Autistic American Football
I run interference for him.
He’s my quarterback,
but one who only rarely makes his own play.
Always, seemingly, he must follow
the play of others.
He needs protection from the world around him
Daily. Because
he’s wired differently.
Thinks differently. Talks without
a filter. No holds barred.
And, no matter how hard
he tries, he can’t ever reach
the ’in-zone’.
(Where the ‘in-crowd’ hang out
waiting for a touch-down).
His voice, his beautiful voice,
thoughts and ideas,
the astounding rhetoric of his creative genius is
green, unfiltered and raw.
A wide open field for him to explore
(if only his mental sieve worked better; think
coffee filter made for beans but used for grounds).
His expressive self doesn’t always come through in
the real (normal?) world.
Can’t always be heard over the masses in
the stadium he has to navigate.
Then see how his frustration rises,
like a roaring tempest
imploding and exploding
on his pitch, in his field of play,
as the line backers collide
like helmeted tectonic plates,
carelessly crushing his confidence.
So, even if he manages to throw the ball
clear of the oncoming defense,
it rarely goes in the direction
he aimed for.
Seldom finds a wide receiver,
and the social safety ‘norms’ are
ready and waiting to tackle him even if
he executes the pass.
They make sure that he never
makes any progress, isn’t ever
accepted or acceptable.
The ball goes out of play,
and he finds himself alone, once more,
with me, his mum,
his strong safety, and
I run interference for him.
He’s my quarterback, and
the mask hides my tears.
October 2024
I wrote this poem as a response to Ben asking, at the age of 24, for an autism assessment. This I found very hard to do. The ‘meetings’ were long and there was a lot to go through from his past. A lot to rake over in terms of his childhood. We were never advised to do this when he was young – right up to his assessment for extra support at university. Ihe was tested numerous times over the years. In fact, we were told that he did not have autism. Hard not to feel responsible (for me) when I think about his prematurity. He requested this after having a ‘meltdown’ as he calls it at an interview where they seemed to assume he was autistic anyway! (Barnsley college).
But, 8 months and many, many forms and meetings later (it’s now June 2025) he has been diagnosed and will now get extra support. It also means he can tell prospective employers. And he now has a little cleaning job at the local high school (Shelley) and seems to be doing ok. Happy and healthy – that’s all you ever want for your children.
PUBLISHED in the Fulcrum Review 2025