There were almost two and a half months between our last program in Conakry, Guinea and our next one in the Philippines. Luckily, the long wait was well worth it because this particular session was not just taking us to a new organization, but to a new city and island: Cebu.

I had heard many stories about Cebu, an island recently dubbed a hotbed for footballing talent in the country. The kids I worked with, though, were at a beginner, or even pre-beginner level. The youngest was barely three years old, while the oldest was pushing 15. They were all part of an organization known as Cebu Children’s Foundation, Inc. (or CCFI, for short).

Fortunately, the 10 week hiatus was a productive one. I had spent the time coordinating with several prospective beneficiaries in the Philippines, with CCFI being one of them. After a successful video call across competing time zones and a series of email exchanges afterwards, the session was a go. I was notified that it would feature about 20 participants, many with little to no knowledge of the sport. Our venue was a solid one – a covered basketball court that doubled as a parking area for the foundation.

With the details all squared away, I couldn’t wait to get to Cebu for our first ever program there. Landing in Cebu on a Wednesday afternoon, I had plenty of time to prep before Saturday’s program. I sent a final email to my contact, Jeshua, letting him know I’d arrived and opened up Google maps to check the distance from CCFI’s center to my accommodations in the city’s luxurious IT Park. Twenty minutes, it read. Perfect!

Ten weeks worth of excitement bubbling to the surface, Saturday came around and it was finally time for some Cebu-based football. I did an adequate amount of preparation, but I’d unfortunately let one thing slip my radar. These kids, being from Cebu, did not necessarily speak the Philippines’ native tongue – Tagalog. Rather, their first language was the region-specific “Bisaya”.

Used to running Philippines-based sessions in a mix of Filipino and English, I knew I’d have to make some adjustments. Fortunately, the kids were fantastic. They understood a fair deal of English and Tagalog, and even helped translate words over into their native Bisaya. More so, in my brief language lesson, I was pleased to notice similarities to their Tagalog equivalents.

Arriving early for the morning start, I acclimated myself to the space as well as the kids. They were friendly and excited, with a willingness to play despite the hot Cebu sun striking the uncovered parts of the parking area. A few kids came up to introduce themselves, which I surely appreciated.

“What’s your name, Coach?” they’d ask.

“Stephen… anong pangalan mo?” I’d answer.

“Mary Jane,” responded one. “Wendel,” answered another.

I committed the names to memory and got right to work, setting things up for our first drill while the kids looked on with curiosity. The group was much bigger than advertised, with about 27 kids in attendance.

With the heat, along with the spread in age and skill level, I knew I was in for a challenge. I was up for it though, eager to put on a show for the kids.

“Okay guys, please partner up for our first drill!” I yelled out.

Our young athletes immediately grabbed the arms of their best friends or even their siblings, and flooded onto the playing space for our listening drill. I ran a couple rounds in Tagalog before inviting Mary Jane forward to run a couple herself in Bisaya, Tagalog, English, or whatever she wanted. She met the task and did so with joy on her face.

It was so much fun to sit back, first as the person leading the drill, then as one participating in it, and lastly simply as a bystander. In every instance, the kids had smiles on their faces and could be heard giggling from miles away. Next on the agenda was our relay race portion of the program. The kids were just as fired up for this part too! Fielding participants as young as 4-5 years old can usually pose a challenge, but luckily, some ‘ates’ (older sisters) aged 17 and 20 years old were on hand to help navigate our young athletes through unfamiliar territory.

Relay races done and dusted, we moved onto ball control work. I was pleased to watch how the older kids interacted with the younger ones, ushering them through every single technique, ever-so-patient for them to succeed before moving onto the next. After ball control work, we broke into a 1v1 drill before quickly moving on to our premiere event – ulo o kamay. Well… in pure Cebu-fashion, today’s game would be a bit different.

“Ulo o kamot,” was the name of the game, as the kids had so graciously translated our program mainstay into their native Bisaya.

“Wait, anong Bisaya ng ‘kamay’?” I questioned our participants.

“Kamot!” they responded.

“Kamote?” I answered, with a slick grin – referencing the Tagalog word for ‘sweet potato.’

“No, Kuya!” they yelled out, between laughs.

Our first winner was the ever-helpful Mary Jane. Right after her was a girl named Nanet bearing a close resemblance to her.

“Kapatid ko yan,” (that’s my sister) Mary Jane said with a smile, pointing towards Nanet.

It was good to see that winning was a family affair! Seeing how much the kids were enjoying this one, I couldn’t help but want to keep the joy going. Our third prize winner was the littlest in the bunch, a small fella named Kian.

He was overjoyed at the victory, brandishing a smile on his face that was bigger than his own body! With only one thing left to do, I sat the kids down on the steps in front of me and moved onto teaching them how to do a neck stall.

The Cebu sun having had its way with me for the better part of two hours, it was time to wrap things up. It had been relentless all morning, offering a pause of relief only every once in a while when a ball would roll under one of the many vans parked under the covered basketball court we were sharing our football program with. I took out some extra soccer balls for our prizewinners, while supplementing the rest of the bounty with some Around the Worlds drawstring bags. Of course, each kid would be receiving a custom, Philippines-colored bracelet too.

“Coach, did you make these?” asked one of the kids, holding her bracelet up high.

“Nanay ko,” (my mom) I said with a grin, “Hindi ako magaling magbraid,” (I’m not good at braiding) I said.

As we wrapped things up, the kids clutched their winnings in their hands. The football part of the morning had been fun, but it was on to the next thing as their house mother had just wrapped up cooking lunch, rice with bolabola (pork meatballs). Before letting them go, I was eager to draw some feedback ever-so-quickly.

“Did you guys have fun?” I asked the group.

“Yes,” they replied, softly.

“Ano yan? (What’s that?) Did you guys have fun?!” I said, trying again.

“YES!!” they said.

“And, what did you learn?”

“Football,” said a young boy, with a smile.

“The neck stall!” said another.

Still though, I wanted to test their memory. “What game did we play earlier guys?”

“Football!” Mary Jane yelled…

“Tama ka, tama ka (you’re right, you’re right),” I answered.

She wasn’t wrong, but I was looking for some specifics. She thought deeply, only for a moment. “Ulo o kamay!” she said. She was close but not quite there.

“Malapit na!” (You’re close now!) I said.

“Ulo o kamot!” she said.

Ding ding ding! I applauded, as did the rest of the group.

“Guys, tell me. How many push ups were you able to do?”

“4!”

“I did 6!”

“5…,” a girl said, with a frown.

“Okay lang! Basta meron!” I replied.

“20!” said one.

“26!” said another.

“26 grabe! More than me,” I said, as we shared a laugh.

It was an amazing morning and honestly, a perfect return after two months away from the field. I hopped in a Grab and headed to a nearby restaurant to grab some of Cebu’s ever-famous lechón. There was plenty to celebrate, and I couldn’t help but smile at myself recalling the smiles the kids had shared just moments ago all thanks to a ball and the beautiful game.