I was taken by surprise when I received an email inviting me to coach Myanmar’s women’s hockey team for the 27th SEA Games in Yangon. From my earlier experience in the country, I knew one thing—there were no established women hockey players. Curious, I replied to ask if such a team even existed. The response was immediate: there were many girls in training, eager to learn.
Though hesitant at first, I accepted the challenge, encouraged by a friend, and arrived in Yangon with a simple intention—to learn as much as I would teach.
What greeted me at the training ground was a stark reality. The players lacked basic skills, pace, and confidence, both on and off the ball. With just seven months to prepare, the task ahead was daunting. We began with the fundamentals—hitting, slap hitting, and pushing—while building fitness through weekly runs around Kandawgyi Lake.
But skill development alone would not be enough. When I spoke to the players, most of whom came from farming backgrounds, their motivation was simple: they wanted to be part of the SEA Games, a historic occasion for Myanmar. There was no talk of medals or victory—only participation.
That was the moment I knew we had to redefine our purpose.
I introduced a program called “A Beautiful Journey to the SEA Games.” Every effort was celebrated—a beautiful pass, a beautiful shot, a beautiful attempt. Training became a space of joy, learning, and belief. Slowly but surely, the transformation began. Within three months, the improvement in their skill, speed, and confidence was remarkable.
A crucial turning point came during a 40-day training and competition stint in Bangkok at the Asian Challenge Cup. Facing stronger opponents, we endured heavy defeats. Yet, the experience proved invaluable. It tested our resilience and exposed the challenges of communication, especially across language barriers.
For a foreign coach, mastering the local language is a vital asset. Communication is not just about words—it carries tone, emotion, and intent. These nuances are often lost through translation, making it harder to build genuine connection with players.
Upon returning to Myanmar, preparations intensified. A structured 12-week training- matches against men’s teams, and focused work on penalty corner defence strengthened the squad. By the time the SEA Games began, the team was no longer just participating—they were competing.
With little external pressure, the players embraced the tournament with freedom and determination. After a challenging group stage, they advanced to the bronze medal match against Singapore.
Backed by a passionate home crowd, the team delivered a disciplined and spirited performance to secure a historic 1–0 victory. As the final whistle blew, the stadium erupted, and fans poured onto the pitch in celebration.
At the medal ceremony, I stood quietly, overwhelmed. True to my promise, I stayed to witness that moment. As the players received their medals, tears of joy flowed freely—not just for the victory, but for the journey that brought them there.
From a group of beginners to SEA Games bronze medalists in just seven months, their achievement was extraordinary.
More than medals and matches, these young women taught me the true meaning of resilience, self-belief, and dignity.
It was, in every sense, a beautiful journey.
Thank You

