to work on 1v1s towards the goal. Once plenty of goals had been deposited into the back of the net, it was time to circle the kids up to work on just a little bit of freestyle, jumping straight into neck stalls.

Their talent was on full display as I watched on with awe as some of the boys managed to spin around, walk from side to side, and even do push-ups with the soccer ball still lodged atop their necks.

Our time all but over, I directed the kids over to the bleachers so I could pass out our giveaways – brand new soccer balls featuring FC Nantes’ branding (a French team playing in the first division). Coach Eliab helped me address the group.

“So, to say thank you for your attention today…” I started.

The kids held their breath in anticipation.

“We have a brand new football for each of you!” I finished.

They smiled from ear-to-ear, stoked to step forward to receive their new gifts. One boy approached me, mumbling something at first before speaking a bit more clearly so I could understand.

“Coach, I will care for this like it is my baby,” he said, holding the ball in his arms, just as one would a newborn infant.

“Oh… I’m so sorry boys, I’ll be flying back to America! I gotta leave tomorrow!” I said, though I was touched by their excitement for another session.

“Coach, where will you go next? Which country?” a younger lad asked.

“Guinea in two months, boys,” I said with a smile.

If you can remember, Mikky had mentioned that of all Hold My Hand’s football teams, this one had the greatest need. Keeping that in mind, I wanted to help out however I could, though I knew my resources were running thin.

Coach Eliab had asked if I could give him my Adidas cones, which sadly I still needed for a training session the next day. Still, though, I promised to leave them behind for him just as a small means of helping with his coaching journey after my departure. He was a good coach and an even better person, so I was more than happy to pass along a helping hand.

Now, I had been wearing a brand new Colombia jersey ever since the start of the session. Like, I had taken the tags off of it just minutes before stepping foot onto Goro School’s campus. Whether he had been eyeing it or not during training, I decided to at least throw a question in Coach Eliab’s direction.

“Coach, do you want this?” I said, pointing down towards the canary yellow jersey calling my torso home.

“I literally just took the tags off of it earlier today,” I reassured him.

“Really, Coach, are you sure?” he said, reservedly.

“Of course!” I said, “just let me change into something else,” I said, grabbing a plain tee out of my backpack.

“It looks like it’ll fit,” I said, optimistic that it was his size. “Do you like Colombia, Coach?” I asked, just making sure the jersey fit not only his body, but his allegiance, too.

“Of course bro! James Rodriguez, Juan Cuadrado!” he yelled out. Check aaaaand, check!

Coach walked off the pitch with an added little spring in his step and a noticeably wider smile on his face. The Colombia jersey, just like the footballs earlier, was nestled right on the soft spot of his neck. Together, surrounded by a bunch of the boys, we made our way to the street to head back towards the boys’ shelter via public transportation – my first time using the Ethiopian van “taxis”.

En route, ready to wave one down from the side of the street, Eliab continued to get me acquainted with his squad.

“This is my son right here, don’t we both look alike?” he asked me, pointing to a handsome young fella who very clearly was not blood-related. However, both strapping young lads, I wouldn’t have doubted if they really were related!

“And this guy over here, this one flashing a big toothy smile. We call this guy the old man,” said Coach Eliab. “Why’s that?” I asked. “Because he is old!” Eliab answered, with a big belly-laugh, as the boy so obviously was barely pushing 7 years old.

Coach Eliab tapped my shoulder from the seat right behind me, “Coach Stephen, one of the boys is asking if you thought they were good (talent-wise).”

“Of course, Coach!” I answered. “There’s lots of talent there. The boys have a solid foundation,” I said, knowing just how large a role he played in that.

Coach Eliab continued, “I actually wanted to ask if you have any advice for me about how to coach my 13 & 15 sides, what do you think?” he said, curiosity mixed with optimism filling his face.

My answer was very much an ode to one of our contacts back in Barbados, Coach Rodney.

“Just focus on having fun, Coach. Let the boys enjoy their football. Don’t be too hard on them about technique and skill, especially at this age, just let them have fun. There will be a time… when they are 15, 17… to really focus on the higher-level stuff, but right now just let them enjoy themselves,” I said.

Eliab nodded in response.

“Do you have any coaching manuals or brochures?” he said.

“I should really make one!” I said, “but let’s stay in touch and I’ll definitely keep you posted,” I finished, excited to have made yet another coaching connection.

A 15 minute ride and a 15 minute walk later, we reached the girls’ home, where I would be taking another set of headshots for HMH’s website.

The boys had peeled off just before we reached the girls’ home, to freshen up before enjoying dinner and a movie with their brothers. I greeted the girls, who had been relaxing on the couch, as is customary on chill Sundays.

“Thank you for the bracelets, Coach!” they said, showing off the ones I had gifted them the Thursday prior.

“Did you all get them?” I asked, pulling out some extra ones for the girls present not on the U16 team. We all helped tie them around each other’s wrist, until not a single person was left out.

One of the boys had joined us at the girls’ home for bread and tea. “Coach?” he asked me, continuing on in perfect English, “how come you didn’t train my team?”

He featured for the U15 side. Hearing the question, it dawned on me, I really had not planned to work with them.

“Let me see what I can do, buddy,” I answered, knowing I had the ‘will’ and just hoping the ‘way’ would somehow match.

Mikky, sipping a ginger tea while sitting beside me, shared his thoughts on the situation.

“For some reason, the U15 boys seem to always get skipped over,” he said. “Whenever volunteers visit, this seems to be the case.”

I recounted my past week in Addis. I had worked with the 13s, the 17s, and the U16 girls, but I had missed out on the U15 boys.

Without knowing it, I had fallen into the exact same pattern that had victimized so many before me.

Still though, I was confident in the possibility of correction.

“Tell you what guys, I’m gonna try to come back to Goro tomorrow for your training. It’s at 4, right? I have a flight at midnight but I’ll try to make it work, no matter how tight my schedule is. Here, though, take the bracelets for your team just in case I don’t make it,” I said.

And with that, the sun set on our third day of Ethiopia-based sessions.

I only had 24 hours left in the country, but still, about 20 U15 boys were hopeful that maybe, just maybe I’d have a chance to train them.

So… Do y’all think I made it?