“Here Comes the Rain Again,” Last Game, First Game in Playoffs, Unicorns vs. MacArthur

“Here Comes the Rain Again,” Last Game, First Game in Playoffs, Unicorns vs. MacArthur, Unicorn Stadium, Nov. 12, 2010

“The game went alright in particular except for the rain," Colin wrote.

Yes.  The last game had the challenge of one of the first.  Rain: Colin’s nemesis.  Or at least, one of his least favorite sensory experiences.  But, unlike the second game, or even the third, where it really did rain, it did not rain at this game.  It poured. 

When we arrived, we arrived with the rest of the fans to the only place halfway safe from the rain, under the Unicorn bleachers.  And when I say halfway, I am being literal, not figurative.  The Unicorn bleachers, unlike those in some of the stadiums we’d been to, are “old school”:  with gaps through which bottles, candy, cell phones, blankets, and this night, rain, fell.  In spots, we had to use the umbrella to stop the flow, and then I had to hold the bumbershoot as high over our heads as possible so as not to blind the population of tall people (growing daily) in this town. 

We found the band coming off the stands and huddling under their far end.  Many of their instruments, as was emphasized to me later, cannot be exposed to pouring rain without suffering damage.

Our first concern was that Colin made it down without climbing over the backs of those in front of him, and that he was calm.  He was safely down, and he was also calm, nor had he hurt anyone in his rush to escape the acidic properties of H2O, and worse, its sound and feel. 

Meanwhile, the football players continued sloshing back and forth on the field.  The opposing team, MacArthur, was one we’d played before and won against.  However, they had a very good “Wide End,” Jace Amaro (now signed with Texas Tech).  Not a running back, like Malcolm Brown (now signed with UT and considered the best running back in the U.S.  Oh yes, his team beat us in _only_ the last 30 seconds), or a running back like Green (signed with Nebraska now), or a third or whole back (whose nonexistence as positions puzzles and perturbs me still).  The point: McArthur's “Wide End” caught a catch that our coach was upset by, one that probably aided our losing this game.

But back to Colin’s report:

“The rain was basically the main problem with the game.  Mrs. Pradervand (the director again) let me stand under the risers for a second, but I had to come out sooner or later to play boom, boom [one of Colin’s favorite songs, as an earlier blog states], zoot suit riot, and grandioso in the Rain!!! [I don’t think “in the Rain!!!” was part of grandioso’s title, but it does have a ring to it].

See, tarp on risers and ponchos on boosters means a rainy game

Unicorn Band going out for their last marching performance of the season. 

Halftime in game against the McArthur Brahma's.

Breaking out the umbrellas again.

 And next the hard part for me, for several reasons, the first of which has to do with the way what follows in Colin’s mini-essay reminds me of an episode from a popular network comedy show, “The Middle."  In the "troubling-to-me" episode, the mother runs out onto the field at half time when her son, a Varsity football player at last, is knocked down to see if he is okay, much to his dismay.  But I’ll let Colin say it:

“I was very embarrassed about the fact that my mother embarrassed me out in front of the band.”

Okay.  There was a reason for his being "very embarrassed" about my “mother embarrassed me out in front of the band” issue that had nothing to do with my being an overzealous mother of a varsity player.  But, it did have something to do with a booster parent who didn’t want to confront a child (albeit a 5’9” teenaged male child with a ferocious scowl) who was different and potentially, in the crowd and fluster of the night, threatening.

Once again, communication problems involving autism proved to be a sticking point.  With me and my husband working full time, we hadn’t followed up, after I talked to the director, the mom of the Colin’s section leader, some of the other booster parents, including Colin’s speech therapist, and the booster club president, to inform the booster club member working on the field with the band that night that Colin was autistic. True that the same kid had done everything directors and other boosters had told him too.  True also that we were being stormed upon and the adult who asked me to help could have been tired and handling other problems. 

So I was asked to go out and tell Colin, when he wouldn’t respond to his peers, to stick his clarinet under his shirt at the half time performance when the rain started to pour again and his instrument was, for the second time that night, in danger. And I knew he would respond to his mother exactly as any neurotypical kid would respond to his mother going out onto the football field during a performance to tell him what to do: in short, he was embarrassed and angry and, of course, wouldn’t do what I said. 

Colin, right around the "10" marker to the left looking to peers and not taking advice.

Colin, slightly to the left of the 10 and looking to another peer whose advice he doesn't want to hear.

And I didn’t have time to respond to another booster parent as we stood in the rain at that moment and tell him that my son would listen to ANY other adult better than he would to his mother, just like ANY other neurotypical kid would have done. 

So there I was, pleading, embarrassed myself and getting a severely ugly look and a “NO” shake of the head from my son when I was asked to do what I shouldn’t have been asked to do.  

Colin thinking bad thoughts about his mom (who chased him onto the field).

Suffice it to say I’m staying far from the band at each performance now, unless of course, what has happened happens again, and Colin really does need me.  Damn.  You have a special needs teen and try to figure it out.

The good news:  Kids recover from "embarrassing" parents, as the picture below hopefully attests.

Colin, smiling again.  He's not saluting by the way.  That's the arm of a ROTC guy behind him!

Back to Colin:

“I discussed a few of my problems to Katy Underwood such as standing under the risers a few seconds.  Nothing else in particular happened except for the rain.”

Nothing else in particular happened but that I did talk to Mr. Eckert, one of the assistant band directors, and got permission to take Colin out early, when the rain did not end.  So, after going back to the school building and searching and running about the band rooms as I (nor any other adult) was not supposed to do, I found Colin somewhere.  Then Roger and I took Colin home, and Roger went back to watch the game in the rain. 

Again, we're not through with this band thing, any more than Colin is or needs to be, but obviously, we need to work on communication with others on many levels, for ourselves and especially for Colin. In fact, having read and helped untangle the confusing jumble of an explanation of my behavior as a overzealous mom that night, Roger just said, "I thought everyone knew [that Colin had autism]"!

And we need a clarinet teacher now to get us ready for next year.  This because, Super or not, Colin won't be happy as a Shadow forever, a fact I take now as a sign of progress.  He's embarrassed like any kid when his peers leave him behind.  And, one more time, when his mother chases him onto the field in front of the whole band.