Something exciting is going on inside. I hear the sound of joyful voices spilling out of the stadium as I make my way inside Yale Bowl. The 62,000 seats are full, as spectators from around the world prepare to watch Opening Ceremonies for the 1995 Special Olympics World Games. I tell myself I won't be suprised about what's going on, but I'm eager to find out.
After months preparing for this moment as a member of the Games' staff during leave-terms last spring and summer, I imagine myself immune to the magnitude of the event itself. Instead, I'm overwhelmed by the scene before me.
Emerging from the darkness, I face a sight of such unbridled joy as I have never seen. Seven thousand athletes, singing, dancing and waving signs identifying their delegations, form a colorful mosaic; each country trying to cheer louder than the next. The athletes from India are swaying as they sing a national song. In the opposite corner, the Irish answer with a chant of their own. Soon the stadium is alive with voices of athletes with mental retardation screaming their joy on the eve of Olympic competition.
Standing with others who worked to make the Games a reality, I stare in disbelief and wipe away tears. Suddenly, I'm not sure where it starts; perhaps with the boisterous delegation from Barbados, but soon it's obvious that this disparate collection of athletes is starting the wave. In time the motion comes full-circle as athletes throw their arms in the air in a giddy display of joy and purity of spirit. This is only the beginning of the week's events.
While this is perhaps my most vivid memory, no one moment can truly capture the spirit of the Special Olympics during July of 1995. Be it a girl without arms winning gold in a swimming sprint or the final marathoner crossing the finish, people with mental retardation demonstrated to a global audience their courage and hard-won skills. Like all athletes, participants faced physical challenges and elite competition; achieving personal goals through drive and extreme effort. It was their differences, however, that awoke the world to the true scope of their accomplishments.
In a recent conversation, a well-intentioned friend of mine expressed the opinion that at the Special Olympics, "everyone gets something just for showing up." For this friend, and others who have yet to attend a Special Olympics event, the implication was that "special" competitions, unlike the much-hyped Superbowl or modern Olympics, were not actually "real."
From my involvement with this movement dedicated to enhancing the lives of those for whom success was neither predicted, nor hoped, I believe the opposite to be true. By giving one's best to any challenge, the Special Olympics' goal comes closer to that of perhaps the most "real" competition of all, life itself. More than the heralded plays of a seven-footer effortlessly dunking a basketball into an eye-level hoop, making it to the starting line alone signifies the greatest personal triumph for many Special Olympians. For as it is stated in the athletes' oath, "bravery in the attempt" at winning is the value most honored with every bead of hard-earned sweat.
It is in this respect that the Special Olympics comes close to the heroic spirit of ancient Olympus. To do one's best in the pursuit of excellence, the Greeks explained, wins more than the mere laurel prize. It verifies the divine spark glowing in our individual handfuls of mortal dust and stands as the best hope for human civilization.
Working with athletes' families, I heard first-hand how athletic training affected their lives; building self-confidence that spilled into every attempt. Whether landing a somersault or scoring a goal, athletes' charisma and strength of motivation not only illuminated their own lives, but galvanized a volunteer force of 60,000, taught acceptance of what is given rather than anticipated and brought out the best in all who beheld their achievements.
Creating much more than solely an "Olympic village," the impact of their unconditional love, vigorous competition and mutual respect despite innumerable differences is to envision what Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. once called "the beloved community of human accomplishment." Proving courage still counts in shaping outcomes, these Games brought the world unparalleled optimism as can be seen only in the eyes of those who conquered the impossible.
