To my delight, I woke up on our last day of programming feeling far better than the day prior. I slept well and as a result, my body, though sore, had plenty of energy left in the tank. I was grateful because Wednesday was our largest programming day with three whole sessions on the agenda. I don’t want to point fingers, but I was certain there was a reason for my deep sleep and rejuvenated bill of health.

In short, power would go out every day on our street from 9:30 to about 6 PM. Every day, without fail. The timing was a bit unfortunate, considering I’d get home around noon from a long morning of soccer and want nothing other than to 1) shower and 2) take a long nap. Unfortunately, with no running water and no electric fan in my room, it was just too tall of an order. Nevertheless, I grew used to it after a week in the country.

Weary after a double shot of Tuesday sessions, I splashed some water on my face that I had collected in a bucket earlier in the morning before the water cut out. Then, I took my backpack and camera and made my way to my house’s front porch to catch a refreshing breeze rather than sweating it out in my power-less room. I wasn’t alone in this venture, as around this time every day, my roommates would take their blankets and lay down across the tiled porch floor for a mid-day siesta.

We had a nice little crew on the porch: myself, the man charged with maintaining the property, and the two women responsible for renting it out – my host Ahmed’s sister, Aicha, and her mother. Now, I must confess that my French is not very good, but there’s certainly one phrase I understand better than others. That phrase? “Let’s eat!”

Aicha approached our porch hangout with a big bowl in one hand and four metal spoons in the other. “Mangeons,” she said (Let’s eat), gesturing with one hand to her mouth, just in case the French fell short.

“Careful, it’s hot,” she said in French, and man she was not lying. I nearly torched my tongue on my first bite, but how could I not! It was fresh, home cooked food. The meal was simple, but it hit the spot. It included rice with herbs and potatoes and some hot peppers.

“Je n’ai pas beaucoup de faime,” I said, (I’m not too hungry) giving a disclaimer in case they questioned my lack of hearty servings.

“Mais c’est très délicieux!” I said, in between spoonfuls, just so the chef knew the meal was hitting.

Nothing like a home cooked meal on the road, am I right? I slept like a baby and thus, woke up Wednesday a man reborn. For some reason, the day felt different. My schedule was jam-packed, sure. Yes, my flight back home was in barely 18 hours. Yes, my body (after five sessions in four days) was incredibly weary. Still, I felt light. I felt energized. I was ready to go. Beyond that, I was excited!

Today was going to be far different than any day prior because I was working with some of CRS’s youngest students – some of them barely five years old. I was ready for the task. Plus, for the chance to not leave behind any beneficiaries at the school, especially the youngest of young? I was in! I was so in.

Just like every day before, I took a stroll down my familiar home street until I reached the main road. Then, I flagged down a cab and asked the driver, “Please take me to Simbaya.” I was well acquainted with the area by now, not even needing to take my GPS out of my pocket, instead instructing my taxi driver, “right turn here at the roundabout, right turn on that street before ‘Goal Five’, etc. etc.” Finally, we arrived at CRS’s front gate. I was working with two older groups with about 20 participants each, before gearing up to work with the little enfants.

It wasn’t an ideal order, but as I said before, I was up to the task. Luckily, just as I had come to know in the days prior, the CRS students were truly top-notch. As things go, plans quickly changed on the fly – as one of the first two sessions (originally both set to feature older students) was swapped out for one with some of CRS’s younger pupils. I didn’t mind, after all, football is football right?

He retreated back to the sidelines and I put all my focus on the task at hand – our first session of the day. To start things off, I decided we would be working on dribbling, so we dove straight into our stop the ball body part drill. I smiled from my sideline stoop, listening to an orchestra of laughter erupt as I shouted out commands like “armpit”, “butt”, “two knees”, and more.

A swell time was had by all, just like the days and sessions before. Jumping from program hit to program hit, I lined the kids up so we could get into Red Light, Green Light. When I tell you, the kids did their thing on this one!

“Green light!” I yelled out. They motored forward, tunnel vision towards the end goal – the wall opposite them.

“Red light!” I yelled. They all screeched to a halt.

They weren’t going to go down easy.

“Orange light!” I yelled out, hoping to trip up a few.

One boy immediately ran the length of the court upon hearing the “orange” command. Julius and I just watched on as he ran and ran, without stopping. We exchanged no words, but the understanding was there. “When is this boy going to stop?”

I turned to Julius, laughing, “Little man said hey my shirt is orange that must mean it’s my turn to go!” Eventually, already 3/4s of the way down the tile pitch, the boy looked back and wondered why no one else was moving. Next up? Our 1v1 game towards the metal-crafted mini goals.

I looked at our next two competitors and clocked a man-made rivalry. Julius, too, had noticed the same.

“Visca Barca!” he yelled out.

“It’s El Clasico all over again!” I responded, looking at a young man wearing a Vini Jr (Madrid) jersey and another young lad across from him in a black Barca kit.

They both put up a heck of a fight, and just like the real match’s result over the weekend – Barcelona came out on top. After that drill had extracted a proper amount of sweat and energy out of our beneficiaries, we moved over to “head it, catch it” led by Julius, before drawing the group in for a cooldown chat.

First session out of the way, we swapped in an older group who had patiently waited ever since the early morning. They were split evenly, right down the middle – 8 boys, 8 girls. To my surprise, some of them were much larger and taller than I am! Partnering up, we started with our 1v1 listening drill before carrying over those same partners to our ball control activity. This one saw groups dribbling in tandem before dropping the ball off to a trailing partner or turning around to complete a give and go sequence.

After, partners moved from one sideline to the other to run the gamut of ball control variations (volleys, half-volleys, thigh control, and headers). Along the way, our trusty helper Losine happily demoed each variation with me. Noticing a bit of difficulty, I decided to throw the students a bone. “Okay guys, if you can’t do it directly out of the air then catch it first and drop it to your foot,” I said, a variation that proved to be much easier for those struggling.

“Now that’s called a volley,” I told them, “and this is called a?”

I was trying to encourage some active listening and participation.

“A retour-volley?” (double volley) said one young man, a bit hesitantly.

“Close – it’s a half volley guys, you got that?” I answered.

They nodded in agreement. Looking to mix things up on our last day of programming, I decided to grab a prize winner using a new drill. This one involved a goal at each end and a set of partners in the middle with a ball between them. When I blew my whistle the ball would drop and I would yell out either yellow or orange, each color corresponding to the goal to their right or left. They would then scatter towards that goal and attempt to score before their opponent. No lie, for a first time drill it was very well received and, on my side, it was a fun one to facilitate!

A few minutes later, we had three goal scorers on the female side, and three on the male side.

“Guys, do rock paper scissors and the odd one out has a bye to the finals,” I instructed.

Basically, the winner for the girls and the boys would win a ball. Simple as that. It was a fantastic, albeit improvised, way to grab some prizewinners and I looked on with pride as our list of champions populated itself.

With session number six all done and dusted, there was nothing left but to move onto our final Guinea-based football class. This, I feared, would be the most exciting and energetic one of them all. Luckily, I wasn’t alone. A participant from literally the session right before it had stepped up to help me out. Aissatou was her name, a student with Liberian roots, much like Julius. I looked on with so much pride as she flowed seamlessly from the role of student to teacher, helping run our listening drill for the young cubs now occupying our playing space.

There was just one minor change for Aissatou from then until now. Now, she was donning one of our SoccerPlus tees in a bright neon colorway, matching our other assistants on the day – Coach Bangs and Losine. She was wearing the crown and she sure was wearing it well!

The teachers warned us about the kids’ excitement prior to this session starting, but I don’t think any amount of warning could’ve prepared me for the chaos that soon followed. I promise, though, I mean chaos in the best possible way. We’re talking yelling, clapping, hooting, and hollering. I wish you could’ve seen it – the kids came out and they came out in droves! All the youngest ones showed up donning their best & favorite jerseys – Barcelona, Liverpool, Juventus, Madrid, you name it… they were wearing it.

The kids were so engaged, so spirited, so enthusiastic. One young man ran towards me during our relays with a face of pure determination, with one goal and one goal only in mind – to make it to the cone and back before his older counterparts. I wanted to make sure the kids tried hard, but did so safely and in control. “Guys go slowly and carefully, remember… it’s not important how fast you get there, only that you arrive.”

My voice was shaking and my body was aching, but it was all worth it. I mean, the atmosphere was electric! I drew everyone in for a final chat – “Guys, please give a round of applause for your teachers!” They obliged.

“They work so hard for you guys and they deserve some praise.” I said, before asking for another round of applause for our other coaches and staff members, pointing to Julius and the boys.

“And lastly, a round of applause for you guys! You guys were amazing today. Did you have fun?”

“Yes….” they said, voices at medium-level.

“Huh! I can’t hear you,” I said.

“Yes!!” they yelled out, nearly shattering both my eardrums.  

When all was said and done, I passed out thank you gifts for my coaching staff – allowing Julius to take home a football and a bracelet for his young daughter, while outfitting our assistant coaches and sports committee with matching SPC shirts.

After a busy week, the football part was done and all that was left was to thank the people who made it happen. First, I moved upstairs with Julius to speak with the school’s VPA (Vice Principal of Administration).

“Let’s talk to the bosses real quick,” Julius said, tapping me on the shoulder while ushering me to the school’s second floor.

Once there, I was overcome with gratitude to the higher-ups who brought our collaboration to life.

“I gotta say thank you to you guys for welcoming these programs,” I said, making sure that gratitude flowed out of me like rain showers.

“Oh, on the contrary!” the VP responded. “We owe a big thank you to you. The kids were overjoyed with these sessions.”

Still though, I wanted to make sure those deserving of credit got their flowers.

“Sir, I want to highlight Julius’s role in this week of sessions,” I said, speaking to the school’s VPA. “Yes, Jackie was my first connection at CRS, but Mr. Gaye over here was my second and man am I so thankful we connected because this guy is the real deal,” I shared. “He coordinated everything from afar and did so perfectly – numbers, sizes, even improvising when we had to.” 

Equipment almost all the way cleaned out, I had nothing left to give except a stack of 20 cones I used that week. I left them with Coach Bangs and believe it or not, he even wanted my whistle! “They have a game tomorrow here so these will be very, very helpful,” he said, clutching the cones close to his chest.

I made my way outside of CRS’s gate to catch a final motorcycle back to my house. Julius and I shared an embrace before I asked him for one last piece of feedback. “Which day was your favorite of the three?” I questioned.

“Today,” he said with a smile. “Because we were able to get everybody to play.”