Now, prior to our latest session in Cebu, our Philippines-based programs had mainly been limited to just two cities – Manila and Baguio, the latter being my mother’s hometown. Luckily, Cebu included, we had had the opportunity to branch out in the country, with some sessions in places like Zambales and beyond. Thankfully, today would be more of the same.

This would be a proper session held in “the province” – places known for a pace far slower than city life. Places where foot traffic is plentiful, and motorcycles govern the streets far more than cars ever could. Basically, a complete 180 from Manila. I had a beneficiary set up out there, a Lingayen-based high school soccer team. I actually met the team almost exactly one year ago to the day, linking up with them in August of 2024 during one of their 5x weekly training sessions.

Back then an appearance more than anything, I had arrived underprepared and under-resourced, but I still wanted to show my face in the hope (and promise) that I’d be able to work with them in the near future. Luckily, today was that day. To their credit, the players met the moment with respect & excitement, as I was greeted extremely warmly by every single player, approaching me with an outstretched hand.

“My name is Kennedy,” said one of the older boys, warming up on the sideline with some of his friends. Fittingly, considering he was the first to introduce himself, Kennedy serves as team captain. Beyond his positive attitude, you could really see a natural sense of leadership there.

“I’m Chino,” said another one of the bigger boys, a lanky chap rocking purple Adidas boots.

“Ganun talaga ng pangalan mo, bro?” (Is that really your name?) I asked, his title bearing a striking resemblance to some of my homies in Guatemala, Mexico, and beyond.

“Opo,” (yes) he said, listing off his full government name to me.

Last to round out the bunch was Carl, reaching out his hand for a shake with a big smile on his face. As far as afternoon sessions go, this would certainly be classified as a “late” one. Usually, the kids are in school until 4:30 PM, but these days they go until 5 PM, after an unintentional five day break due to flooding in the province.

Though we were originally scheduled to start at 5, once the kids came from school and changed the clock was pushing 5:30. Nothing to fear though, we still had a solid hour-long window to play until night fell over our comfortable venue, the Lingayen Capitol Grounds. Coming to me in a fresh Nike Portugal jersey and some magistas down below, I was greeted warmly by Coach EJ – a former PSU student athlete, now turned coach. Like many of the kids, I had met him last year during my quick stopover in Lingayen.

We chopped it up, coach to coach, eager to run through the day’s plan and exercises. We would be kicking things off with a dynamic warmup, led by the team’s captains. From there, I split our large group of 37 right down the middle for two equally-large dribbling grids.

Desperate to make the most of our already-closing window of daylight, I transitioned things over quickly to our next drill – one gigantic circle to run the gamut of ball control variations. Coaching staff and children alike participated until sweat dripped heavily from our brows. Mid-transition from volleys to half volleys, a young boy approached with his mom – “Is it okay if he joins today?” she asked.

“What is your name, young man?” I asked our new face. “Hayden,” he said, shyly.

Coach EJ debriefed Hayden’s mom with some very quick details on the team, including proper attire for future sessions. Meanwhile, Hayden dove straight into our session. I sensed some nervousness and fear in his eyes, so I paid close attention to him – far more than the other players.

“Ang galing!” (you’re so good!) I’d yell out, between touches.

“Great job, Hayden!” I’d say, giving plenty of positive reinforcement to our young buck, hoping he’d fall in love with the sport just as much as I had when I was his age.

Bodies weary and legs heavy, it was time to shift over to our final drill of the (now) night. Coach EJ and another member of his coaching staff, Coach Ron, had graciously set up two pop-up goals at either end of our Capitol Grounds field. Recognizing their effort, I grasped the opportunity to utilize our whole space, splitting our group once again in two to run 1v1s at goal.

Coach EJ would wisely call an audible later on, branching the drill out into 3v3 and 4v4 towards goal, in order to simulate team play. Just like before, in the middle of this drill a young boy approached me to say, “Coach? Sorry to bother, I’d just like to introduce myself.”

Now, the sky had gotten dark a long while back and we were doing the best we could under the comfort of some dim lights lining the Capitol Grounds. But it was reaching a point where the footballs (though appropriately colored in bright yellow) could not be seen without the aid of night-vision goggles. I blew my whistle and drew the session to a close, calling the boys in for a quick post-training chat. I had a number of people to thank – starting with Coach EJ and Coach Ron. The kids responded with a thunderous round of applause.

Next on the list, a man considered football royalty in Lingayen, Coach Robert “Pars” Sison. Coach EJ put it best, describing Coach Pars’s CV to the boys. “Guys, clap loud and clap hard because this team right here? It doesn’t exist without the work that Coach Pars did to establish a strong foundation for football here in our province.”

The players all responded accordingly. Last of all, and maybe most importantly, was a round of applause for the boys themselves. “It’s late and it’s dark and you guys could’ve been anywhere else tonight, but you chose to be here. And for that, I thank you,” I said.

I put my hands together and commended them, remembering it was a school day too, after all.

“Boys, I promised I’d have a take-home gift for all of you at the end of the session, dba? (right?)” I said.

They nodded their heads.

“I’m ready now to make good on that promise,” I added – inviting each player forward to grab one of the yellow footballs we had used during the session.

First, our prizewinners stepped forward, followed by winning teams from our 3v3 and 4v4 at goal drill. Then, the rest of the players rounded out the group.

When all was said and done though, I realized I had made a bad mistake. I was told we would likely have between 25-30 participants. I was adamant on getting as close to an exact estimate as possible because of the footballs. Not wanting to leave anyone empty-handed, I came prepared with 36 soccer balls on my person. Now guess how many kids showed up to training? Yep, 37.

They worked their way to our pile of treasures, each grabbing a yellow ball and placing it under their arms. But eventually, two players were left and just one soccer ball remained. I watched as the older of the two, Kennedy, stepped aside – allowing his younger counterpart to retrieve the last prize.

I was touched, but I was hardly surprised, for that moment was just the next in a series of incredible ones from just a short training session. Kennedy was the true definition of a captain, able to lead from the front, but choosing to lead from the back when necessary. I tapped him on the shoulder and acknowledged the maturity in his actions, “Thanks for doing that, Kennedy. And don’t worry, I have a couple more balls back in Manila… I’ll make sure to set one aside for you and bring it here on my next visit.”

He smiled. He knew I was good for it and of course, he was willing to wait. After all, that’s what a captain does, dba?