YOUTH VALLEY: REFLECTIONS FROM A YOUNG ADULT
The project started with a simple idea: finishing something we dreamed about with Darrin. My Comox Valley United girls’ soccer team was always bugging him about how cool it would be to have pink club jerseys. Darrin would laugh and acknowledge that, yes, that would look really good. Completing it felt like carrying forward a piece of him and giving us a final connection to someone who had shaped us.
For me, the project tied together my past, my team, my coach, and my growth as a leader. With my teammates, I created custom pink and white jerseys to honour Darrin McLeod, our coach, someone who meant a lot to us. He believed in this idea, and he believed in our team. It matters to all of us because 2026 is our final season together. Many of us have played side by side for years. These jerseys will be something we can keep long after the season ends—a reminder of our journey, our growth, and the people who supported us.
The colour pink connects to awareness of both breast cancer and bullying. It also connects deeply to my own story.
“It’s not just a colour—it represents survival, strength in the face of challenges, and standing up for people who feel different or alone”
When I was five years old, I was diagnosed with acute lymphoblastic leukemia (ALL), a form of cancer that grows in the blood and bone marrow. I went through years of treatment, and I lost all my hair. For a little kid, that was incredibly hard. I didn’t understand why something I couldn’t control made me a target for bullying. That experience shaped me. It taught me resilience, empathy, and the importance of awareness. It’s one of the reasons pink means so much to me. It’s not just a colour—it represents survival, strength in the face of challenges, and standing up for people who feel different or alone.
Darrin was the technical director and soccer coach at the Comox Valley United Soccer club. I met him in August 2023 when my family and I moved to the Valley. He passed away in April 2024. I quickly learned that Darrin was the kind of coach who really cared. He had this habit of calling everyone “Buddy.” It didn’t matter if you were having a great day or the worst practice ever—you were “Buddy.” And somehow, hearing him say it made you feel supported.
As for me, he never called me Hayley. Not once. He always called me Helen. I don’t even know where it came from, but it stuck. It became our thing. Every time he said it, it made me smile. It’s one of those small memories that stays with you long after someone is gone. That’s why finishing this project mattered so much. It wasn’t just about jerseys—it was about honouring someone who made a real impact on my life.
If only everyone could be lucky enough to have a buddy like Darrin in their lives. I know I was.
