Special Olympics - Year 2

I spent this weekend volunteering at the Northern California Special Olympics for the second year in a row - you may remember last year's entry: I received a marriage proposal from a tennis athlete. Well, this year was no less eventful - we were stationed at the track and field venue and I almost died. Not that I'm being overly dramatic (I never am), but a kid named Daniel almost took me out.

My job was to stand at the staging area and greet the athletes when they checked in for the races. Then I had to keep them all in one place until it was their turn. They like to wander around so it is much easier said than done. I tried distracting them with a game of "Duck, Duck, Goose" which quickly turned violent so we had to play "Simon Says" instead. After I explained for the third time that "Simon says you're ugly" and "Simon says you smell bad" are not valid commands, I gave up on that one too. Eventually we just decided to focus on stretching to get ready for the race.

When their heat was called, I took the athletes to the staring line and wished them luck - temporarily handing over responsibility to another brave volunteer who had to settle arguments about lane assignments. Then I headed for the finish line where I was to (attempt to) gather everyone up before escorting them back to their coaches and parents. This was probably my favorite part of the job since I got to tell them when to stop running and congratulate them on finishing the race. This is also where I almost died.

One of my groups was males age 15-17, and one of the more outgoing guys in the group was Daniel. Daniel entertained my coworker Fabian and I with stories about how he can run faster than a speeding bullet. When he told us that sometimes he runs so fast that flames come out of his shoes, the other kids started getting scared so we had to change the subject. I should mention that Daniel was about a foot taller than the other boys in his group and had at least 6 inches on me. He was no bean-pole either, probably a good 175 lbs. of solid strength. At the end of his race, Daniel was extremely proud, and very excited. I was there at the finish line to congratulate him, which is where I made the mistake of offering my hand for a high-five. When I saw him transfer his weight backward (the way a pitcher winds up before throwing the ball) things started going in slow motion. I knew I was in grave danger, but couldn't move my hand for fear that he'd accidentally make contact with my face instead. I tried to jump backward as he made contact but it was too late, all that force drove through my open palm and nearly knocked me over. I lost my balance and almost fell on my ass in front of everyone, but luckily I didn't. Somehow, the news camera saw it coming and rather than warn me he leaned down to get a nice clear shot of my pained expression.

Arm throbbing, I stood up to see Daniel with a very worried look on his face. He knew he had been a little too enthusiastic and offered an apologetic, "I guess sometimes I just don't know my own strength." He looked like he might cry, so I tried my hardest to smile and say "that's okay, next time just be a little more careful." I politely excused myself and asked if I could be in charge of the girls' heats for the rest of the day.

Despite my brush with death, I returned today. I saw Daniel, and he remembered yesterday's events and showed me his new technique where he holds out his hand and I give him high-five. It was much gentler.

I'm excited for next year's games, and hope we get to be part of the Track and Field event again. I learned two important things at this year's games:

1. Be careful around kids who are bigger than you.
2. There are some things can instantly take any regular guy from a 5 to an 8: a guitar, a badge, a military uniform, a puppy, to name a few. Well, add "Special Olympics Coach" to the list. If the coach from San Jose is reading this, please get in touch :)