HUMANS OF HEARTS: ‘Coach’ PJ Singh
“At its best, the game has always been about people.”
Humans of Hearts is a series about members of the Hearts community shaping life in Maine. These voices offer a glimpse into the lives that inspire and connect us across this state we call home.
Photograph: Nicole Wolf
On a bitter March night, under the stadium lights at Lewiston High School, PJ Singh sat bundled in the stands beside one of his mentees. The cold was sharp, the sky heavy and dark. Voices rose from the crowd as Hearts of Pine took the field in the U.S. Open Cup.
It was the boy beside him—quiet, unsure—who made the night unforgettable.
“We were just sitting there, watching,” PJ recalled. “And then he turned to me and said, Do you think maybe… that could be me one day?’“
Hearts won 4–0 that night. But for PJ, the real victory was what that question represented.
“That’s what this game gives, a flicker of belief. It opens doors and it changes lives. Just like it changed mine.”
Photograph: Lauryn Hottinger
Known to many as ‘Coach,’ PJ Singh carries that title as more than one in sport—it’s a role he lives by.
“I tell every kid, your coach today is your coach forever,” he said. “Because coaching is humbling—it’s a responsibility to be a mentor. To be more than someone who just shows up on the pitch. That’s why I coach: to give back, to build community.”
PJ arrived in Maine at 17, alone and wide-eyed, leaving behind a childhood shaped by three continents and forever marked by the global rhythm of the game.
“The game made me feel whole,” he said. “I’ve never fit in just one box—but I always belonged on the field.”
“I’m Indian by heritage, African by experience, and American by journey,” he continued. “I often call myself a child of the earth.”
“But the game?” he said. “It didn’t ask questions. It just let me be who I am.”
He remembers what it felt like at first—crossing oceans, stepping into a new world. The hush of small towns. The weight of winter, and the absence of faces that looked like his. PJ’s decision to come to Maine wasn’t in spite of these things, it was because of them.
“I didn’t want to go somewhere where everyone looked like me,” he said. “I wanted to share my culture. And I wanted to learn from others.”
Photograph: Nicole Wolf
He attended the University of Maine at Machias, where PJ joined the men’s soccer team—a diverse and highly successful group of players who spoke 17 languages, coming from across the United States and around the world, united by a common goal.
“We played for each other, that was it. And we understood each other, so that was the real secret to our success.”
Days into his first season in September of 2001, the attacks on 9/11 changed everything for a young Sikh man living in Maine. Fear and suspicion crept in, and PJ felt it.
“There were stares. People said things. And it hurt,” he remembered. “But my teammates and coaches stood by me. They became family. That shaped me—for life.”
Today, that same spirit now drives his work at the University of Southern Maine, where he supports international admissions and coaches the women’s soccer team. He also coaches for Maine Lightning, the Olympic Development Program, and mentors players statewide.
“I’ll drive them to practice, sit with them through college applications, and be there for the hard stuff, because that’s what family does,” he said.
He recalls one player in particular, a teenager who hated school, struggled with grades, and couldn’t imagine a future beyond the next day.
“With time, consistency, and care, things began to shift,” PJ said. “His grades improved, his outlook changed, and college started to feel like something within reach—not just to keep playing soccer, but as a way to build a future.”
That ripple effect, PJ said, is why he stays in the game.
“That identity of togetherness—it’s catching on. Parents are getting involved. Teammates are starting to care in new ways. The culture is changing.”
Moments like that keep him going.
“We’re not just building players. We’re building people who show up—for themselves and each other.”
Photograph: Nicole Wolf
PJ first heard about Hearts through Gabe Hoffman-Johnson back in the early days, when it was still just a vision.
“Gabe was telling me about this new pro club he was trying to start in Portland,” PJ said. “I was curious, so when the club launched, I brought a few of my soccer guys to a match.”
What PJ experienced that first matchday stuck with him.
“There were drums. Flags. People cheering in different languages. My players looked at me like, Coach—we have to be a part of this,” he said.
The atmosphere reminded him of home—not just India, or Ghana, or even Maine, but the idea of home. Belonging. A place where soccer means more than goals or wins.
“It was the first time I saw something like that here,” he said. “This is what we’ve been missing in Maine. Something we can give kids to believe in.”
Since then, PJ has become a regular in the stands at Hearts matches. “I don’t go for the spectacle,” he said. “I go because of the way it makes me feel.”
Coach PJ’s influence has begun to stretch from the training field to the professional game. He recalls coaching Khalid Hersi, helping him through the college process.
“Today, Khalid plays for Hearts,” PJ said. “That matters. It shows kids they can grow up in Maine and dream big. That they can do it here.”
“When I look out at Fitzpatrick Stadium, I see players from Trinidad, England, Australia, Nigeria,” he said. “That field reflects what Maine actually looks like—layered, diverse. For the first time, it feels like we all belong.”
As a Sikh man in a state where few share his faith, PJ doesn’t take that lightly.
“My identity is unique in Maine,” he said. “But Hearts have helped amplify it. It shows that soccer and culture can coexist. And should.”
“My sons are native Mainers, and I’ve noticed they stand a little taller when they wear their Hearts jerseys—because Hearts is Maine’s team,” said PJ.
“They’ll keep growing up here knowing their identities are layered too. That there’s beauty in what makes us different—and belonging lives right there, at the heart of it,” he said.
If you ask PJ about himself he’ll often redirect the conversation—toward a player, a team, a future not yet written. But beneath that humility is a man who’s carved out something extraordinary: a life in which sport is not the destination, but the bridge.
“Soccer gave me everything,” he said. “And it’s still giving.”
Photograph: Lauryn Hottinger
Do you know someone connected to soccer who’s making a difference in the Maine community?
We’d love to hear about them! With their permission, send us their name, contact information, and a few words about the impact they’re making. Drop us a note below.
Contact us here at info@heartsofpine.com attn: Christina Ferragamo, Humans of Hearts.