Skates, Sticks and a Little Support

[Guest guest]

Skates, Sticks and a Little Support

Farley for The New York Times

and his son Danny, 13, at an American Special

Hockey Association game last weekend in Hicksville. Danny, who has Down

syndrome, plays for the Long Island Blues. By MICHAEL WINERIP

Published: January 20, 2008

Slide Show

Skating

to the Goal

IT was Saturday night, so and his

13-year-old son, Danny, were getting ready for Danny’s hockey game. They

opened Danny’s hockey bag to make sure everything was packed. For

Christmas, Santa had brought Danny new hockey suspenders, new pads, a new

helmet and new skates, and they checked to be sure everything was inside. Last

practice, Danny forgot his socks and had to wear Matt Pope’s extras.

“Where’s your white jersey?” Mr. asked, and Danny

held it up. “No. 5,” Danny said.

“He knows everyone’s number,” said Mr. , who was

trying to move things along; Danny has Down syndrome, and getting him dressed

in all the equipment at the rink can be slow going. Mr. reminded him

they had to be on the ice in 45 minutes.

“ Irwin, 45,” Danny said.

Danny’s Mom, , came into the kitchen and said, “Fill up

your water bottle.”

“I want Coke,” Danny said.

“No Coke,” said his dad. “Water in the water bottle.”

Danny held the empty bottle out to be filled and his mom said: “You

can do it yourself. You’re 13.”

“Thirteen, Joe Burdi,” Danny said.

When Danny was born, a relative who had a child with cerebral palsy said

something that made things easier for Mr. . She said no matter how many

years passed, when Christmas came around again, Danny would still believe in

Santa Claus, and Mr. thought, “I can live with that.”

He is reminded of this daily. Routine is important to children with Down syndrome,

and every night before Danny goes to bed, he insists that his dad read him

“The Night Before Christmas” — even in July.

Mr. started the van, and Danny immediately began grousing. “I

know, I know, hold on...” Mr. said. “We have to put on

‘High School Musical,’ ” he explained, slipping in the

CD. When “Start of Something New” came on, Danny began singing, not

quite to himself, and he sang all the way to the rink.

Mr. , a civil engineer, coaches his younger son, , in football

and basketball, but knew nothing about hockey. Hockey was Danny’s idea.

Four years ago, Danny brought home a flier from school announcing the formation

of the Long Island Blues, a team for kids with disabilities like Down syndrome,

autism, attention deficit disorder, Tourette’s syndrome and cerebral

palsy. Ms. was going to throw it away, but Danny said: “No!

Hockey me.”

“You don’t skate,” said Mr. .

“Hockey me,” Danny said again, and once he fixates on an idea,

he’s tough to dissuade, as anyone knows who has ever tried driving him

anyplace without playing “High School Musical.”

So hockey Danny it was. They went to the first practice with a pair of

rented skates and a bike helmet and were one of eight families that year. Today

there are 55 players, as young as 5 and as old as 25, mirroring the nationwide

growth in the American Special Hockey Association. In the last four years, the

association has gone from a dozen teams to more than 50, including teams in

Westchester (New York Raptors), Connecticut (Southern Connecticut Storm) and

New Jersey (Daredevils).

“We look like no other hockey you’ve ever seen,” said Jon

Schwartz, who is the national association vice president and coach of the

Daredevils — Long Island’s opponent at Cantiague Park in Hicksville

last weekend. Conventional rules like offsides and icing are not enforced.

Lines are pitted against each other according to ability, and sometimes

5-year-old Shane Sullivan plays beside Max Graney and , who both

have beards.

As in regular hockey, there are generally six players on the ice, but there

can also be a few extra “floaters” who just skate in circles.

Russo, 10, the son of the Blues’ head coach, Mike Russo,

can’t skate on his own, so Kathleen Gallagher, a parent, leads him around

the ice, staying as far from the puck as possible.

Still, it is unmistakably hockey, with players skating up and down, frenzied

banging of the boards when a goal is scored, and uniforms that are every bit as

fancy as the pros’. Though many of the players have clear disabilities

and have trouble walking on land, on ice they seem to float.

Bill Ackerman, a Blues assistant coach whose 14-year-old daughter, ,

has Asperger’s syndrome and is a member of the team, believes the

uniforms and equipment play a crucial role: the helmets focus the players and

block out distractions; the sticks are like third legs, providing extra

stability; there’s so much padding, falling doesn’t hurt; and when

they pull down their masks to play, every one of them looks like the

Islanders’ Mike Comrie.

Coaching the Blues has its subtleties. As one line came off the ice, Mr.

Ackerman made sure a boy with Tourette’s wasn’t sitting by the

girls on the bench. “Things come out of his mouth — I don’t

want them to hear it,” he said.

It took Danny three seasons to master skating, and now, when he makes his

way down the ice to the offensive end, he’s so happy to be there, he

doesn’t want to leave. “He loves being near the goal,” says

his dad. “When we sub, it’s hard to get him off the ice.”

The parents appreciate that so many other adults get to know and understand

their kids. At one point, Danny skated over to the bench and yelled,

“Outback!” Danny slurs his words and can be hard to understand, but

Neil Robbins, a coach, knew exactly what Danny meant. “He wants to go out

to eat,” he said.

“Danny, the game’s not even half over,” Mr. Robbins told

him. “Get back out there.”

When he had skated off, Mr. Robbins said, “Danny’s a big French-fry

guy.”

After the game, the small dressing room was crammed with players and their

fathers, who were helping them take off their equipment and get back into their

street clothes. Usually on the way home the es go to the drive-through

at Mc’s and order fries, but tonight there was a team party, and

Danny ate pizza — he’s a big pepperoni guy, too — rubbing his

hands in delight before each bite.

In the van, he groused until Mr. put on “High School

Musical” and then sang out loud to himself the whole way home. Though it

was 10 by the time they got back to Garden City, well past Danny’s

bedtime, Mr. read him “The Night Before Christmas,” said

good night and then, as he always does, sat in the dark watching until his son

fell asleep.

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/01/20/nyregion/nyregionspecial2/20Rparenting.html?em & ex=1200978000 & en=5142aeaff07a8fcd & ei=5087%0A