July 5th 2013.
9.00am
I wake when my son calls my name. My alarm hasn’t gone off.
I am half an hour late already. Ten minutes later I start the car and we drive
away. I am still eating a hastily peeled banana, doing up my vest and still
without make-up. I have my vitamins in my pocket and a bottle of tap water. We
drive within the speed limit to our destination across town.
10.00am
We arrive at our destination with plenty of time before the
11am start of the ten-pin bowling for Special Olympics Winter State Games. We
purchase a hot drink and await the start of the event. We search and ask for
a program for the day’s events to try and ascertain when my son’s event will
occur. None is available.
11am
Everyone is at the venue. Nobody knows where he or she is
assigned or when each is supposed to commence. A Power-Crazed Despot (PCD)
whose role is to organise the players still has not posted a program. Everyone
is dependent upon him to announce to which lane they are assigned. If they walk
away they will not hear the announcement and will miss their call. Many are
forced to stand, because there are insufficient chairs. We strain to hear his
verbal pearls. Keep in mind that all these athletes have intellectual
disabilities and some have hearing disabilities also.
11.30am
Some of the players commence practice and finally start the
competition. Others still do not know where or when they will be bowling. PCD
finally admits that the rest of the players will not start till after 1pm. I
grit my teeth as I could have enjoyed another hour or two at home. I take my
son for a walk, as the tension in the venue will only aggravate his anxiety. We
buy lunch.
12.30pm
We return to the venue to find there is nowhere to sit and
the games are running late. We go outside and sit in the car.
12.55pm
We go back inside because we don’t want to miss any
announcement about new games. This time we take in our folding chairs. We find
a corner in semi darkness and wait. Athletes, parents and carers cover every
surface. I have a ding-dong confrontation with the PCD, but to no avail. He
will not tell me when my son might expect to bowl. And he will not tell me
when, after 9am tomorrow, we might expect to start the team bowling
competition. My god! He has had all the names and stats for over a month to
organise these 98 athletes!
1.55pm
My son’s name is called and he is assigned to a lane and
commences practice. This lane, of course, is nowhere near where we were
sitting, so I collect all our bags and chairs and try and find a position
within sight of his lane. I find a spot behind people standing to watch the
game. I can barely see the scoreboard. I cannot see the bowlers.
I watch. I talk to other distressed parents and carers. I
wait. I have now been at the venue for just on four hours!
4.00pm
My son finally finishes his three games. We commence waiting
for the results and presentations. Some other competitors have only recently commenced their games.
5.10pm
An announcement finally calls us to the café, where the
results and presentations for my son’s grading will begin. Haggard athletes and
carers jostle for position. A person without a loudspeaker shouts to announce
the winners. My son gets second place. He is happy. I commiserate with others,
who are still waiting for their events to end or their presentations to
commence.
5.15pm
We drive home in the rain.
6.05pm
We arrive home. I still have not put on my make-up.
Total time bowling – 2 hours
Total time driving – 2 hours
Total time waiting – 5 hours!!!
Joy oh Joy! We get to do it all again tomorrow.
What could have happened?
- We could have had a program emailed or posted to all athletes and families before the day of the event. Everyone will make allowances for events running late, but we should not have to tolerate being treated like naughty children for having the temerity to ask what to expect. It is strange to me that the region that PCD is connected to, knew not to arrive till just before they would be bowling. Their athletes arrived calm and refreshed a short time before their games.
- We could have had a number of programs and lane allocations posted at the venue that athletes could follow and refer to, as required. None appeared.
- We could have been treated with respect for our time and effort to get there, instead of devaluing the time and commitment of athletes and their families. Sharing information and some preparation by PCD would have made everyone aware of where and when they were playing and improved the atmosphere greatly.
- When it is known that a crowd will be present for an event, additional chairs could be procured or hired, or attendees could be encouraged to bring suitable portable seating.
- Petty officials, who obviously have a chip on their shoulder, should not be allowed to continue in their role. Their manner makes it a frustrating and exhausting experience for all concerned.
Special Olympics Australia is a worthwhile and excellent
organisation. My son has benefited from his participation. I have volunteered
in various capacities. Unfortunately SO suffers from a lack of suitable
officials, coaches and office bearers. Much falls to too few. A small number
use their position to gather and hold power to the detriment of the whole
organisation. It spoils the experience for all. It could, in time, tarnish the
profile of the whole organisation, and also deter others from volunteering for
these roles.