We could all benefit from supporting each other

I had one of those experiences on Saturday where I thought I was going out to support a few friends in an endeavor, but then the tables turned, and I was the one who got to walk away with the prize.

The scene was Hooks’ bowling alley in Clovis, and the occasion was the state competition for the Special Olympics tenpins title.

Special Olympics competitions begin, as one might expect, with traditional opening ceremonies — an athlete carrying a torch and the singing of “The National Anthem.”

One athlete (my friend Haley, in this case) leads the others in a short, well-known oath penned by Eunice Kennedy Shriver, who founded Special Olympics in 1968: “Let me win. But if I cannot win, let me be brave in the attempt.”

There is also a parallel oath, one that volunteers take, and one I’d not heard before.

It goes like this: “I promise to give of the time in my life, so that Special Olympics athletes can have the time of their lives. I promise to support Special Olympics not just as an expression of charity, but as a form of respect for my fellow human beings. I promise to spread the word of volunteerism because in giving, I receive so much more in return.”

It’s hard to accurately describe the atmosphere of a Special Olympics competition.

Yes, these athletes of all ages are “in it to win it.”

But they wisely know that a shiny medal is but icing on the cake.

And the cake itself? It’s the joy of being in a community and environment like no other. It’s enthusiasm and love and heartfelt support, between the athletes, their coaches, their families, and their friends.

I didn’t try to get an exact count, but there were close to 100 bowlers on the 24 lanes that day.

Time and time again, I saw athletes who were competing against each other also be the first to cheer for each other when there was a strike, or to offer a word of encouragement after one of those darned gutter balls.

I was about to say that even complete strangers offered their unconditional support, but that would be wrong because when you walk in the door of a Special Olympics competition, there is no such thing as being a complete stranger to anyone.

In fact, don’t count on making it even 10 steps without meeting a new friend or getting the best hug of your life.

(Take my word on this. Special Olympians are the finest huggers on the planet.)

Perhaps spending a couple of hours in this beautifully accepting, welcoming, and supportive space wouldn’t have struck me with the same force had it not happened on the heels of such a fiercely contentious mid-term election, and in an era when we are so often bitterly divided in our opinions.

It seems to me that we could all benefit from the middle line of that volunteers’ oath, not to mention the example set by the Special Olympics community.

Imagine if we all supported each other, simply “as a form of respect for our fellow human beings.”

A few more bear hugs might not hurt either.

It seems like gold medal logic to me.

Betty Williamson is still beaming from her afternoon at the alley. Reach her at:

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