A new kind of hero
As a lifelong sports fan, I’ve had my share of heroes.
Last week, I found a new one.
Maybe you heard about Jason McElwain, the kid who scored 20 points in a New York State high school game.
The autistic kid who served as team manager and came in and hit six threes in the last 4:19 of a game and was then hoisted up on the shoulders of his classmates.
I saw it in passing Thursday afternoon at lunch in Raleigh, thought about it all weekend and then decided to write about it Sunday night.
You see, my 4-year-old son Ethan is autistic. To you, autism is just a word. Maybe you think about Dustin Hoffman in “Rain Man.”
Don’t feel bad. Five years ago, I didn’t know either.
Now I know that it means a lot of things. It means he isn’t potty trained yet. It means he would rather play alone than with other kids. It means most of his talking comes from repeating what others say, or “echolalia” as the textbooks say. It means having my heart ripped out when people stare at him when he throws a tantrum.
And as his father, I’ve spent a lot of time wondering if I will ever get to share my love of sports with my son. I wondered if he can go to a normal school, have normal friends or a normal life.
I’M NOT wondering anymore.Jason didn’t talk until he was five, but he attends Greece Athena High School, serving as team manager for the Trojans’ basketball team. That is, until his coach, Jim Johnson, made a hero out of him.
I should have known that my peace of mind could be bolstered by sports. The “6th man” student section at Greece Athena printed up pictures of Jason, just in case he got to play. They cheered and jumped up and down with enough intensity to shake the home video you might have seen on ESPN.And they laughed with him, hugged him and carried him off the court.
They didn’t treat him like Jason McElwain, the autistic kid. He’s “J-MAC” to them, a kid who’s going to graduate and go to community college next year.
HE’S A kid who stands all of 5-6 with an awkward looking jump shot that scored the most points for the Trojans on Senior Night in his first and only high school game.
I’m not much of a crier, but I’ve shed a tear or two over this story. It taught me to look at my son for who he is, rather than for the label he carries.
He’s sweet, he loves to wrestle with me and he already plays the guitar and keyboard better than I do. He tells me he loves me and I can get a hug anytime I want one.
A lot of parents with autistic children would kill to be able to write any of that.
I don’t know what the future holds for my little boy, but I do know this. I don’t care anymore if he grows up to be like Mike.
I’d much rather see him end up like Jason.
Last week, I found a new one.
Maybe you heard about Jason McElwain, the kid who scored 20 points in a New York State high school game.
The autistic kid who served as team manager and came in and hit six threes in the last 4:19 of a game and was then hoisted up on the shoulders of his classmates.
I saw it in passing Thursday afternoon at lunch in Raleigh, thought about it all weekend and then decided to write about it Sunday night.
You see, my 4-year-old son Ethan is autistic. To you, autism is just a word. Maybe you think about Dustin Hoffman in “Rain Man.”
Don’t feel bad. Five years ago, I didn’t know either.
Now I know that it means a lot of things. It means he isn’t potty trained yet. It means he would rather play alone than with other kids. It means most of his talking comes from repeating what others say, or “echolalia” as the textbooks say. It means having my heart ripped out when people stare at him when he throws a tantrum.
And as his father, I’ve spent a lot of time wondering if I will ever get to share my love of sports with my son. I wondered if he can go to a normal school, have normal friends or a normal life.
I’M NOT wondering anymore.Jason didn’t talk until he was five, but he attends Greece Athena High School, serving as team manager for the Trojans’ basketball team. That is, until his coach, Jim Johnson, made a hero out of him.
I should have known that my peace of mind could be bolstered by sports. The “6th man” student section at Greece Athena printed up pictures of Jason, just in case he got to play. They cheered and jumped up and down with enough intensity to shake the home video you might have seen on ESPN.And they laughed with him, hugged him and carried him off the court.
They didn’t treat him like Jason McElwain, the autistic kid. He’s “J-MAC” to them, a kid who’s going to graduate and go to community college next year.
HE’S A kid who stands all of 5-6 with an awkward looking jump shot that scored the most points for the Trojans on Senior Night in his first and only high school game.
I’m not much of a crier, but I’ve shed a tear or two over this story. It taught me to look at my son for who he is, rather than for the label he carries.
He’s sweet, he loves to wrestle with me and he already plays the guitar and keyboard better than I do. He tells me he loves me and I can get a hug anytime I want one.
A lot of parents with autistic children would kill to be able to write any of that.
I don’t know what the future holds for my little boy, but I do know this. I don’t care anymore if he grows up to be like Mike.
I’d much rather see him end up like Jason.