Oftentimes people donate a toy, or a few dollars, or even the gift of time, and wonder if it really made a difference.

On the soccer fields in Clarence these days, there is a 9-year-old boy named Eyob, who is a joy to watch play as he gracefully kicks a soccer ball around his defenders. He is living proof that such gifts can make a very big difference.

Eyob and his younger sister were living in an Ethiopian orphanage when a Clarence couple with very big hearts, and five kids already, adopted them. They are busy now trying to adopt his 16- year-old sister, as well.

My guess is that young Eyob witnessed more pain and suffering in Ethiopia than many of us will see in our lifetimes. He was placed in the orphanage after his parents died, and spent a year there. A very long year, I would imagine.

Eyob participated in a soccer league within orphanages, created by an American teenager. Soccer balls are hard to come by in Ethiopian orphanages, and when Eyob was not playing in a league game, any ball, or anything that might resemble a ball, would suffice.

His transition to America — a country he didn’t know, with a family he didn’t know — had to be enormous. Upon arrival, he was greeted with warm smiles. And with a new soccer ball, a gift from a college soccer player who attends church with his family.

Eyob’s mesmerizing footwork is intricate, exquisite and effective, and while watching him, you get the feeling he has spent his entire life kicking a soccer ball around. Initially, I assumed his skills were the result of keeping the ball from siblings — noting that he had a lot of them—as I watched him weave in and out of the defenders. I didn’t know that on most days of his life, he hadn’t even had access to a ball.

Eyob’s dad stepped up to coach his son and daughter Rosie’s team this season, when the Clarence Soccer League was short on head coaches. My son Griffin was placed on their team. Eyob’s father is a nice coach, the kind who should coach kids’ sports. The kind, I guess, who should adopt kids.

When the score gets too high, he stops the kids from shooting goals, and has the players pass the ball around amongst each other. The fun begins when the ball gets to Eyob, and he passes it in and around defenders, sometimes sending the ball between their legs, catching up with it on the other side.

To say I know Eyob well would be incorrect. Rather, I admire him, and his parents. I can’t even tell you how much English he speaks, but as he passes the soccer ball to my son, he yells “Griffin!” as clear as day. It is heartwarming.

The soccer fields of Clarence — where the concession stands have granite counter tops—are a world away from Ethiopia. But this child’s situation has obviously been made easier because people cared, and someone gave him a new soccer ball of his very own.

His life is better, and not because he will go pro — although I would love to see that! — but because when he was handed a soccer ball, he was handed self-esteem. A passion. Acceptance.

Indeed, Eyob is very much at home when he runs down the soccer fields in Clarence, and without saying a word, he speaks a universal language. It is one that is heard, understood and respected.

And his smile? It is very wide, and lights up the faces of the spectators, and sometimes, I swear, the sky, from here to Ethiopia.