CASE STUDY
RYAN DACK
Most of my summer nights as a child were spent with my cousins. Mucking around, making mud pies, play fighting, getting hit in the face with a wet football and feeling the sting for the next half hour. I knew I was different, but I wasn’t particularly bothered by it. It was only towards the end of Primary School and heading into Secondary School that I started to realise just how much my disability prevented me from doing things. I couldn’t play football in the playground because I was too weak. I couldn’t play dodgeball in the hall because I was too slow. I couldn’t take part in cross country because I didn’t have the stamina. Reflecting upon my Primary School years I soon realised that I’d played a lead role in the age-old stereotype of being picked last for the team.
After so many years of not being able to play sport – my entire time in secondary school, college and even mid-way through a degree – I resigned myself to never being able to do so. I briefly researched wheelchair basketball, but I soon realised that a huge amount of upper body strength was needed; strength that I just didn’t have. Playing sport seemed like an impossible task. One I’d never overcome.
Then, I found Powerchair Football. Or, rather, Powerchair Football found me!
I was at my bi-annual check-up with the specialists when my mother pointed out a poster on the wall advertising “Powerchair Football Grassroots Taster Sessions – Middlesbrough PFC” – inviting people to come and give it a go. Honestly, I shrugged it off and said – “nah, I’m good, it’ll probably be rubbish anyway” and went about my day. My parents proceeded to hound me for the rest of the week. Telling me I might enjoy it. It will be nice to get out of the house. I’ll meet new friends. I might even be good at it.
In the end, I caved. Not because of their reasoning, but just to stop them going on about it!
When younger I enjoyed having a kick about with my brothers in the garden, other than that I wasn’t a massive fan of football as a whole. The money, disrespect and general demeanour of footballers bothered me – it still does to this day. So, the thought of enjoying Powerchair Football didn’t even cross my mind. Going to the taster session was nothing more than a means to an end. I was wrong. I can honestly say that the minute I sat down in my first chair – a Storm – I was hooked. It was surprising to me, especially after never having a real interest in football.
Soon after the taster sessions, I was asked to join the team that would enter the National League and encouraged to start raising funds for my own sports chair. It occurred to me that I may actually – for the first time in my life – be good at a sport. Before we knew it, after a short period of training, we were in Nottingham playing in the Championship division. Now, I’m not going to beat around the bush – we were atrocious. I narrowly avoided a red card in my first ever competitive match for going around the back of the goal post – the referee showed mercy upon my soul and made it a yellow card.
A few more seasons passed – I’d raised the funds to get my own sports chair (a lovely couple held a football tournament fundraiser after seeing my story in the local newspaper and the Royal British Legion donated the rest of the funds) – and we started to come into our own.