Wednesday rolled around and with it came our third straight programming day, which included our fourth and fifth classes of this marathon run of Mexico-based programming. It was a triumphant return to the country’s capital, and between our programs and the soon-approaching FIFA World Cup, excitement for the beautiful game was at an all time high.

I was excited to build off of that momentum and hopped into an Uber heading towards the center of the city. With that energy still rising, things hit a snag. The clouds turned dark and it began to downpour. We had committed and were already en route, so Mom and I had no choice but to continue on, but I won’t lie, things were looking grim.

“Tenemos que ver la situacion,” said my contact Karla from our partners on the day – Ednica IAP.

I wasn’t super optimistic, but still, we persisted. My phone buzzed again. A text from Karla.

“Necesitas algún material de nuestra parte?” she asked.

“Pues un techo si tienes una!” I said, with a chuckle.

“Es nuestro deseo también,” she responded. All we could do was make some light of the situation, I suppose.

“Es como yo dije a mi Uber… todo el día no hay lluvia, pero cuando tenemos que salir… ya hay,” I told her.

“Así es! Bienvenidos a CDMX!” she said, far more familiar with the situation than myself.

The forecast, deemed unpredictable for the unknowing, had started to reveal some patterns for better or for worse. The sun would shine bright til about 3 PM. Then, the rain would come right when our programs were about to start. We were operating effectively as an after school program, so our sessions were always set to begin in the mid-afternoon.

Luckily, the past two days we had overhangs at our sessions, but unfortunately, this program was going to be held in open air. I held my breath and hoped for the best.  Pulling up to “El Centro”, that hope was met with a blessing, as we found a covered part of the park sufficient for the day’s program. Then, we waited, praying that the kids would show up despite the heavy rain. With nothing but waiting on the schedule, I took the time to chat it up with Karla.

“Yo recuerdo que tu hiciste una clase de futbol con nosotros… yo creo que en 2022,” Karla said.

“Siiii! En un parque, se llama Edén?” I asked, not quite confidently.

“Si!” she responded, affirmatively.

“Ah qué pena, tenemos nuestro airbnb tan cerca allá… te lo juro, menos que 3 minutos caminando,” I told her, informing her of our current whereabouts.

“We still have that branch of Ednica,” she said, “but it’s tough because it’s mainly older children and many of them have work in that area.”

I nodded my head in agreement.

“Entonces, por eso estamos aquí!” she exclaimed.

Waiting game over, it was time to kick things off. Our numbers had thinned out, but the kids did still show. I mean, how could they not! They were set to play footy AND receive some awesome prizes. First on the list were some brand new Nike jerseys for our first group of the day. I intentionally left the tags on the jerseys, knowing just how important that little, though simple, step of ripping a tag off of a kit is. Luckily, my thoughtfulness was rewarded.

“Es nueva!” exclaimed a young lad with glee, pulling the black Nike top over his head and shoulders.

Karla was thrilled for the giveaways too, knowing how well-received they would be by the kids.

“I was looking at what we had available and I saw the Nike jerseys and got super excited!” I said to her. “Y gracias a Dios, they fit the kids perfectly!”

Well… most of them did. Some of the jerseys fit big, none fit small, but they were all (as expected) received with absolute gratitude and joy.

“Es como un vestido, no?” I said with a chuckle, looking at the Nike jersey draped over our smallest player on the day.

With each participant donning their new threads, it was finally time to begin. I drew our small group in for a quick chat and then we were off, shooting out of a cannon with our listening drill. The kids laughed and giggled and man, the smiles were plenty. Those smiles continued from listening drill, to dribbling drill, all the way til ‘Red Light, Green Light’.

Still though, I wanted to up the competition, choosing to do so with the introduction of ‘mano o cabeza‘. This one was a trip, let me tell you.

“Quieres mano o cabeza?” I said to Lupita, our littlest participant of the group, her jersey flowing well beyond her knees – como un vestido.

“Mano,” she said, confidently.

“Okay, Lupita, eres la jefa,” I said with a chuckle, turning to Karla in shared laughter.

Lastly, we hit a 1v1 drill with the little ones, which they received (surprisingly) well. Finally, our younger group of Ednica beneficiaries left the fray and it was time for the older ones to take the spotlight. They showed up excitedly and more than ready to play… paying absolutely no mind to the slick surface of our colored basketball court.

“Si, esta mojada, pero queremos jugar, Profe,” they told me, wiping a finger on the court’s surface to assess the situation.

Wanting to waste no time at all, we jumped straight into an active warm-up with all our participants dribbling around the wet space carefully. From there, I lined them all up on one sideline so we could hit ‘Red Light, Green Light’ since the game had been so well-received across the past three days.

From there, we returned back to the shade of a tree, as the wet court had proved to be largely unplayable. Hitting ball control grids, I called out to our young athletes to provide a bit of direction.

“Con la derecha!” I yelled out. “Eso!” I added.

“Con el izquierdo!” I yelled afterwards. “Con el otro izquierdo, amigo!” I added, watching a boy refuse to use his weaker foot despite multiple attempts.

Our beneficiaries were already displaying a higher level of skill than when they first arrived, so I broke into a heading drill that had them performing controlled headers and powerful clearances.

“Profe, me llevo una pelota?” a boy asked me, while waiting his turn.

“Let’s see!” I responded, with a wink.

Eventually, there was nothing left but to wrap up the session with some freestyle before giving each of our participants a new football. I demoed a neck stall, taking a few steps forward to interact with our beneficiaries while the ball was still lodged on the nape of my neck.

“Amigo, dame un cinco!” I called out, with an arm extended towards a fella in a Barca jersey.

“Ah profe…. no tengo (dinero),” the boy said, shrugging his shoulders as high as the heavens.

“Tu mano, amigo!” I yelled out, chuckling from the heart.

The audience burst out in laughter. Unsurprisingly, as they had done all throughout the program, they effortlessly imitated my neck stall trick.

“Amigos, I want to know what you learned today!” I called out, as they all raised their hands.

“The neck stall trick!” one said, the lesson still fresh in her mind.

“Hacer cosas como un pollito!” said another, a callback to that same neck stall trick.

“Hmm…,” said our tallest participant, in deep thought.

A lightbulb flickered. “A caerme!” he said, laughing just as loud and deep as earlier in the session.

Feedback successfully completed, there was nothing left but to give out those brand new soccer balls to our deserving young athletes. Each with a new football in their hands, we posed for a group shot. “Whiskey!” some of the kids in the back row yelled out.

“Six, seven!” some from the front replied.

“Gracias, mis amigos, gracias por venir,” I said, with a sense of deep gratitude.

The kids were not forced to be there, but despite the rain, they still showed up and showed out. And for that, I was thankful. Thank you, Mexico! Thank you for everything.