Marianne O'Malley got the verdict on the opening ceremony from her son, Eoin, who lives with disability.
This is the unashamed feel-good story of a 21-year-old man with an intellectual and physical disability being invited to review the Opening Ceremony. Can you just imagine that happening 10 years ago? And before you dismiss this as an exploitative gimmick, think about it - who better to review a ceremony dedicated to the ability and achievements of people with intellectual disability and designed to be enjoyed by them than someone who shares their world?
My son, Eoin, is an ebullient extrovert with a wicked sense of humour and a sophisticated and varied palate in live entertainment. He is also a man of strong opinions, and very willing to share them. Of necessity, he and I will work together. Eoin doesn't read or write very well. He also has a speech impairment but is very creative in augmenting his verbal communication using body language and signals.
His response, when I asked him if he'd like to do this was a very convincing and emphatic "Yes! Yes! Yes!" followed by a nod towards the phone: "ring up - now" (ring up and accept immediately).
On Saturday, he woke at the crack of dawn, excited and happy and roaring "Hurry up! - late!" (no need to explain that one). His only objective was to be the first spectator in Croke Park. And he nearly was. But then, we're used to arriving early everywhere. In the wheelchair-hostile environment in Ireland, each journey outside our front door has to be like a military manoeuvre. Tactical planning and enough time for fall-back options are essential.
"Wow!" was the response to his first sight of the transformed pitch as we took our seats in the wheelchair section of the Canal End. Then he focused intently on the flag-waving instructions that preceded the official opening. His hand function is poor so he was unable to hold one himself; instead he took responsibility for all of us seated around him and vigilantly reminded us to wave when requested throughout the evening. I asked him why it was important and he sighed: "nice see - on telly!" (it will be nice for those of you watching it on television).
Although his attention never wavered during the Parade of Athletes, Eoin is very loyal and his most enthusiastic welcome was for Ireland. He insists I mention volunteers from the Reserve Defence Force who were clustered behind us. They helped lift Eoin out of his wheelchair to stand and sing during the tumultuous response to the Irish team. He was delighted to see his friend, Shauna Bradley, taking the Olympic oath on behalf of the athletes.
Once started, it's difficult to stop Eoin singing and he belted along with all the performers, reminding me every so often to take note of his opinion for "the news". Ronan Keating sadly lost his ranking as number one in favour of Samantha Mumba. And he thought Macnas and The Blue Teapot Theatre Company were riveting and wondered how they got the man into the balloon without deflating it (how did they?)
But appropriately, the most emotional and climactic moment for Eoin was the entry of the Flame of Hope to the stadium, escorted by the Garda Síochána Motorcycle Unit. As it made its final journey around the stadium the audience took to their feet, and with the help of our neighbours, so did Eoin. As the Flame of Hope Tower erupted, we cheered and sang and hugged and. . .hoped. In the words of Katie Meade, an International Global Messenger for the Special Olympics: "Get to know us. . .we're not so different."