Special Gifts

In 1971 the US Olympic Committee granted the Special Olympics official approval to use the name “Olympics.”

But I want to know who had the foresight to use the word Special.

At first glance special is such a bland word, defined as “better, greater, or otherwise different than what is usual.”

But it's the only way to characterize these Olympic games.

"Special" is the Crown Prince trying to give his welcoming address while an athlete standing to his left stole the show beaming and waving to the crowd after seeing himself projected on the screen.

"Special" is seeing the Crown Prince of a country, where ten years ago families would not have publicly recognized their special needs children, hugging the boy as he continued welcoming 7,500 athletes from 190 countries.

"Special" is the faces of the athletes who could not contain their joy as Tim Shriver told them, “the crowd is applauding you.”

When you watch the regular Olympic games the athletes walk into the arena filming the scene with their phones trying to capture the moment. But at the Special Olympics the athletes carry no phones because they are living the moment.

"Special" is the fact that the United Arab Emirates does not recognize the State of Israel, but there we were watching the Israeli teams walk across the stage, because things like diplomatic relations don’t matter on these courts.

"Special" is the fact that it looked like any other sports tournament you’ve taken your child to, but there are differences:  Here the athletes leap into the air when they score and help their opponents to their feet when they fall, and apologize after committing a foul.

As an Israeli basketball team prepared to battle the US team I asked one of the referees how close they call the fouls like double dribbling and traveling, transgressions rarely called in today’s NBA.

“I watch them during the first few minutes of the game,” the ref tells me. “I look at their ability level. And the next time down the court, if they are double dribbling and I know they can do better, I call it. But if it’s the best they can do, I let it slide.”

Early in the game the ref calls a foul, and then listens to the athlete's plea.  How do you know this is Special?  Because the referee hugs the young athlete who buries his face in the zebra's shirt and says he is sorry.

The Special Olympics logo is based on a sculpture called “Joy and Happiness to all the Children of the World,” and I suppose that captures the mood as well as anything.  There is joy on those courts and in those eyes.  Here the happiness quotient is so much higher.  It can’t be quantified but you see it after each basket is made, each gymnastics routine is completed, each lap is run.  The parents are as happy as the athlete, cheering not just for their children to succeed in their event, but because they are winning at living.

Two hours outside of Abu Dhabi my daughter is trying to capture the desert with an iPhone.  "These pictures won't do it justice," she complains.  And that’s how I feel after witnessing these games.  Words fail.  But boy, were they special.