Helping the most vulnerable of all

THE REAL GAMES: Not only did Ireland win the bid to be the first country outside the US to host the Special Olympics World Summer…

THE REAL GAMES: Not only did Ireland win the bid to be the first country outside the US to host the Special Olympics World Summer Games, but we've also got another unique and groundbreaking achievement to celebrate. For the first time in its history, we've won the right to have the Motor Activities Programme included in the line-up of acknowledged sporting activities within the World Games.

This programme is designed for people with a severe to profound intellectual disability and those whose combination of physical, sensory and intellectual disability has not yet allowed them access to the more highly-skilled arena of competitive sports within the Special Olympics. The programme offers these athletes the opportunity to progress and learn at their own pace. Successfully batting a ball may well lead to eventually competing in a table tennis tournament. But, for now, batting the ball is more than enough.

Officially designated a demonstration sport, these Irish athletes do not compete against each other - rather they challenge themselves, and compete with their own disability. And they're winning, their skills are shining through.

As Kim O'Lone, Sports Commissioner for Motor Activities and an advocate for their programme, explains: "Initially, when people see our athletes they feel sorry for them. But, within a short time, they begin to register their ability and end up with respect and regard for their efforts."

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Inside this intimate space within the RDS, the tension is incredible. Among the spectators, parents and family are easily identifiable: their knuckles are whiter; their focus is absolute. Athletes and coaches work together with unfailing synergy. Sometimes an imperceptible nod or whispered word of encouragement is all that's needed to achieve success. And then all hell breaks loose, whoops of joy and a husky voice, choked with delight, roars out: "You did it!"

Ms O'Lone says, "Some of these athletes may not be able to communicate verbally but I've worked with them for more than 20 years. They fully understand and appreciate the recognition and encouragement they're receiving."

Another coach comments: "Isn't it wonderful to see them centre-stage at last - many people like this barely make it outside to their local shop."

Outside, in our mainstream world of comparisons, these athletes and the people with multiple disabilities they represent would be described as the most vulnerable of the vulnerable. But instead of being the most protected and nurtured, they're among the most marginalised. Apart from inadequate and unreliable services and respite, many need to use wheelchairs. And real life for them and for their families and carers is extraordinarily difficult.

Instead of living in an isolated, parallel world, my son and I have struggled to remain connected. Realistically, public transport can be discounted as a viable option. We like to go to the pictures and eat in restaurants with friends. We like to meander down the street and do a little shopping. Simple everyday things that don't cost a thought to an ambulatory person but become a daunting task for someone in a wheelchair and their carer.

We have the odd wheelchair parking space but often, it's taken by a car without legitimate authorisation. We have some wheelchair-accessible lavatories now, but they're often either locked or they're considered a handy storage place for brooms and mops. We have some dipped kerbs on our paths but they become useless when a barrier of rubbish bags impedes our progress.

Providing wheelchair facilities and adapting our environment to facilitate people with disability is also an external manifestation of our internal attitude towards the broad community of people with disability. Not only does our physical environment need to change but so does the attitude of our preoccupied citizens. I'm convinced we're invisible. Doors swing back and hit us, groups gather to chat and block our progress. Nobody seems to notice us trying to heave a heavy chair up unavoidable steps and kerbs. I can only imagine the courage it takes to tackle this assault course when you're an independent wheelchair user.

My experience with my son replicates the experience of so many. The unspoken message from the physical environment our society has created is: stay at home, you're not welcome out here. The spoken words from our government are - you have no legal right to complain.