I have a list of about five posts but the thing this week with Curt Schilling’s daughter has mesmerized me. I started following his blog, 38 Pitches the other day. If you’re not a sports fan, you may not know Curt Schilling. In short, he was a Major League pitcher. I respected him in his playing days, as a fan of baseball, in spite of his continued dominance over the hitters on my beloved A’s team. I don’t always agree with his politics, nor his sports commentaries, but there’s a respect there.
What’s happened to his family this week is ridiculous. His response was amazing. He did what any dad would do when his precious daughter was viciously harassed over social media. Yesterday, his newest post popped into my email. The first line took my breath away. Over all the years I’ve followed him on the field and off, I never knew he had a son on the autism spectrum. His pride over his son’s response to the firestorm this week, much less the words his son wrote, moved me to tears, .
I’ve never met Curt Schilling. He wouldn’t know me from Job. But when you find out another person is an autism parent, you (or at least I), feel a sense of connection. I felt his pride in his son. I understood what he might feel reading what his son wrote. I felt that pride…a kid who may be something like mine wrote something so amazing, so thoughtful, so heartfelt.
The autism spectrum is huge. One kid is not like another. They are not cookie-cutter just because they share a diagnosis. But parents of ASD kids face a similar demon. We share a small world. And thus there is some connection, a membership to the same club.
Mr. Schilling has earned a new respect from me this week, in his handling of this situation, the way he’s fought for his daughter, and his pride in his amazing son. He’s never played for one of my teams. I haven’t always been a fan. But from one autism parent to another, rock on. I get it.