Summer Special Olympics 1990

We got on the bus at our Yuba City headquarters in July 1990. As assistant coach of the volleyball team, I would ride down to the University of California of Los Angeles with the twenty participants on the “C” team on a bus with comfortable seating and air conditioning. For many of the athletes, this would be their first trip to Los Angeles.  The C-team was made up of special athletes who were considered “low functioning” since some of them were unable to speak and could only make sounds that served as verbal communication.  

I had been the assistant volleyball coach for almost a year and after working with them, I had come to know many of the athletes and their “language” they used for verbal communication.  We had sixteen athletes on the C-Team, six women and ten men ages 15 to 44.  

There was a lot of chatter as we rolled along on Interstate 5.  

“Coach, do you know where we are going?” One of the athletes asked.

“South to Los Angeles, " I answered.

“Los Angeles, holy cow.” He gasped. 

“They got movie stars there, don’t they?” Another piped up.

“They sure do.” I laughed.

“I have to go to the bathroom.” He acknowledged after thinking about the movie stars.

“In the back.” I pointed, “Do you need some help?”

“No, I got this.” He began walking to the back where the porta-potty was located.

“Thank God.” I thought to myself, because I was told some of the athletes were not fully capable of taking care of this at times.  

“Always best to ask.” Gene the coach told me at the last meeting when we officially accepted the offer to attend the Summer Games.  I did as I was told.  So far so good.  The six women athletes were all capable, I was informed, so we did not need a female attendant.  I was also briefed that there would be volunteers at the games to help out.

“Hey coach, you’re in the Air Force?” Another athlete called out.

“That is correct.” I answered.

“Do you fly the planes?” He asked. 

“No, I am ground support.” I answered.  

“Ground support?” He pondered this for a moment. 

“Ronnie might need some attention when we pass Tracy.” Coach Gene Meyers whispered into my ears.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“His father and mother live in Tracy.” Gene replied, “He knows that, but they don’t want nothing to do with him since he’s not right.” 

Not right?  Ronnie communicated with bird sounds like chirps, but he was the tallest athlete who we taught to stand at the net with his hands extended.  Despite his inability to use formal language, he could make himself understood under most circumstances. When I looked over, I saw him staring out the window, mouth open as he sat alone in one of the bus seats.  I wandered over and sat next to him.  He was drooling, but he flashed a smile to let me know he was happy to see me.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“Aggghhh mmmmpppttt.” He answered as his drool ran freely down his face.  He was clearly upset. He knew his mom and dad lived in Tracy.  He jammed his finger into the window and his head swung wildly.

“It’s okay.” I told him, but I was lying.  It wasn’t okay.  “Are you excited about the game?” 

Getting his mind off of the fact he missed his family, was my main aim

“Yaaaacccckkkkk.” He nodded.

“We have a few hours before we get there.” I put my hands on the seat in front of me.

“How many hours?” A question came from one of the female athletes.

“Four hours.” Coach Meyers answered.

“This is so boring.” She whined.

“Take a nap.” Coach Meyers remarked as he slid his ball cap over his eyes in an attempt to take his own advice.  Two athletes began to play cards, but both of them began cheating horribly.

“That’s not the way.” One of the onlookers remarked.

“Ain’t so.” One of the players snapped indignantly.

“Settle down.” Coach Meyers instructed them.

It was quiet for about two minutes and then as if someone waved a flag, conversations broke out everywhere.

“They are excited.” Coach Meyers said as I sat in the empty seat across from him. “Is this your first time?” 

“At UCLA?” 

“Yeah.” 

“It is.” I confessed.

“It’s quite a challenge.” Meyers laughed, “You have to make sure you know where the sixteen are at all times which is why I have these bright red baseball caps.” 

He held one up.  They were certainly bright red beacons.

“You’ll do just fine.” He lay back and closed his eyes.  He had four young children of his own and was used to constant chaos.  I did not have children.  I lived in the barracks where you could shut the door if there was chaos.  Taking a trip with the sixteen was as close to chaos as I wanted to be.

I heard some commotion in the back of the bus and with Coach Meyers taking a much-needed nap, I got up to see what it was about.

The campus of the University of California Los Angeles was a sprawling behemoth of a college campus with plenty of places to get lost.  Exiting the bus after our five-hour trip, some of the energy had been drained, but I knew after a good night sleep in the student dormitories, the energy would be back.  

We would first go to the dorms with our bags and claim our racks.

“We get private rooms.” Coach Meyers informed me.

“Great.” I was happy to hear this since I felt like I was ready to drop at any moment.

“Dinner is the dining facility at six.” Coach Meyers looked at his watch, “Which is in twenty minutes. It’s down on the first floor.  We have to make sure the athletes each have a bracelet which is their ticket for meals.  Here’s yours.” 

“Thank you.” I nodded as I put it on my wrist.  

The next twenty minutes I helped the athletes put on their bracelets as Coach Meyers plopped a red cap on each of them.

“I don’t like this.” One of the female athletes complained. “It messes up my hair.” 

“Tough, Melissa.” Coach Meyer grunted as he plopped another cap on an athlete. “Ronnie, you have to wear this.” 

“Arrrkkkkk whissssssuuuuueee.” He chirped as coach adjusted the cap.

“Wherever you go, you have to have this cap on, alright?” Coach looked into his eyes.

“Ahhhhhh kaaarrrrpppp.” He answered. 

“Good enough.” Coach went to find a hatless athlete.

We went to the dining hall to eat a very nutritious meal as I sat with the athletes and Coach Meyer.

“Tonight is the opening ceremonies.  We will go to the main track.” He used a toothpick. “We have to keep track of them.  There will be quite a few Special Olympic groups from all over the state.  Rafer Johnson will be there.”

“Are you kidding me?” I thought to myself, the man who won the decathlon in the 1960 Olympics in Mexico City where a young boxer named Cassius Clay raised the American Flag in his hand as a reminder of the racial injustice most black Americans were going through at that time.  

The track stadium was immense.  From our vantage point,  the podium the great athlete Rafer Johnson appeared like one of the Star Wars action figures some of the athletes brought with them.  The famous gold medal athlete spoke about what it takes to become a champion with determination and dedication, but I knew that most of our athletes were more interested in the variety of bugs  that seemed to be everywhere. Sometimes the words of a man who has been on the Olympic podium are lost in a moment when other distractions seem to have a more immediate appeal.  

By the time we got back to the dormitories, I fell onto my mattress and was asleep as my heat hit the pillow.

Our first match was with a group from Santa Barbara.  We had to be ready for breakfast at 7:30 am and on the court by 9:00.

“It’s too early.” Malissa complained when one of the aides knocked on her door. Emerging from her room, she looked as if she could use a few more hours of sleep, but we were all present from breakfast.

“We will warm up after breakfast.” Coach Meyers announced with coach-like authority. “And then we will put the six on the court.  We will rotate the rest of you during the match.”

Good plan, but as it turned out we had to get the extra athletes off the court so there would be only six players which is the correct number of players allowed to be on the court.  

The group from Santa Barbara seemed a bit higher in ability than our C-team.

“Ronnie, keep your hands up when you are at the net.” I yelled to him as he stood there with his hands at his side.  There were some bird noises, but the ball was in play.  

One to zero, Santa Barbara.  Things would not get any better as we lost the first match 25 to zero.  We managed to score a few more points in a 25 to 4 washout.  By the final game of the match, everyone was exhausted, and our opponents shut us out again 25 to zero.  

We left the auditorium defeated, but not discouraged.  Each of the players described in detail how they had almost preserved a victory.

I saw a short man wearing a “Celebrity” badge, sitting in the shade.  His name was Leslie Jordan.  He was a short man with a sweet southern accent, and he was part of the cast of Designing Women.  I sat next to him, because he had enough sense to get out of the hot sun.  He told me about what it was like to work with a cast that included Annie Potts, Delta Burke, Dixie Carter, Jean Smart.  I told him that I watched the show and that made him smile. 

Our next match was at 3 pm with a team from Irvine.  I would like to say for the sake of this story that we rose to challenge and beat them soundly, but it would turn this nonfiction story to purely fiction, because Irvine beat us like Santa Barbara had a few hours before.  Two losses and you’re out, so we had been eliminated from the volleyball competition.  

The only problem was we had over an hour before dinner and that left us with “free time” which was not a good option for us.

“I had a baby.” Malissa sat with the other five female athletes surrounding her at a picnic table.

“What happened?” One of them asked.

“They took him away from me.” She seemed to be on the verge of tears, so I stopped to make sure everything was alright.

“Why?” One of the others asked.

“Because I’m retarded.” She sniffed and wiped a tear with the back of her hand. 

“So?” 

“So, they told me I wasn’t fit to be the baby’s mother.” She answered as tears flowed down her face.  “She was given away in adoption.” 

I was fighting off the tears as she spoke, but none of them had noticed my close proximity. 

“My parents talked to the doctor who recommended I have the operation.” She said as she wiped off her tears.  The other girls gasped.  It wasn’t until much later I realized she had undergone a forced sterilization like so many of the other females had, because they were determined not to be fit for motherhood.  

Malissa turned and saw me there fighting off tears, she looked at me with her eyes flooded with tears and said, “Coach it’s real.  Every word.  I named my daughter Angel before they took her from me.  I have a picture of her.” 

She handed me a well-worn color photo of an infant who appeared very angelic in the photograph.  I did not say anything and just handed the photograph back to her.  

I needed a quiet place to recover, but with all of the people milling about, it was quite a task. Even as many were celebrating their victories, there were others whose trip here had come at quite a cost. 

 I thought about Ronnie who spent his childhood in a shelter for special children like him.  I wondered with the multitudes of athletes, how many of them had stories like Ronnie and Malissa.  I took off my red ball cap and looked at it for a moment.  In white letters just above the bill was written, “Special Olympics Summer Games.” 

“We got ‘em all.” Coach Meyers confirmed. “Dinner is in half an hour.  We will have closing ceremonies tonight.” 

We were treated to hamburgers and French fries.  Everyone ate their fill even Malissa who was surrounded by her friends told stories about her new boyfriend.  Each of them giggled at some of the details she was telling them.  After dinner, Coach Meyer got everyone outside to walk to the stadium for the closing ceremonies.  Once outside, he smiled and said, “All you are champions in my opinion.  Each of you are courageous in coming to these games.  The final score is only a number, but the reality is you are all winners.  Let's enjoy this time and celebrate our accomplishments.” 

There was a cheer that arose from the sixteen.  Coach Meyers was right.  We were all winners. 

In the cool of the evening, sitting in the stands we listened to team after team called to the podium.  Some were team medals and others were individual.  

What I saw I can only say was one of the most memorable moments of my life.  Todd Christensen who played tight end for John Madden’s Oakland Raiders including receiving a super bowl ring for a 1977 victory was standing near the awards podium. When the gold medal winner for gymnastics was announced, a young lady with Downs Syndrome came running from the stands.  She did not stop at the podium, instead she continued on straight at Todd Christensen.  She leaped into the air and Todd caught her just as he caught his super bowl touchdown pass in that 1977 super bowl.  

“We didn’t win anything.” One of the athletes noted as we walked from the stadium.  All I could think about was how Todd Christensen caught that gymnast so cleanly. 

“Maybe next year, eh?” 

“Maybe.” There was a chorus agreeing that things would be better next year.

“What did you think?” Coach Meyers asked.

“Well, so far, we have sixteen athletes, and we will be on our way home tomorrow.   I guess we couldn’t ask for anything more.” I sighed. 

“You got that right.” He laughed, “I did not expect to win anything.  We never do, but the athletes have a memory to last them for a long time.” 

I had my memory.  It was a bonus as far as I could see since I had come here to supervise.  I did that and more. 

Rafer Johnson was at the stadium gate wishing all of the athletes the best.  Some of them proudly wore their gold medals and others waved as they left the stadium.

I guess it goes without saying, but I will say it anyway, we were all winners whether we were wearing gold medals or not. The legacy of the Special Olympics is worldwide, and I was so proud to be a small part of it in the Summer Special Olympics of 1990 at the University of California Los Angeles.