After John finally touched home plate, Coach Robinson came over with a huge grin and held up his hand for a big high five. He didn’t seem to mind at all that the high five came with a significant amount of Tootsie Roll slime, which John wiped off his chin as we were rounding third base together. John had a scored a run – his first – which was cause for celebration even in a game with no score, no strikes and no outs.
I was skeptical when we signed up for Challenger Baseball for our autistic son. John doesn’t play catch, doesn’t seem to understand the rules of most games and has trouble sitting or standing in one place. While I love the pace of baseball, John is more inclined toward pastimes that involve constant motion: bed jumping, playground maneuvering, directionless running, etc.
I could tell when we pulled into the parking lot the first night that we were in trouble. The games take place at Mattydale Park, on Malden Road across from the airport. The park features two small playgrounds, several ball fields and one huge field.
“Playground … PLAYground! … PLAYGROUND!!,” he howled from the backseat, as soon as the park came into sight. No explanation about getting ready for the baseball game mattered. There was a playground – in fact two playgrounds – in his line of vision. There would be no stopping him.
That night culminated in John lying in the dust between home plate and the pitcher’s mound, screaming, before the first pitch was even tossed. Enough was enough. We stopped at the playground for a few minutes before heading home.
There’s a hollow feeling when you realize that your special needs child isn’t able to participate in activities designed especially for special needs children. He’s the one holding up the game. He’s the one shrieking at the sight of a batting helmet, and seeking every possible escape route from the field or the dugout.
As John and his little sister goofed around happily in the backseat, Carrie and I drove home silently.
For the next three games, we succeeded in getting John to the correct field for about one inning. He refused to put on a helmet or touch a bat and wandered the outfield aimlessly during fielding. But, he stayed in the dugout and sat with the team when we were up to bat. Some of the other kids took an interest in him and gave him words of encouragement.
Last Thursday, though, we took a new approach. Instead of batting, John and I just ran straight to first base. After the next child got a hit, we ran to second, stopped for Tootsie Roll reward, and then took off straight for third, rounded the base and headed for home. All the parents, coaches and players cheered as he hit the plate – his first run.
And he smiled.
He liked it so much, in fact, that when the other team came to bat, John kept running around the bases.
We’ll work on that this week.
David Tyler is publisher of Syracuse Parent. He lives in Eastwood with his wife, Carrie, and children, John, 5, and Abby, 3.
