THE HOME OF THE BRAVE

Jacob took the eight pound metal ball from my hand, concentrated with all his might and flung it...backwards and over his right shoulder where it thudded to the dirt about four feet from where he stood. One of the first Special Olympians I was helping supervise had just completed his initial attempt at the shotput.

Part of the Special Olympics motto goes something like this; "Let me win, but if I cannot win then at least let me be brave in the attempt". For the second year in a row I got to witness tremendous bravery, innocence and above all...unbridled joy and enthusiasm during this wind blown, chilly day on a local high school football field. Once we got Jacob facing the right way, he made two more throws that were ten times farther than his first attempt and I think he was excited but its hard to tell sometimes with special needs "students".

Another contestant was led over by her teacher, Michael. Unable to walk on her own without a steadying hand to guide her, "Helen" shuffled into the small circle to attempt a throw. Of undetermined age, skinny as a rail and wobbling badly, I wasn't sure if she would even be able to hold onto the six pound shot. Michael held her steady as we placed the small grey sphere into Helen's gnarled hand.

"Alright Helen, lift her up and let it fly!!!" Michael yelled.

Surprisingly, she lifted her arm up shoulder high, stepped six inches forward while gripping tightly to her instructor's elbow and heaved mightily. The shot landed perhaps two and a half feet away. A loud chorus of cheering filled the air.

Helen giggled excitedly behind her darkened sun glasses and beneath her floppy hat. It suddenly occured to me that she either couldn't see at all or was at least extremely visually impaired and we enthusiastically cheered again as she completed her next two tosses. Brave in the attempt indeed.

Later on as I tried to assist my wife at the "prize table" (face painting, sand sculpures in tiny empty coke bottles, and assorted other crafts), we watched some of the Olympians groove to the music provided by a guitar strumming musician. As he launched into a rousing rendition of "Little Red Riding Hood" an eerie echo of loud wolf-like howling filled the air beneath the bleachers everytime he reached the chorus.

A young man in a black windbreaker rested his fingers on the blonde wooden surface of the guitar players instrument. His mother who had been searching for him after he had wandered away from her exclaimed, "There you are Jimmie! I knew I would find you wherever the music was!" Jimmy's mom explained to us that he loved to put his hands on the guitar so he could feel the vibration of the guitar's strings as it was being played. Doing this was his way of rocking out.

As a final memory on this most excellent of days, we listened to loud and enthusiastic cheering as contestants were awarded their ribbons. Not saying a word, a heavy-set young man wearing a bright colored Nascar racing hat, smiled a secret smile as he approached my wife and I. Slowly unzipping his jacket, he revealed to us the red second-place ribbon he had just won. The proud look that spread a mile wide across his beard stubbled face said more than any amount of words could as he slowly wandered off to show others his prize. To my delight and that of the crowd, "Helen" also won a ribbon but then again, I think that probably everyone did.

In this age of budget cuts, downsizing and a lack of funding for projects like the Special Olympics, I can only hope that activities such as this track meet continue to be held on a regular basis. My wife and I so much treasure the memory of this wonderful day and I cannot begin to imagine how much it meant to these special, special "competitors".

You were extremely brave dear athletes and God willing, I sincerely hope to see all of your joyful, smiling faces again, year after year after year. Winning is definitely not...everything.