Spirit of camaraderie buoys Paralympics
WHISTLER, BC—I'm watching a mob of Japanese fans chant in Russian, when I realize just how different the Paralympics are from any other sporting event I know.
While nationalism runs high here—it seems a common solidarity runs even higher. So, when on a rainy Whistler peak, three Russian sit skiers sweep the podium, the rest of the crowd helps the Sochi crew belt out cheers.
Don't get me wrong. Competitive spirit still runs high. When Jim Armstrong's final stone of the gold medal curling match flew down the ice, you could practically feel thousands of fans collectively holding their breath. And when three members of our sledge hockey team were tossed into the penalty box, the tension of the resulting power play almost knocked the entire UBC Thunderbird arena off their seats.
But missing are the boos and jeers. Here, there are no disgruntled fans shouting abuse or leaving when defeat seems inevitable. Time and again I watch even athletes applaud for those who bumped them off the podium.
Every Paralympian faces a personal journey to get to this point, Armstrong says. Behind each athlete's journey is a team of personal fans.
While watching the Canadian sledge hockey team lose the bronze medal to Norway, one sign grabs my attention. It reads: "Never Give Up." The sign sports the signatures of more than 50 friends and family members who flew out from Ontario to support forward Todd Nicholson.
Over 20 years ago, Nicholson lost control of his car while driving home from his high school prom. He was left paraplegic. While in intensive care, his mother Carol urged him not to give up, saying that no matter what he wanted to do with his life, there would always be someone to help him get there.
"I didn't do it on my own," Nicholson says. "We all have certain obstacles, certain injustices, that we have to overcome, but there's always someone out there who will help you get to the next level."
These are Nicholson's final games. He says his wife, ski-guide Emily Glossop, put her own career on hold so he could "finish out the sport."
"It means the world to find that person who will help push you," Nicholson says, "and she's the one who's done that for me."
The supportive role isn't always easy. Just ask Robin McKeever.
His brother, visually-impaired cross-country skier Brian McKeever is hot stuff in these games. Brian made international headlines after expectations he would be the first person to compete in both the Winter Olympics and Paralympics. He was heralded as a hero in the Paralympic closing ceremony and won three gold medals in 2010—bringing his total medal count to 10, seven of which are gold.
Older brother Robin shares the course, but rarely the media fame. As Brian's sighted ski-guide, Roin says, "I know it's my job to get my brother to the finish line as fast as I can."
I'm watching as the McKeever's hit the 1 kilometre sprint. To the astonishment of the commentators, Brian shoots ahead of his brother at the 100 meter mark. Robin says in cases like that it's vital he keeps out of the way of the other skiers. Should Robin get in anyone's way, he'll get Brian disqualified.
A commentator wonders aloud if Robin—himself a nine-time Canadian national champion—has become superfluous. But Robin is not only the person who helped Brian build his career, he's the one Brian trains with, constantly challenging him to ski faster, work harder.
I get the impression that a healthy sibling rivalry exists between them, which they use as a driving force for excellence.
"What's it like having your brother as your guide?" I ask.
"It's huge," Brian says, "We push each other. We help each other out. And it's brought us closer as brothers."
I walk through Whistler village that night, as closing ceremony fireworks explode above me. I think about the athletes applauding for those they lost to.
And wonder if it's harder to be the guide, or be the one who accepted guidance from someone else.
Nicholson's words run through my mind. "There's always someone out there who will help you get to the next level."
His grandmother had believed in relying on help from the Lord. But for Nicholson the focus is on our very human responsibility to help each other, for just one more step of the journey.
Robin asked me to mention that his top priority is being a good father to his own six-year-old son. I'm left hoping my own quest for gold never blinds me from my responsibility to guide others… and like Robin, to know when to lead from the front and when to simply get out of the way.
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