Life is a Ball and Don't You Forget It!

Last Tuesday, our moods adding up to a pitiful sum, my date and I hid out at the Laemmle’s Sunset 5. In a moment of good sense, we opted to see the documentary on the U.S. Paralympics Rugby team, "Murderball" over the Kurt Cobain tribute, “Last Days”. It was a wise decision, an amazing film and I can’t wait to tell you about it.

“Murderball” blends together a group of compelling characters who deal out adversity with panache; a dash of current events when two of the players pay a sobering visit to Veteran’s Hospital in Virginia where young, newly amputated troops appear shell-shocked at their present condition; loud cursing, smutty sex talk and crashing around on the court in the name of professional rugby. This type of unique content is exactly why this documentary raises the bar.

For myself, the film’s subject matter was much more personal. While clips from the Athens 2004 Paralympics flickered in front of us, my date turned to me in genuine awe and said: “Wow, the world has certainly changed”. I found myself moved to tears at how much.

Certainly having Christopher Reeve as a spokesperson elevated visibility of people living with disabilities in the ‘90s, although it is important to remember that a sizable part of this population was living in state nursing homes until as late as ‘70s when de-institutionalizing began and Vietnam Vets began to appear on the streets. One of the featured men in “Murderball”, Joe Soares, a former quad-rugby player turned coach, maintains that his life would be different if his parents didn’t emigrate from Portugal. Remembering the ethos of decades past, as a polio victim he would have been sequestered from sight. The progress this community has made over the decades is enormous. However, we, as the rest of society, are unaware of these steps; taking it for granted that we are physically able to go wherever we want, and easily so.

I was first exposed to physical disability when a ramp was installed in our garage so my father’s friends and colleagues from work could enter the house on their own, often joining him in loud, ranting play by plays during weekend Red Sox games. During his tenure as Executive Director for the Boston Center for Independent Living, my father was one of many instrumental in implementing the Americans with Disabilities Act set forth in 1990. Beginning as a small company in the back of a True Value hardware store, BCIL subsisted on donations, United Way grants and a handful of truly committed people. These centers were created to teach self-advocacy, lobby for increased housing, jobs and education for those living with disabilities. Remember that up until this time, there were no buses equipped with elevators, ramped sidewalks or designated parking spots. With the exception of the Architecture Barriers Act of 1968 in which any new construction of federal buildings required accessibility, most of the world was not.

While we meet a group of extraordinary men who have overcome extreme difficulties, reflecting on their tragic circumstances with gratitude, the filmmakers take a pointed unsympathetic view on their subjects, a directive which prompts reviewers to colorfully describe the featured players as everyday guys, like, “Hey, they’re just like you and me! They’re ballsy, athletic and talk trash about sex!” Even the Rolling Stone review qualifies by apologetically stating: “it’s about quadriplegics in wheelchairs – but wait, it's not depressing!”

Obvious and ignorant as it sounds, the sentiment requires attention. The other day, I mentioned “Murderball” to a friend of mine, who immediately shook her head “I can’t watch that film!” Society’s blinders prevent people from seeing this film. We naturally gravitate towards subjects we want to look like, act like, dress like, and be like, not people who don’t function like we do. It’s the fear of simultaneously feeling gratitude and guilt for being “normal”.

All of the reviews I’ve read glow with keen admiration because, let’s face it, how many people have actually seen wheelchair sports? Or knew that the Paralympics have taken place the week following the Olympics since 1960 and in 2004, counted 136 countries representing 25 sports categories? It’s impressive. But what truly sets this documentary apart is how the film itself transcends disability, a feat that provokes an unambiguous connection, prompting us to look inward. How do we overcome that which holds us back? How do we harness the actual strength of spirit each of us possess; strength we rarely tap.

This point is dramatically made when we meet Joe’s 11-year old son Robert, a bookish violinist who doesn’t carry his father’s athletic gene and we witness Joe’s harsh treatment as if Robert were the one with a disability because he’s not like him. The chair doesn’t hold Joe back, his inability to see his son’s unique gifts does. Joe’s growing awareness is a poignant moment, speaking to the binary relationships we have with our parents, our children, the care we want from them and perhaps, how they, in turn give care, especially when the shit hits the fan.

The film isn’t about a bunch of guys crashing around like gladiators and talking about picking up chicks at bars. It’s about people whose dreams were stripped away from them in an instant and how they created new dreams for themselves. It’s about the ability to see ourselves for who we can be and the courage to harvest our character. It’s about love and service. It’s about a small, but valuable percentage of the world’s population making progress with courage and the desire to make life a little easier for themselves and others to come.

In a world constantly blinking by with new episodes of CSI and Jaguar models, it’s easy to become myopic to remarkable ways in which the world has evolved. It reminds of me of that Margaret Mead quote “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed people can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has”.

The “R” rating and the subject itself is killing “Murderball” at the box office. I encourage you to see this film. I challenge you. Bring your friends, bring your children and tell your neighbors about it. You can handle the sex talk and the swearing, and I promise, you’ll walk away inspired that world is a better place.

For me, watching “Murderball” was an earnest reminder of my father, his passion for his work and the community he hoped to build for all people.