Three sessions up and three sessions down, it was time for one last return to San Juan de Miraflores for our last day of programming. It’s important to look at all days with the same lens, but I won’t lie, I was more excited than most for this session. 

I called my last Uber and was greeted by a chatty, but extremely friendly man. Fortunately, that was par for the course as far as my experience in Peru was going. We talked and talked and eventually, we pulled up to Ciudad’s tall gates and he bid me farewell. First, though, we exchanged contact details and he sent me a WhatsApp message with his name. “Just in case you ever need a ride anywhere, my friend,” he said, with a friendly smile.

I entered Ciudad’s gate and made my way back to the gorgeous, new turf fields on campus. We were set to work with two different groups today, and I was ready to go. Our first group entered the fray, organized tidily in one line facing me with military-like precision. One by one, they introduced themselves and their age, waiting patiently for the person ahead of them to finish before rifling off their information.

“I’m nine years old,” said one boy.

“I’m nine years old, too,” said another boy. “Wait, I’m actually ten… oops,” he said, correcting himself.

“Profe, how old are you?” they then asked, putting me in the hot seat.

“Pues, viejo mis hermanos!” I answered.

“Pero te pareces joven…” some of the lads replied.

“Gracias a Dios!” I exclaimed, chuffed at the compliment.

Intros fully done and dusted, we dove straight into a warm-up dribbling drill for our 13 participants. But uh oh, I only had 11 footballs with me. The rest were set aside at Casa Sonrisa after Thursday’s class. Luckily, the kids were so helpful!

“I’ll go grab them,” said one. “Me too!” said a second. I smiled from ear to ear at their generosity.

Balls finally acquired, I hit our last variation of our opening drill. Participants were instructed to toss the ball high up into the air and trap it on the bounce. The resulting noise from the sole to the ball to the turf was a loud pop, representing that of popping corn.

“Palomitas! Amigos… tienes que decir palomitas!” I said, making sure the drill was not to play out completely silent.

“PALOMITAS!” they yelled out, enthusiastically.

“Mas arriba!” I yelled out.

“Mas arriba!” they exclaimed, affirmatively.

With that out of the way, we broke into two passing lines to run the gamut of one-touch passes, two-touch passes, and passes with the weaker foot.

“Switch to your weak foot now, guys!” I commanded.

“Y yo profe? I’m ambidextrous,” said an Ousmane Dembele-esque chico.

“Pues, try kicking it with no feet then hermano,” I joked.

Full transparency, they really struggled with the one-touch drill. I let it run its course for a bit, but eventually had to screech it to a halt. Fortunately, I saw it as a learning opportunity.

“Bring it in guys, bring it in… let’s have a chat,” I said. “Tell me, what went wrong there? It was complicated. Why?”

“Pues, Profe, he would pass the ball too strong and I couldn’t control it without taking an additional touch,” said a young boy.

“Wait wait, we don’t need to use names guys, it was a challenging drill for all of us. So what’s the trick guys? What do we need to change next time?”

“Suavecito, Profe… if we all pass the ball gently, the drill will run smoothly,” an older boy said confidently and correctly – his teammates nodding in agreement.

From there, we broke into a volleying drill with partners moving backwards toward the top of the 18 before returning back to the endline. During said movement, they would hit volleys, half volleys, and headers. It was a success and the group was nice at it. Then, we transitioned over to our 1v1 drill.

A quick ten minute scrimmage later, I drew the class to a close with a little wrap-up chat with the boys. Despite wanting to keep the conversation going, there was no time to dilly-dally, as the next group was already sitting in the wing waiting patiently for Casa San Antonio to wrap up their session.

I surveyed the crowd and spotted a familiar face, their tutor. “I remember you!” he said. “Yo tambien!” I answered, giddy for a reunion.

“Okay ya, podemos empezar!” I yelled out. “Listo chicos, grupos de dos con una pelota en el centro,” I instructed.

“Y luego que estamos haciendo?” I asked, looking for audience participation.

“Pases?” said a boy.

“Noooo…,” I said, looking over at their tutor, Marco, to see if he remembered the drill.

Luckily, he did, and he was gracious enough to help run our listening exercise for a few rounds. After, we hit the same volley drill as earlier, before breaking into one-on-ones at goal. When I tell you, these kids were good but man, the porteros were even better.

“Que porterazo!” I called out, the kids chuckling at my exclamation.

Left and right, they were pulling out highlight reel-level saves. I was floored. I know they were enjoying the drill, but I wanted to give the keepers even more of a chance to shine.

“Guys, let’s bring in the lines, we’re gonna hit a shooting drill,” I commanded.

“Yes!” they called out.

I positioned myself at the top of the 18 as each line rolled the ball towards my feet. Following my layoff, they’d strike it at net. Every once in a while, I’d chip it up so that they could work on volleys and half volleys too. The goal here is simple, to practice striking a non-stationary ball. They were putting on a show. Shots were dinging in off the posts, keepers were parrying the ball over the bar, it was a spectacle! I was jealous.

“Hermano, can I have your ball? Switch with me, I want to have a go,” I said.

I rolled the ball to his feet and he popped it up waist-height. Then, I drove my laces through the ball and it rifled into the left side netting. That perfect kick that somehow lodges into the back corner of the goal, stuck behind the secondary back support. Todo tranquilo though, I turned back to my spot in the center and returned the favor to the little homie who assisted my goal.

Plenty of goals in the books, a young boy approached me. “Profe? Jugamos un partido? Futebol? (As they call it, an ode to Brazil)” he asked.

“Dale, chicos, fútbol!” I yelled out.

We separated into two teams, with myself and Marco deployed to each side.

As always, I didn’t want to score, just to get the boys involved. No lie, though, they required very little help. These dudes were nice!

My team went up 5-0 super quick. “Tamos cercas a 6….. 6, 7!” said my tall center back, standing at the same height as me.

With teams lopsided, I shot a glance at Marco and asked if we could switch sides up a bit. He deployed my star striker to the other team, but still, we had an ace on the wing.

Finally, the other team (thanks to my old star number 9) banged in their first goal. The scoreline was now 7-1. Of course, the program was only supposed to run til 11 but it was already 11:20.

“Last goal, Profe?” asked one of my teammates, aware of the situation.

“Last goal guys! Let’s make it count,” I yelled out.

“We’re back at 0-0,” I said to my team, making sure they knew the stakes were high and the old scoreline no longer mattered.

The game taking on a new level of tension, I collected the ball at midfield and hit a no-look to my star winger, who tidily deposited the ball into the top left corner.

I blew my whistle. “Ya! Ganamos!” I exclaimed.

“Thank you, Profe,” the boys said while approaching me at midfield.

“Great job today boys,” I responded.

These kids were great. I invited them to sit down as we chilled for a bit after a long program in the hot Peruvian sun. I asked them what they enjoyed about the session and if they learned anything of value.

“Profe, tienes una pluma? Quiero su firma,” one of my opponents, sitting in the crowd, said.

“Yo también! Quiero una foto contigo,” said my tall center back.

“Profe pasarme tu cuenta de Instagram, de la fundación!” said another teammate.

Luckily, we had plenty of bracelets to give out between the two colorways. As customary, I instructed the boys to help each other out to tie them around their wrists. As we were nearing the last of las pulseras, I decided to make a joke.

“Profe, tienes una de Peru?” asked a young buck.

“Si, pero las de Peru tiene un costo adicional. Solo 3 soles. Y aceptamos tarjeta,” I called out, with a hearty chuckle.

“Ay, Profe no!” the young man, sans dinero, cried out.

“Estoy bromeando hermano,” I said with a smile, wrapping a Peru-colored bracelet around his arm.

The boys were all quick to greet me with words of thanks, which quickly ended with them singing a song of gratitude. Afterwards, they topped it all off with a prayer. I was touched. I wrapped things up with an “en el nombre de padre, el hijo, y el espíritu santo. Amén!” The boys smiled, hip to my ball knowledge.

I was enjoying chatting with them, but I did have business to attend to. Why? At program’s close, we were set to give out una beca. It was the sixth edition of our Willy Garcia Memorial Scholarship. Plus, unbeknownst to me I would also be doing a little social media interview for the Ciudad team about my experience as a volunteer before heading back home to Magdalena. “Con gusto!” I said, hoping to do it in one take but knowing we’d likely need more. Nevertheless, I was happy to help out.

Luckily, plenty of jokes were made and Ciudad’s social team made me feel very comfortable in front of the camera. The interview closed out with a short volunteer testimonial on my part. Just talking about my experience this year and the years prior, too.

“So much has changed, but so much has stayed the same. Because at the heart of what Around the Worlds does, and at the heart of what Ciudad de los Ninos does – is the joy of the children. And that joy is there, that joy never left. From our first visit, to our second, third, and our fourth. It was always here. And that’s the beauty of football, right? El deporte siempre traerlos sonrisas.”

Without any further delay, it was time to finally award our scholarship to one of Ciudad’s finest. My contact, Madeley, escorted a young man in a brown Ciudad de los Ninos tee shirt my way. Paolo was his name. For those unfamiliar, Paolo first participated in our programming over three and a half years ago back in 2022. He was a short little guy back then, but he had a lightness about him and a smile bigger than his own face. With Madeley’s permission, I handed him over a certificate recognizing his achievement, along with an envelope carrying the scholarship cash, which was safeguarded by Ciudad’s team.

On top of that, I gave him a brand new soccer ball as well as his choice of a plum or grey Around the Worlds bag. Having given out this scholarship before, I joked with Madeley that, usually, the ball ends up meaning more to the kids than the scholarship money. After all, it’s something tangible that they can actually keep and use. I enjoyed the time spent in Paolo’s company. He still had that same smile, though he had grown significantly since our last session. I took the time to explain to him the significance of the scholarship, why we created it, why he was receiving it, and what we hoped it might be used for.

I told him about Willy’s story. How he participated in our programs back in Guatemala before his passing. How he was full of dreams and life. How, just like Paolo, he had a smile bigger than himself. It’s our way of honoring a boy who was very special, and had a lot of dreams. I like to think his dreams get to live on through the dreams of so many others. The significance of the situation was not lost upon him, as he nodded his head. I didn’t have too many questions, but I was curious about what Paolo’s dreams were, if any. He smiled that big ‘ol smile. As if he had been waiting all day for me to ask.

He was a sweet kid and the words, though unnecessary, were extremely thoughtful. I congratulated him once more, before bidding him farewell with a final handshake. I smiled at the white soccer ball in his hand. It suited him well, and if only he knew how many of his Ciudad compatriots were trying to get their hands on it!

“Bro, tu sabes how many people wanted that white ball? … muchas!”

He smiled.

“Yo dije no to all of them. I said that’s for my friend, Paolo,” I told him.

That smile only grew.

It was such a full day and I was more than ready to head home and rest my head before a late night flight. Of course, I couldn’t yet do so without an Uber ride back to Magdalena.

“You teach football?” asked my driver.

“Football like soccer or futbol americano?” he asked, needing context.

I chuckled. “Amigo tienes que mirar mi cuerpo!” We both shared a laugh.

Then, the conversation took a more sentimental turn. I told him how at the tail end of programming, I noticed something that caught my eye. It was a red Sondico-branded ball. Not just any red Sondico-branded ball, though. It was torn up and beat down, but it retained its shape. It had more character than most, and had seen its fair share of kicks through countless games on the court. It lived many lives across many years, intersecting with many lives in the process.

Because, as things would have it, that red Sondico-branded ball was gifted to Ciudad back in 2022 by Around the Worlds. Actually, it had been hand-delivered right at the end of Paolo’s first program with us. I couldn’t believe they still had it! What a feeling it was to see it after all this time.

To see that something was not just used, but appreciated. I was shocked, and couldn’t help but to bring it up to my Uber driver. He nodded his head, almost immediately understanding the situation. Luckily, I had him for context, too.

“Well, es un costumbre aquí that if someone gives you something valuable (shoes, a ball, etc.) you use it and keep using it for years and years. So, this does not surprise me that the kids there still had that same ball from three and a half years ago. It’s a very Peruvian thing, that,” he said, with a sense of country pride.

It all made sense, but still, I couldn’t shake the feeling. I was so touched by that.

The Sondico balls had almost all been swapped out. In this series of sessions, almost 40 new yellow FC Nantes balls were delivered. The last iteration had lasted nearly four years, and who knows how long these would last. One thing was for sure, if the last set taught me anything; they were all going to be used, appreciated, and cared for.

Hasta luego, Ciudad de los Niños. Hasta luego, Peru!