Five…I’d say that’s the number of times I’ve watched the Oprah show in the last 3-4 months. So, I’m not a huge fan. I do sometimes tune in, though, if homeschool is over and I need a break in the afternoon. Or usually I catch it on at some doctor’s office as we’re waiting for an appointment.

On Friday, for some strange reason, I was watching it while working on a craft project in my basement. The topic was Little Geniuses. It was amazing to watch all that talent. But then…the story switched to a high school senior with Autism. Here’s the story from oprah.com:

Senior Jason McElwain was the basketball team manager at Greece Athena High School in Rochester, New York. Although Jason, who has autism, was happy on the sidelines, he always dreamed of playing on the court. As a reward for his years of dedication, Coach Johnson, who headed the team, let Jason suit up for his very last home game—not to play, but to know what it feels like to be on the team. Then, with four minutes left in the game, Coach Johnson shocked the crowd by calling Jason to the floor. For the first time, he was a varsity player.

Jason's first two shots went nowhere near the basket. His third, though, was a 20-foot three pointer. The fans went wild, and Jason was just getting started. In four minutes, the kid who had struggled with autism his whole life and never played in a high school varsity game sunk six three-pointers! When Jason's last shot went in at the buzzer, the crowd stormed the court, and Jason's teammates carried their hero on their shoulders.

As I saw the video of the crowd storming the court, tears welled up in my eyes. Then Oprah actually interviewed Jason. A ton of thoughts, questions and emotions flooded my brain:

“What was Jason feeling?”
“How hard was it for him to come out there on the Oprah show – with all the bright lights, the noise, the unexpected happenings?” I watched closely as Oprah leaned up and squeezed his hand, he stiffened slightly, but he didn’t recoil. I wondered how many years of therapy (and what kind) had gotten him to this point. And I cried, and cried, and cried tears of joy for his perseverance, for his parents’ pride, for his coach’s ultimate compassion. Unless you are living with a child whose disabilities limit him/her, it is hard to understand the mix of joy and sheer terror that comes when your child attempts to do something publicly.

And this truly marvelous coach summed it up best:

After Jason made his third shot in a row, Coach Johnson says everyone was overjoyed. "I was just sitting on the bench in complete disbelief with tears running down my face," he says.

Pass the Kleenex, I’m there with ya, coach!

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