Sunday was opening ceremony for the Montana Special Olympics Winter Games at Big Mountain, Montana. . . .
As my Australian odyssey as Wanderer, Ambassador, and Nomad comes to an end, people – new friends from along the road – repeatedly ask, “What comes next?” I really don’t know what the next opportunity will be. Until it arrives here is what I am thinking – what I am remembering as I exchange summer for winter . . .
The Olympic Games.
Sunday was opening ceremony for the Montana Special Olympics Winter Games at Big Mountain, Montana. While the athletes lined up the spectators were entertained with tunes from the Beach Boys. The athletes were presented during the ceremony of nations.
As always, it was an inspirational experience to have the athletes presented, each carrying a banner announcing the organization they represented. Each person had to negotiate a narrow stairway which ended on a steep, snowy slope before leveling out beneath Chair 2 where the ceremony occurred. Once the initial groups were presented the remaining athletic organizations were struggling up the stairs. The ceremony slowed to a crawl. With any ‘normal’ group when somebody was slowing progress down, there would be pushing, shoving, and heckling to get to the top. Not with this group. The more able were assisting the less able up the steps and across the icy slope. Nobody was left behind. If somebody needed a little extra help it was asked for. An impressive demonstration of camaraderie.
Once all 250 athletes, along with 100 or more coaches/volunteers, were in place the Big Mountain ski teams presented several skiing demonstrations, then a torch light parade down the slope followed by a procession skiing the United States and Montana state flag down the slope. A local Boy Scout troupe accepted the flags and called the ceremony to order.
One of the athletes then skied carefully down the hill carrying the Olympic torch to light the event torch.
A prayer was offered asking for God’s presence at the games.
Another athlete led the group in reciting the Special Olympic Pledge.
"Let me win, but if I cannot win, let me be brave in the attempt!"
Let the Games Begin!
. . . and the sky lit up with fireworks.
The athletes cheered.
I spent the week on the cross-country ski course. There were events seemingly as simple as a 10 metre sprint. For some this was an immense accomplishment.
Dean was one of the athletes racing in the 50 metre sprint. For 25 minutes the athletes cheered him as he moved towards the finish line. There were times when other coaches were unsure if he would make it but through determination he crossed the finish line. His grandmother and coach was there in front of him coaching and encouraging his every step. Was it unconditional love? Her patience was absolutely astounding. As the race progressed Dean’s confidence improved. His speed increased. He finished the race. He won a medal.
The next day Dean raced in the 100 metre finals!
Eddie was described by a reporter from the Missoula newspaper as a “Sixty-five year-old espresso bean talking so fast that I couldn’t keep up with my notes.” Eddie was determined to win three gold medals, “Just like last year.” He competed in the 50, 100 and 500 metre events. When he crossed the finish line the final time he enthusiastically announced, “My skis are retired. It is time to start training for the Summer Games. I’m ready to ride horses.”
Vanessa. She made me nervous – well not really. Every time I saw her she was staring at me. I couldn’t figure out why. She also competed in the 50, 100 and 500 metre events. On the longer races I was at the back of the course to support the athletes. Vanessa came over the rise at the halfway point and started down the incline towards the finish line. As she approached I watched a grin grow across her face. She stopped right in front of me, looked me in the eye and stated “Dumb and Dumber.” I was puzzled. Grinning she skied off towards the finish line with renewed enthusiasm. I was dumbfounded!
A few minutes later Rocky, one of the more mentally astute athletes came up to me. You really look like somebody. Vanessa thinks you were in Dumb and Dumber. Are you Jeff Daniels? Did you come all the way to the games for us? A star was at the games!
Duncan had a story for every person working the event. There was Cowboy and Batwoman, Blue-hat and Raphael, the list went on and on. I’m glad I wasn’t Raphael! J Yes, a story for everybody. Some were accomplices in robbing the bank, others were his mafia hit men and so forth and so on . . . Duncan was very sure on his feet when walking, but when the skis were lashed to his shoes he became very hesitant. He crept through the 50 metre event. Next was the qualifier for the100 metre event. Just before the halfway point there was a corner with a moderate downhill run. He came around the corner and his skis started slipping. He was petrified -- frozen in place but determined to finish. Without warning his skis did what skis do best -- started sliding. He was off, out of control and tearing through the barrier at the edge of the track. Devastated and frightened he crashed to the ground. With encouragement he untangled himself from the fence and with pride, crossed the finish line.
His next event was the 500 metre qualifier. He wasn’t about to miss it. He moved around the course very well, suddenly finding himself at the top of his worst obstacle -- the hill! He didn’t move. He cried out for help. He wanted somebody’s hand to support him, but he was to be on his own. He knew this. We all knew he hadn’t been offered a challenge he would not be able to handle. His coach was there to work him through. We were all cheering and encouraging him. One of the volunteers on the sideline could be heard saying, “Why isn’t somebody helping him?” Finally, he could take it no longer, walked out to the course and before anybody realized what was about to happen took hold of Duncan and assisted him down the hill. At the bottom of the hill Duncan suddenly stopped, his enthusiasm gone. “I am disqualified. Somebody helped me while I was racing.” Nobody -- Duncan, the volunteer or the race staff could believe what had transpired.
Hills terrified Duncan after these two experiences. He had two more heats to go. On his second to last event he crested the hill at the back of the race then slowly and carefully started down. His fears were beating him. Raphael the mutant ninja turtle from the “sewa system” – he chuckled – was in his pocket to help him through. But Duncan was sure Raphael had started telling him he was going to fall, that he couldn’t finish the race. Duncan became very concerned. Talking with Duncan I finally convinced him that Raphael was just worried that Duncan would not make it to the finish line. If he made it to the finish line Raphael would be very proud. Duncan thought about this. His drive to finish came back. He got to the top of the killer hill, “Raphael I can do this,” and he started slowly and cautiously down the hill. Every time the skis started sliding we reminded him to use his poles. He crossed the finish line and started hi-fiving everybody. Without warning Duncan stopped, reached into his pocket and pulled out Raphael. Looking Raphael straight in the eye, “I told you I could do it. I did it!”
Jeff was another athlete. For three days I had not heard him say anything. He responded whenever I talked to him but would not talk. On the first day he competed in the 100 metre event. There was the unmanageable hill to negotiate. Jeff got to the hill and struggled to keep his skis under control. It was obvious the skis had no intention of doing as Jeff intended they should. One was going right, the other left. Suddenly I could see his attitude change. A smile snuck in from the corners of his mouth. Without bending his knees, he folded at his waist, grabbed onto the tips of his skis and forcefully guided them into place. Instantly he took off, butt pointing sky-ward but with impeccable control he sped across the finish line. The crowd roared with applause. The ski-tip grab became his standard technique to maintain control in future events.
Jeff, Rocky and Duncan were competing in the final heat of the day. The gold medal 500 metre.
Rocky was in his own league, finishing the race before Duncan or Jeff were even ¼ of the way around the track. Jeff was doing amazingly well with a 75 metre lead over Duncan. As Jeff came over the rise at the back of the course the sun came out. His feet started pumping frantically, but he wasn’t moving.
“Suuunnngg. . .Bloooo” I couldn’t figure it out.
“Suuuuunnngg. . . Booooo.”
With his feet pumping, he finally pointed up, “Suuunnnnggg. . . .Booooo . . . Bloooo.”
He was ecstatic. The sun was shining. There was blue sky!
In the mean time Duncan crested the hill, all the while talking to himself about Catwoman and Cowboy, Raphael and the mutant ninja turtles, and skied past the celebrating Jeff. What did it matter, the sun was shining.
“Jeff, the blue line, do you remember the blue line?”
“Yessszz”
“Finsch”
He managed to change the motion of his still pumping feet and start moving forward – towards the finish line.
Jeff rounded the final corner with the hill to the finish line. He skied up to the finish line then started frantically pumping his feet to cross but he couldn’t get cross it.
“Blooooo . . . . Zzzuuunnnngg”
He repeatedly pointed to the sky and then the blue line. For the longest time he just couldn’t move. He worked his feet harder and harder, then, suddenly, with speed we had never seen from Jeff, he crossed the finish line and, in his enthusiasm, started around again.
We brought him back and with the help of Smokey Bear, awarded him his gold medal.
The whole event fully demonstrated the Special Olympian’s Pledge.
"Let me win, but if I cannot win, let me be brave in the attempt!"
I am sure everybody who was cross-country skiing, downhill skiing, snowshoeing, snowboarding and sliding all won, even those who did not receive a medal or ribbon. Not only did the Olympian’s win, so did the volunteers. Many volunteers do this year after year, even coming from New York for the week of Olympics just because they find it to be such an enriching experience.
As Jeff’s medal was being awarded, I suddenly had the urge to leave, to walk to the Outpost. I could not resist.
I left the award ceremony and walked down the hill. As I arrived at the door I overheard a conversation.
“Did you say your name is Jack?” I looked back and saw a very frightened boy trying not to talk to a strange man.
“I know that name.”
“Why do I know that name?”
I paused and went in, but Jack kept going through my mind. Jack . . . Jack . . . Jack.
“That is Jack – Jack from church!” I turned around.
My heart sank.
“Jack was gone!”
Frantically looking around I finally caught the eye of Jack in the cafeteria. He was being carried around to see if his Mum was there.
He was stoic – expressionless, not a tear.
When Jack saw me he pointed, but wouldn’t say anything. The man walked over and said, “Do you know this boy?”
I asked, “Are you Jack?”
Hesitantly, he nodded his head, “Yes.”
“Do you know me from church?”
Again, he nodded.
“Is your mother Kay?”
He smiled and nodded again.
While nodding his head he started squirming, but still wouldn’t say anything. We were in the rental shop and the man couldn’t hold Jack any longer. Putting him down, Jack came over and stood right beside me and started talking. The rental shop attendants called security to try and find the boy’s mother.
Jack finally asked, “Will you stay with me. I was racing with my class. When I got to the bottom of the hill I couldn’t find them. I’m sure my instructor called me but I just didn’t hear him. My instructor must have left without me.” My angel took care of me.
Jack and I sat talking in the ski shop until Terry from security arrived. At the same time Al, his ski instructor walked in. Jack immediately smiled. A very worried looking instructor relaxed.
“It was all my fault. Now all I have to do is face his mother. I hope she is not too angry.”
And that was my week.
Written in March
