I had this great idea for Bridget. She loves to run and play. I wanted her to have more typical peer interaction. Bridget would tell me that she played soccer at school. Viola! I will sign her up for the Y.
Before signing her up, I asked if she would be a suitable participant. I was told that the YMCA isn’t about competition but about teamwork and inclusion. I thought I had found the one thing where Bridget could be a typical kid. I know it’s stupid. I know, in my head, that she has a disability and there are some things she cannot do.
It’s my heart that has difficulty.
For some reason, I thought this would be the happy medium. That she would run around with new friends. Yes, they might not understand her. But how much dialogue goes on during a soccer game. I knew the coach would be teaching skills that she would be unable to perform. That didn’t matter. She would be there with children in her own age bracket. She was smack dab in the middle of the age range. Sure there would be kids who could play, but there would also be kids who had never been on a field. I knew that she would be unable to play at their level. I thought she would have fun.
I was wrong.
The kids? They are the next Pele or Mia. They are using their heads and fly kicks. They are running around the field like a herd of elephants. Bridget is the turtle on the ground hoping not to get crushed. She spends more time on the sidelines behind my legs than on the field. When we convince her to actually get on the field she gets smacked with the ball so hard she goes flying to the ground.
I’m torn between wanting her to play and being terrified she is going to be really hurt.
I called the Y. I explained my fears. I was told that it was their job to make the game safe for all children’s abilities, including Bridget.
I sent her back. We spent most of the hour in this position.
Her teammates didn’t even realize she wasn’t there. The game went on. The other kids had fun as she watched from the sidelines. When I got her onto the field, she went right to the goal and turned her back to the game. A ball goes flying into the net, blocked by her butt. She saved the game winning goal. As she got from being face planted on the ground the coach tried to cheer her on.
“Good job, Bridget! You saved the goal!”.
“ALL DONE” She cried and stomped off the field.
We drove home, she was hysterical. Head pounding, legs kicking the seat in front of her. NO MORE SOCCER she screamed, tears streaked down her face.
No more, I whispered in shame.
I allowed my own want of a typical experience get in the way of her safety and well-being. Instead of placing her in a sport with her developmental age, my stubborness signed her up for her actual age. I listened to a well-intentioned coach who promised he could make the game inclusive. I placed faith in children who had never been exposed to adaptive sports and thought they would just understand how to add Bridget to the game.
I was wrong.
Bridget doesn’t want to play soccer. She is “all done”.
She won’t be at soccer tomorrow.
It’s not the YMCA’s fault. It’s not her teammates fault and it’s not her fault.
It’s what is best for Bridget.
I know I will continue to make mistakes. I know I will always battle my head versus my heart.
I just hope the next time doesn’t result in her being bruised.
(Un)Diagnosed and still okay 
I did the same thing… Soccer (beginners) seemed the logical thing. I was told that none of the players knew what they were doing… Soccer was NOT successful. If we didn’t try everything we wouldn’t have eventually found things that he did like. Don’t beat yourself up
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Right? It did seem so freaking logical. Like no one knows how to play so it will be perfect. WHOOPS!
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In DC-speak “It was a de-aster”
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We quit soccer too. Trying baseball now and it’s okay but I have to really check myself to not get frustrated. I’m sorry this didn’t work for you. Maybe there’s a team of inclusion soccer? T’s doing a camp this summer that’s almost a 1:1 ratio for tons of fun stuff but…well, I’m nervous about it, too. So hard. Hugs friend.
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If we were having a glass of wine, I’d tell you I’m sorry this didn’t work out, and that it must have broken your heart to see it play out that way. I’d tell you I hope you’re not still feeling shame over it. You never know how beginning soccer’s going to be. There’s no shame in having given it a try, and there’s no shame in being ALL DONE. You’ll try other things that won’t work, and you’ll try other things that you think don’t stand a chance, but will. Forgive yourself <3.
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I’m trying to forgive myself….I’m sure you know that is easier said than done!
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Ohhh Kerri!! I LOVE that you tried for her. I love that you are giving her these opportunities, and sure, they won’t all work out but that’s okay. 🙂 Now you know that soccer wasn’t the best fit, but there will be other activities, other opportunities!
When I was little, my physical therapist wanted me to take ballet classes…I don’t remember this, but according to my mom, it was a total flop, as much as all three of us wanted it to work. I couldn’t even stand to do the moves, and my legs kept collapsing from under me, refusing to hold my weight. We tried again in a few years and found success, but that initial experience was crushing.
HUGS. It’s hard, I know. Inclusion isn’t always as easy as it should be, but you are enough, and Bridget is enough. I hope you had some chocolate on hand after all this!! xo
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Thanks, my friend. That means a lot….that you understand and I hope some day Bridget will as well
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The other members of your village said it perfectly. 😘
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Have you looked into the Challenger Club? They pair typical kids with the players to help them play sports at their own pace.They do other activities besides sports also.
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Yes, I have. But I foolishly wanted something typical. I will look more closely at the Challenger group. Thanks!
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