With two Philippines-based programs already in the bag, it was time to head to our third location and our third beneficiary organization of this summer run. After hitting the province and the islands, we were back in the metro for a session alongside the Quezon City-based House of Refuge Foundation Inc. (HORFI).

For 40 years, they have been doing incredibly important work in Metro Manila, offering refuge for over 1,000 children from cases of neglect, abandonment, and maltreatment. On this particular Thursday afternoon, we were lucky to become an extremely small part of the impact they have on the surrounding community by offering their beneficiaries a free-of-charge soccer class. Arriving early, I was greeted warmly by HORFI staff members, many of whom I had been in contact with for weeks prior.

“Hi, Coach Stephen, my name is Franceska,” said one of their social workers, extending a hand in greeting.

“And I’m Ashley,” said a social work intern, off to the side.

Ever-excited for the day’s session, we even had a chance to chop it up with HORFI’s executive director, Sir Ricky, who spoke proudly and passionately about the foundation’s offerings, and recent expansions.

“Actually, we’re looking to expand to more community-based care,” he said, referencing their current residential framework.

There were about 50 kids living on property, but nearly double that from the outside community, looking to HORFI for after-school resources and assistance. Fortunately, our program would be fielding a mix of both residential and community beneficiaries, with a number of community “scholars” dropping by for the session. It’s safe to say, they were all in for a heck of a treat. I laid out the day’s bounty – brand new Nike jerseys courtesy of our friends over at Oakwood Soccer Club. The kids cheesed from ear to ear, as if they couldn’t believe their eyes.

As I placed a blue jersey over one of our smallest participants, I called out to the crowd. “Hoy, originals naman yon friends, yeah? (Those are originals, friends) Di sya from Green Hills or anything (They’re not from Green Hills or anything),” I said, displaying some elite ball knowledge for one of Manila’s largest counterfeit markets. Ma’am Ashley laughed, I guess she was hip to it too. “Tama yan (That’s right)!” she exclaimed.

Finally, all 25 of our participants were donning their new Nike threads. It was time to get this show on the road. Our playing space was tight, but, when it comes to the Philippines, I’ve dealt with far smaller. Luckily, the rooftop grid had an overhang, and as Manila’s angry clouds poured rain onto the ceiling, I couldn’t be more thankful for the day’s venue. Another social worker, Julia, hit a quick introduction with the kids before transferring the spotlight to me. I didn’t want to talk though. I wanted to play! So, that’s exactly what we did.

We started things off with a quick 2-person warm up drill, working on moving with and without the ball. From there, we moved on to our listening drill which (as expected) was a huge hit for the kids. I felt my voice beginning to go out, and was met with the welcomed sight of a microphone, passed to me by one of the social work interns. Calling out commands through a microphone I’ll admit was a bit foreign to me, but my already strained voice muscles surely were thankful for the intervention.

“Coach!” yelled out a young chap standing to my left. “Messi or Ronaldo?”

I could tell he wasn’t just a casual fan. Sporting some green Nike dunks, the kid was clearly one of our most passionate footballers in the mix. Our warm-up drill had already proven that to be the case as I saw him hitting step over after step over with his partner. Still though, I wasn’t going to be the first to answer his question.

“Ikaw kuya… sino ng bet mo? (You, bro, who’s your bet?)” I asked.

“Messi!“ he answered.

“Tama! (True!)” I exclaimed, “Team Messi din ako! (I’m also on Team Messi!)”

After our listening drill had been run to perfection, it was time to hit some relay races. I couldn’t help but smile, watching some of our older beneficiaries mix in well with the younger girls during relays, helping walk them through each variation. There was a level of care and gentleness there, and I couldn’t be happier to see them all working together so well. Competition was about to hit a crescendo though, with Red Light, Green Light on the agenda. The kids were fired up!

I only had ten footballs with me and with 20 participants present, it was going to be impossible to run the drill with each of them having their own ball.

I called an audible. “Guys, grab your partners from before!”

They scampered, quickly searching for their best friends and homies. The change was simple. Red Light, Green Light in one direction, until the first in each group made it to our first line of cones. Then, the same thing in the opposite direction, with the second partner giving it their best shot.

After Red Light, Green Light had been run multiple times over, it was time to keep that competition going. Our partners were no longer going to be working together, but now facing each other during 1 on 1s towards their goal.

“Yellow” and “orange” were my commands, with players attempting to score a goal on whichever corresponding goal I called out.

It took them a while to understand, but I’ll admit, their confusion did yield hilarity.

“Orange!” I called out, watching from afar as both boys darted towards the orange goal, with no ball in tow.

“Oi!” I yelled out. “Yung bola! (The ball!)”

They chuckled.

Running back to the center, they grabbed the ball with their hands and ran towards the orange net.

“Oi!” I called out again.

“Walang kamay! (No hands!)” I yelled.

They chuckled again. “Sorry, Coach!”

With not a whole lot of time left, I decided to wind the program down with Ulo o Kamay. This one, just as always, was a big hit. Plus, with football bracelets at stake, the kids were prepared to do their absolute best to leave victorious. One of our eldest kids, a lad named Jimboy, decided to make a joke, right in the middle of my instruction. After all, the kids were a bit nervous given that heading the ball was certainly new to them. “Wag ka na mag-alala, friends, medyo malambot yung bola (Don’t worry, friends, the ball is pretty soft),” I said.

“Yung bola dyan, dba Coach? (That ball right there, right Coach?)” He asked, pointing at a basketball and laughing behind his other hand.

I saw his joke and raised him one more time. “Cge… para sa’yo lang, hah? (Okay, for you only though, right?)” The boy and I shared a laugh before diving straight into our game. Like I said, the kids loved this one.

One little guy in particular, a young boy named Marlon, had me dying laughing. I watched him heading and hitting the ball with his hands, with let’s say extreme force. Let’s also say, he played the game with about 40% accuracy.

“Okay naman kahit mali basta confident! (It’s okay if you’re incorrect, as long as you’re confident!)” I joked out.

Ulo o Kamay and our trusty neck stall drill finished, it was time to draw the session to a close. I thanked the kids for their time and energy, and we all hit a little dance session to burn off any remaining energy.

I was excited about this collaboration with HORFI, and eagerly looked forward to the chance of working with them again, hopefully at an even larger covered court with even more of their nearly 100 beneficiaries from community-based care.

“Until next time, Coach Stephen,” said our social work interns, waving with joy alongside HORFI’s finest young athletes, all donning their new Nike jerseys.