Now, the way that our second Rwanda-based program came to be certainly was a special one. Honestly, though, that’s often how so many of our collaborations come to life. Someone knowing someone who knows someone else. They say it takes a village, and our (ever-growing) village is one of the best in the business.

For this one, my initial contact came through my alma mater, Ellington High School. There, a math teacher had linked me up with a charity who, as you know by now, knew someone who knew someone. Next thing you know, and only a matter of weeks later, I found myself ushered through the front gate of Life Roots School in the Kacyiru sector of Kigali.

We had two sessions planned, a 2 p.m. class with the juniors (aged 7-10) followed by a high-level one with the seniors (13+ years old).

“Your timing could not have been better, considering the older boys are training for a trip to Ghana for an interscholastic competition equal parts academic and athletics,” said one of the school’s PE teachers. “Needless to say, we were excited to have you here.”

Having arrived early, I took some time to chop it up with the two sports teachers, Coach Jessy and Coach Richie, as well as the school’s superintendent. We chatted about football. The coaches (unfortunately) fans of the sinking ship known as Manchester United, we chuckled over our own misfortunes as my team, Liverpool, had fared no better as of late – losing a midweek tilt against a low, I mean, really low level side in the FA Cup.

“I thought for sure you’d be coming with more people!” said Coach Richie, having studied our informational brochure before my arrival. Still though, he was eager to chat – sharing travel stories of his own to South Africa and Ghana, while asking about my own trips to Manila, Colombia, and more. He spoke about his experience in São Paulo, Brazil, while I recounted the time my driver in the jungle outside Rio flexed a Glock under his seat and I immediately knew I was somewhere I shouldn’t be.

Both him and Coach Jessy were incredibly charismatic and conversation flowed like water, so much so, that I forgot I had a program to run!

“Coach, it’s a shame you can’t come here tomorrow. Tuesday is athletics day at the school and pretty much the entire school day is devoted to sports!” said Coach Richie. I shook my head in regret, though Coach understood I had other school football classes to attend to the following day.

Time flew by faster than we could talk, as the clock struck 1:55 and we realized it was time to start prepping for the sessions. Running a quick tour around the school, I got acquainted with the grounds, before introducing myself to the junior group for a pre-class chat.

I walked them through my expectations for the session – hitting our usual buzzwords of “respect, energy, and attention.” Buttering them up with a little extra motivation, I promised there would be some take home prizes, as long as all requirements were met. They nodded their heads in agreement, as we made our way to a gorgeous lifted football field at the back of the school.

Deploying four pupils to a set of cones laid out for passing lines, we worked on one-touch and two-touch passes before instructing every participant to grab their own football for a rectangular dribbling activity. They were told to keep their eyes up, making sure not to bump into their neighbors while motoring about the space. Then, we hit the clinic mainstays – toe touches, ball slides, stepovers, and new curriculum favorite – popcorn.

Every once in a while, I’d allow a student to demo one of them for me, pausing for applause from his or her peers – so that the clinic featured plenty of positive reinforcement. The hot Rwandan sun absolutely toasting our playing space, I made sure to stop for plenty of water breaks, hitting yet another one between rectangular dribbling and our ever-so-popular king of the hill drill. After grabbing two winners – Eloi and Ethan, we broke back into three teams to hit ball control grids led by myself, Coach Richie, and the school’s volleyball coach.

Running the gamut as usual, and time ticking down quickly for our first of two sessions, I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. It was the seniors, doing a whole, entire hill workout off to the side. In between, they were hitting planks and push-ups. You name it, they were doing it.

“Man, these older boys are dedicated,” I thought to myself, knowing my body was ready to die from heatstroke despite barely exerting half the effort the seniors were.

Eager to move onto our senior group, I wrapped things up with the younger students – taking a little bit of extra time for a chat, distribution of prizes (drawstring bags), and a little autograph session of a new Rwanda jersey for my collection. The kids cheesed as they approached the jersey, ready to offer up their John Hancock. In their hands, they clutched our gorgeous new teal-colored drawstring bags, emblazoned with the Around the Worlds logo.

Careful not to neglect our incredible helpers on the day, I called over the school’s coaches to lend their signatures as well. Coach Richie shouted with glee. “Oh, I’ve been waiting to sign this jersey all day!” he said, stepping forward and providing his autograph as if he were signing a Man U contract on press day.

As the younger kids recouped some of their energy after our long first session in the hot Rwandan sun, it was time to bring in the older boys for our second training program. This group was noticeably smaller (in size) than the first. I was excited to jump quickly into some partner work and to touch upon some higher-level skills and techniques. Still, though, fun was at the forefront, as we quickly opened up into our listening drill.

From there, we circled up and ran the cycle of ball control variations – with the kids giving it their absolute all throughout the entirety of the drill. Actually, perhaps even a bit too much so… as a younger boy approached me before our last variation with a question.

“Coach? Can I get some water?” he said. Before he could even make it to the sidelines, he had thrown up right beside my feet.

The situation itself a cautionary tale, I wrapped up the ball control exercise and demanded the kids grab some water before we moved on. Making sure to drink plenty of water myself, I was happy to take the break to get some touches on the ball too.

“Hey, Coach! I wanna see you score a free kick!” shouted an older, taller boy, who had been observing, but not participating in the session.

Knowing my own ability (or lack thereof), I offered up an alternative.

“I won’t take a set piece bro, but I can knock the crossbar, if you’d like,” I said.

He was hooked.

“Let’s see it, Coach!”

I lined one up, hitting a dart with my right foot that pinged right off the center of the crossbar.

The boy was shocked.

“NO WAY!” he exclaimed.

His shock wasn’t fading. “Ain’t no way! Yo guys come over here! Coach just knocked the crossbar on his first try!” he yelled out, drawing a crowd.

“Oh ya?” said another player, doubt in his voice. “Run it back then, Coach, I bet you can’t do it twice!”

“Get outta here bro!” I said. “No way I’m gonna hit it twice before you can even hit it once, man! I’m retiring, I’m going home!” I joked.

Minutes later, I set up teams and captains for our 1v1 drill, which was sure to be a fan-favorite with the kids. Despite the scorching hot sun, the kids went crazy with this one. We had sets of twins facing off against each other, we had physical challenges, world-class finishes, brilliant saves, and more.

*Tweet!* I blew my whistle. The situation was urgent, a young buck down in a heap on the ground. He had tweaked his ankle on the last play, his effort at goal thwarted by a last minute tackle. Two boys helped move him off the pitch, while I placed the ball steps back from the goal at a (non-existent) penalty stripe.

“Whose team was he on?” I asked, polling the boys.

They pointed to the leftmost side. “Alright guys, pick someone to come take this pen.” They designated a kicker and he lined up in front of net.

One deep breath, three paces back, and a swift kick of the ball. Save! The goalkeeper prevented the effort from hitting the net.

I called our teams back for a new variation, involving each player gently jumping up and bumping the opponent shoulder-to-shoulder before chasing after the ball.

“First to two, boys! Then we’ll call it a wrap,” I said.

Finally grabbing a second goal, I drew the group in for one last chat. “Boys… why is that last variation important? What were we working on there?”

A couple hands shot up fast, all giving similar accounts of basically the correct answer.

“Exactly,” I said, “to practice clean, physical play in a 50/50 challenge.”

The feedback session continued, with the older boys sharing their favorite and least favorite parts of the session. 1v1s, headers, and volleys were some of the highlights here. Having received 100% of the boys’ effort, attention, energy, and behavior throughout the session, it was time to reward our footballing talent with some take-home prizes.

“Just to thank you guys for today, I have a brand new football for all of you,” I said. They cheered and whooped and hollered.

Meanwhile, Coach Richie was trying to reel me back in for some more sessions – ever-so-pleased with how the day had played out.

“Coach, can you come back on Friday? I want to run a pre-game training session with the older boys, ahead of a weekend match,” he said.

“Coach, I wish! I’ll be back in the states then, though,” I responded.

He wasn’t ready to give up yet. “How about Wednesday? We can adjust our schedule for you,” he said.

This one was a bit more enticing. “I mean, I got a flight at 3 a.m. on Thursday, but I can certainly try! No promises though, Coach, okay? It’s not a sure thing, totally dependent on the next day’s weather,” I answered. Hope sufficient enough, Coach Richie smiled and we continued with our new football distribution.

I looked up and saw the boys happily clutching their new footballs in their hands, but noticed we still had some left.

“Guys, we’re still missing a couple people. Who doesn’t have a ball yet?” I scoped out a couple players without a football in their hands. “It’s okay, Coach,” said one boy shaking his head – “I already have some footballs at my house.”

“No bro please, I insist! I don’t wanna take those home!” I said with a laugh, one swiftly returned by him.

A school administrator named Christine approached me with a question – “Umm, Coach Stephen, is it okay if we give some bracelets to the younger kids even though they didn’t participate? There’s like nine of them,” she said.

“Sure!” I replied, before averting my eyes to the group in front of me.

Easily pushing 17 years old, I wasn’t sure what their response would be, but figured I’d ask anyway. “Older boys, do you guys want bracelets?”

“Of course, Coach!!” they yelled, just as eager as the juniors from earlier, clearly not wanting to be left out.

Still with a football or two left over, I posed a challenge. I had been chopping it up with the team’s captain, a tall lad named Reuben, who had unfortunately been sidelined due to forgetting his sports clothes at home. He was gutted to say the least. Standing beside him was another tall boy, although unlike Reuben this boy preferred basketball over soccer.

“Coach, did you ever play professionally?” asked Reuben. “That guy right there,” he said, pointing at a young buck in a Gunners jersey. “He wants to be a professional footballer.”

“Lemme guess, for Arsenal?” I asked. The boy nodded.

“Man… that’s a great coach, I mean who wouldn’t want to play for Mikel Arteta!” I said, the boy smiling at my sufficient ball knowledge.

The boy stood beside Reuben then asked a question. “Coach, do you play volleyball, netball, or basketball? Or just football?”

“Nah man,” I answered, asking the same of him. “I’m a basketball player,” he said confidently, as if I couldn’t tell from his tall build.

“What’s your height?” I asked him.

“6’4”” he answered.

I couldn’t believe my ears. “Sheesh… at 16??? That’s crazy!”

Though the theme of the day was football, rather than basketball, he still wanted to participate in some way.

“Coach, you think I could hit the crossbar?” the tall boy asked.

“Tell you what, if you do I’ll give you a football,” I said, buttering things up.

“My own football?!?” he said, eyes lit up.

“Yeah bro, sure!”

He was in… like fully down.

First attempt, unfortunately missed high.

“Hey, let’s go best out of two!” I said, hoping he might be closer on the second.

He missed that one far and wide.

“Come on, man!” I yelled out, having hoped to give the ball away.

“I’ll stick to basketball, Coach,” he said with a laugh, knowing his strengths better than anyone else.

“Deal!” I said, extending my hand for a shake.

Random crossbar challenge out the way, the questions continued to flow.  This one came from the boy who was too shy to accept a new ball at the end of the session. “Coach, how many schools have you visited, do you think?”

“Man… I can’t answer that question, but here in Africa we’ve held training sessions at schools in Ghana, Burkina Faso, Ivory Coast, among many many others. And I can’t give you a number of schools, but I can tell you we’ve held programs now in 66 countries.”

“What!?” the young man responded, clearly dumbfounded.

Our second of two sessions finished, I retreated to the wings, where I had been instructed to give a little pep talk to the school’s volleyball team. I told the girls how important sports were in the grand scheme of life, how they often teach us skills and values that translate off of the field and into the classroom, our jobs, and daily life. I encouraged them to keep playing and to cherish the time they had with teammates and friends, knowing that oftentimes those are the moments we miss the most once the boots get hung up.

All deliverables successfully delivered on the day – it was time for a wrap-up chat with the school administrators. We gleefully recounted the day’s events, myself gushing about how divine a connection it was – all the way from Ellington to Kigali. I thanked the staff for bringing the sessions to life, as they smiled about their brand new resources to benefit the team for months to come. Graciously enough, Christine, Coach Richie, and Coach Jessy insisted on walking me to the front gate, so they could hail a motorbike to take me back to Kabeza.

I knew I was in good hands, as Coach Richie, himself living in Kabeza, too, was adamant on getting me the best possible price.

“Bro, we are not gonna let you get scammed today!” he assured. “The most you should be paying for a bodaboda is 1,500.”

Some back and forth out of the way, a motorcycle was pulling up to the side of the street.

“1,300 is the price, Coach, and I’ve already paid him, so there’s no need to add anything when you arrive,” he said. What a guy!

We laughed at my easy-to-take-advantage-of-ness, “I’ll be honest, Coach Richie, I would’ve ended up paying 5,000 easily, my friend,” I said with a laugh.  “No way, Coach, we got you!” he answered.

Funny enough, the motorbike driver whispered to Coach Richie at that exact moment, “he does look like the type of guy I’d charge 5,000 for the ride.”

Just like that, on a humorous note, it was back to Kabeza on the back of a motorcycle, four sessions done, and three more to go!