Special Olympics about more than winning
for Park University business student
Originally published in the Park University Stylus, Oct. 2011.
by Andi Enns
Editor
One warm spring night in 2009, the high school seniors of Blue Springs, Missouri got into their sharpest attire, clipped on carnation corsages, and cheesed for their mom’s cameras. It was prom night once again. The votes for the royal court had been tallied and shiny plastic crowns were reserved for those lucky few. But one couple that year said they didn’t think the crowns went to the right people. One said he wanted to make it right.
Instead of being the disgruntled rebels smoking in the bathroom and waxing poetic about bohemia, the ones who disagreed were the preppy prom royalty themselves. Joseph M. Malone gave his red velvet crown to Brett, a student in the special education track. He said he told Brett, “You deserve this.”
“Brett couldn’t talk, so he just patted my shoulder,” said Malone. “He kept that crown in a case in his room.”
The prom queen that night gave her tiara to mentally disabled Whitney.
“Whitney ran on stage, yelling ‘I got prom queen! I got prom queen!’” said Malone.
While it may be a Kodak-moment of a story, Malone said he wouldn’t have made that decision if prom had been a few years earlier.
He grew up in a house full of parental conflict. Like many 13 year olds who felt angry at home, Malone acted out in school. He made friends with other boys who were angry. He was picked on by even angrier kids, and he was struggling with classes.
“It was the hardest time of my life,” said Malone. “I was having a really tough time in school because of all the arguing at home. And my best friend threatened to kill a teacher that year, so I wasn’t treated so well after that.”
Even more than his home life or his tormentors, Malone said he doesn’t like to think back on his own actions. In his eighth grade physical education class, Malone had a mentally disabled classmate. This teen couldn’t control his bladder, often drooled on others, and generally seemed socially awkward to the eighth graders.
“We’d team up on him,” said Malone. “And we knew he was disabled.”
Flash forward a few years, and Malone was watching a Chiefs football game at Arrowhead Stadium. The friend sitting next to him, after a day of sharing laughs and having fun, asks if Malone remembers bullying him.
“It broke my heart,” said Malone, his face crinkling around his cigar-brown eyes. “I mean, you don’t even realize what they go through. How their lives are. Their parents aren’t always great, but group homes aren’t much better. It just really breaks my heart that I hurt them too.”
In ninth grade, Malone said he was trying to improve himself. He began to attend church on a regular basis and started taking school seriously. He joined a Christian band at church and clubs at school. He joined Student Activities Club and ended up liking it enough to stick with it and become president. Eventually, he was given an opportunity to be an assistant coach for the local flag football team for Special Olympics.
“In junior year, I began to think that maybe I’m not the lucky one for being ‘normal’,” said Malone. “Special ed kids don’t judge anyone. They’re not two-faced. They’ll tell you how it is and what they think. It’s so refreshing.”
One blistering day, the kind of swelter that makes you want to peel your skin off just to be a bit cooler, Malone huddled with a group of nationally-ranked athletes. They were all around the same age as him, but most had the mental capacity of a seventh grader. In their official Special Olympics biographies, most of them are quoted as saying being on the team has changed their lives and fulfilled their dreams of playing the sport.
Even as the sweat ran down their faces and the humidity oppressed their senses, Malone said the excitement was palpable. It was the equivalent of the Superbowl for that flag football team, and those ten men were about to play for the national title.
“The talent was shocking,” said Malone. “They were as good as any high school team.”
As he looked from face to face, Malone said he let go of his love of competition and desire to win. It was all in playing the game the best they could, as a team. After praying, the Missouri flag football team played their hardest in the nine championship games.
And they won.
“People who mock them just don’t understand,” said Malone. “Now it makes me want to kick people who complain over a broken nail. They’ve gone through so much, they are so amazing. They just complete me. These kids are my family.”
by Andi Enns
Editor
One warm spring night in 2009, the high school seniors of Blue Springs, Missouri got into their sharpest attire, clipped on carnation corsages, and cheesed for their mom’s cameras. It was prom night once again. The votes for the royal court had been tallied and shiny plastic crowns were reserved for those lucky few. But one couple that year said they didn’t think the crowns went to the right people. One said he wanted to make it right.
Instead of being the disgruntled rebels smoking in the bathroom and waxing poetic about bohemia, the ones who disagreed were the preppy prom royalty themselves. Joseph M. Malone gave his red velvet crown to Brett, a student in the special education track. He said he told Brett, “You deserve this.”
“Brett couldn’t talk, so he just patted my shoulder,” said Malone. “He kept that crown in a case in his room.”
The prom queen that night gave her tiara to mentally disabled Whitney.
“Whitney ran on stage, yelling ‘I got prom queen! I got prom queen!’” said Malone.
While it may be a Kodak-moment of a story, Malone said he wouldn’t have made that decision if prom had been a few years earlier.
He grew up in a house full of parental conflict. Like many 13 year olds who felt angry at home, Malone acted out in school. He made friends with other boys who were angry. He was picked on by even angrier kids, and he was struggling with classes.
“It was the hardest time of my life,” said Malone. “I was having a really tough time in school because of all the arguing at home. And my best friend threatened to kill a teacher that year, so I wasn’t treated so well after that.”
Even more than his home life or his tormentors, Malone said he doesn’t like to think back on his own actions. In his eighth grade physical education class, Malone had a mentally disabled classmate. This teen couldn’t control his bladder, often drooled on others, and generally seemed socially awkward to the eighth graders.
“We’d team up on him,” said Malone. “And we knew he was disabled.”
Flash forward a few years, and Malone was watching a Chiefs football game at Arrowhead Stadium. The friend sitting next to him, after a day of sharing laughs and having fun, asks if Malone remembers bullying him.
“It broke my heart,” said Malone, his face crinkling around his cigar-brown eyes. “I mean, you don’t even realize what they go through. How their lives are. Their parents aren’t always great, but group homes aren’t much better. It just really breaks my heart that I hurt them too.”
In ninth grade, Malone said he was trying to improve himself. He began to attend church on a regular basis and started taking school seriously. He joined a Christian band at church and clubs at school. He joined Student Activities Club and ended up liking it enough to stick with it and become president. Eventually, he was given an opportunity to be an assistant coach for the local flag football team for Special Olympics.
“In junior year, I began to think that maybe I’m not the lucky one for being ‘normal’,” said Malone. “Special ed kids don’t judge anyone. They’re not two-faced. They’ll tell you how it is and what they think. It’s so refreshing.”
One blistering day, the kind of swelter that makes you want to peel your skin off just to be a bit cooler, Malone huddled with a group of nationally-ranked athletes. They were all around the same age as him, but most had the mental capacity of a seventh grader. In their official Special Olympics biographies, most of them are quoted as saying being on the team has changed their lives and fulfilled their dreams of playing the sport.
Even as the sweat ran down their faces and the humidity oppressed their senses, Malone said the excitement was palpable. It was the equivalent of the Superbowl for that flag football team, and those ten men were about to play for the national title.
“The talent was shocking,” said Malone. “They were as good as any high school team.”
As he looked from face to face, Malone said he let go of his love of competition and desire to win. It was all in playing the game the best they could, as a team. After praying, the Missouri flag football team played their hardest in the nine championship games.
And they won.
“People who mock them just don’t understand,” said Malone. “Now it makes me want to kick people who complain over a broken nail. They’ve gone through so much, they are so amazing. They just complete me. These kids are my family.”