Two successful Philippines-based sessions in the bag, it was time to move onto program number three, which was a special one alongside the incredible folks of SOS Children’s Villages (SOSCV) Manila. Now, those familiar with our story might know that Around the Worlds and SOSCV collaborations are nothing new. In fact, we partnered with them in several different countries, including Panama and Botswana.

With SOSCV’s work spanning over 130 countries and ours now having reached 68, this was only inevitable. I was excited to work with such a reputable organization yet again, ever-pleased with how our collaborations went in the past. There’s a reason why we didn’t stop just at Panama and Botswana, having gone on to set up prospective sessions in Uruguay and Jordan, even. As expected, SOS staff was as professional as it gets, establishing a long line of contact several months ahead of our session. They sent pictures of our venue. They polled beneficiaries to determine interest. They sent along a set of dates that fit their schedule, hoping one might work out for the both of us.

At the top was a gentleman known affectionately as Mr. RJ. His responses were quick and concise, and I looked forward to connecting with him in person. After a bit of dialogue, we settled on a mid-August session.

“Can you guys remind me of your address? Just so I can coordinate my transportation to the venue,” I asked, making sure all my t’s were crossed.

He sent along an address, conveniently 20 minutes from my home-base in Manila.

“We just please ask that you arrive 15 minutes ahead of the clinic’s start time in order to sit through our child-safety orientation,” he said – our last communication before an in-person meeting the morning of the session.

Well-familiar with SOS and their policies, I gladly agreed – “Sure thing, Mr. RJ. See you then!”

Morning arrived and it was time to get things going. Mr. RJ provided a detailed breakdown of the SOSCV model and I listened intently, nodding in acknowledgment after every few words. In between slides, we exchanged brief small talk. “Wait, but why are you good at speaking Tagalog?” he asked, hearing his people but not necessarily seeing his people.

“Filipino ako boss!” (I’m Filipino) I said. All of a sudden, it all made sense.

“So do you visit often?” he responded. “Parang 20+ times na po,” (like 20+ times now) I answered, happy that so many of those visits had been Around the Worlds related.

Small (and big) talk out of the way, footy was calling.

“That’s all, tara na (let’s go),” he said, gesturing towards the outdoor basketball court and suggesting it was time to set things up.

Once there, I was welcomed by a lively bunch. They were excited, as was I.

“Good morning guys!” I yelled out, with the twenty boys sitting in front of me.

“Good morning, Coach!” they answered.

“You guys may call me Uncle Stephen or Coach Stephen, and this is my lovely assistant, Auntie Rron,” I said, introducing ourselves in the exact manner Mr. RJ had instructed us to.

“I can’t hear you guys!” I exclaimed, looking for some energy on a cloudy Saturday morning.

“Good morning, Coach!” they responded.

“Now, are you guys familiar with football?” I asked.

“Parang hindi,” (not really) they answered.

“This is their first time ever having a football training,” said Mr. RJ, giving context to the moment. “Syempre (of course) basketball and volleyball, but never football,” he continued, explaining his added excitement for the day’s session.

Right off the bat, the boys were all very helpful. Sure, they were lively, but their energy was contagious. One young man, named Manny, though the youngest boy in the group, was very generous to assist with set-up. Even his peers were happy to lend a hand, setting up footballs for our listening drill.

Eager not to waste any time, we dove straight into the exercise. “Kili kili! (armpit)” our captain yelled out, giggling through his teeth all the while. I’d be hanging onto my Tagalog body part terms for a little longer, as we transitioned right into our dribbling drill where the boys were instructed to stop the ball with whichever body part I yelled out. As always, a swell time was had by all.

Still though, assistance was needed. “Wait, Sir RJ! What’s ears again in Tagalog?” I asked. “Tainga!” he responded.

From there, I was eager to grab some prize winners, so I broke off into “Red Light, Green Light”. Of course though, I wasn’t going to make it too easy – yelling out “red light” twice in a row to catch some of the boys off-guard. I’d even throw a “blue light!” in there just to really mix things up.

After running through some relay races, I grabbed our drawstring bag prizes and some cones to set up a tic tac toe grid. I won’t lie, this ended up being my favorite part of the day – seeing the kids get so into it and support their teammates to the fullest, yelling and jumping as each one of them took their turn. The kids sneaky as ever, myself and Mr. RJ deployed ourselves to each line to make sure no players left their marks early to gain their team an unfair advantage in tic tac toe.

With our prize winners’ list not yet fully populated, I decided to break into “Ulo o Kamay” – a surefire hit with the boys.

“Just remember, baliktad guys (backwards),” I said, explaining the rules as simply as I could.

Our first winner was a young man named Gerwinn. In between rounds, I made sure to pause for plenty of applause breaks just so that the kids had plenty of positive reinforcement.

“Gerwinn, congrats!” I said. “And part of your prize is that you get to run the next round!”

“Hoy! Me?” he yelled out.

“Yes, bro. Kaya mo yan (you can do it),” I said.

Mr. RJ had allocated a three hour window for the session, but I told him I only needed 90-120 minutes. We were nearing that last 30 minutes, so I decided to bring the kids in so that I could show them my signature trick – the neck stall.

“I’m going to do some push-ups now boys, how many do you want me to do?”

“Lima!” they yelled out.

“Wait guys, ilang yung lima? (how many is ‘lima’?)” my Tagalog failing me.

“Five!”

I nodded my head. “Basta magcount kayo guys, G?” (as long as you guys count, okay?).

I rose to my feet, shuffling forward, giving one of the boys a high five, walking back, spinning around – all with the ball still there lodged on my back. Then, I flicked it up into the air and caught it back on my neck 3 times.

“Coach!” one of the boys yelled out, getting my attention. “Can you throw it super high and catch the ball on your neck?” he asked.

“Cge tol, try ko lang (okay bro, I’ll just try),” I said.

I tossed it let’s say 80 percent in the air, as the ball nestled at my back but rolled off quickly. Trying again, I tossed it to about 50 percent height, with a similar result. Lastly, I threw it a measly 30 percent distance into the air (still high for the kids, but not for me) and quickly cradled it down onto my nape. Success!

“Wow!” the boys screamed.

In need of a cooldown, I had the kids sit down for a final chat. I wanted to extract some feedback, while also testing the kids.

“Okay boys, quick question,” I said. “What was that one trick we learned during relay races kanina (earlier)?”

I chuckled as one boy named Chuck left his spot and ran off to the sidelines to ask one or two of the older boys watching if they knew the answer. I turned to my right to share a laugh with Mr. RJ, “Tignan mo, Sir RJ, may phone a friend dyan.” (look, Mr. RJ, there’s a phone a friend lifeline there)

Unfortunately, the answer came a little too late, as our trusty Gerwinn piped in with the correct one. “Stepover,” he said loud and proud.

“What games did you guys like?” was my next question.

“Well… I enjoyed ulo o kamay,” said one boy.

“And tic tac toe too!” said another.

“Coach?” asked Chuck, “Can you do a rainbow?” although the word for the trick escaped him so he just charaded it to me with his feet.

“Syempre bro! Kaya ko yan, tignan mo!” (Of course, I can do it, just watch!)

I grabbed a ball from the leftover stash, lodged it between my shoes, and flicked it high over my head.

“Ang taas!” (How high!) yelled Chuck and the boys.

“Wait lang, isa pa,” (just wait, one more) I said, going even higher the second time.

The boys watched in awe, calling out to their peers watching from the side.

“Look at that!” they said.

My little show was halted, as one of the boys approached from the wings.

“Excuse me Uncle, one of the boys didn’t get a bag,” he said.

“Don’t worry, may extras dito!” (there are extras here!)

I grabbed a bag and a ball, asking the boy, “may bracelet sya?” (does he have a bracelet?) 

“Opo meron,” (yes, he does) the boy answered politely, with a smile.

I looked down at the surplus of soccer balls resting by my feet. “Mr. RJ, these remaining footballs are for you guys – I promise I don’t need the remaining ones.”

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yes!”

“Perfect, these will be a huge help during our recreation days or our annual sports fest in the summer,” he said, cheesing from ear to ear.

As the kids had returned back to their houses, Mr. RJ and I had a chance to chop it up, recounting the day’s events.

“Be completely honest with me, Mr. RJ – did you feel that the football program today was age appropriate?” I asked, curious if the 8-14 year old participants in attendance were sufficient demographic-wise.

“Yes!” he responded.

“You know, Stephen, the kids really did enjoy this one today,” he added.

Expressing plenty of gratitude from his side, he extended an invite back for SOS’s annual donor and partners gala, to be held in December.

“Even if you can’t make it, I’d be happy to explore the possibility of similar programs like this one at one of our eight other locations (Iloilo, Tacloban, Cebu, and more),” he said.

“Just reach out to me, and I’d be happy to coordinate any further partnerships for you.”

I smiled, for contacts like Mr. RJ are few and far between in this game. Plus, thanks to him, the entire SOS Philippines network had opened up for us. Until next time, SOSCV Manila!