Viewpoints

Jul 17 2010

Elevated Boss

Over the years, I have certainly seen my share of Yankees – past and present – as well as famous broadcasters, sportswriters, and assorted celebrities adorning the private lobby at George M. Steinbrenner Field in Tampa, Florida during Spring Training. One day before a game, I entered this lobby – as all disabled guests are permitted to use the elevator inside to get to the seating level – and right in front of me stood the stadium’s namesake himself, the legendary owner of the New York Yankees, the man known as The Boss. I was seconds away from an encounter with George Steinbrenner himself! This happened several years ago, shortly before his health went into rapid decline and he was still large and in charge.

The elevator doors slid open and Steinbrenner darted in ahead of me. After all, it was his elevator and he should go first, right? Anyhow, he stepped to the rear and waited patiently for a few guests and me to hop in. We reached the upper level and I began my exit as The Boss looked on. As I was backing out my large power wheelchair, a small flock of stadium vendors, ushers and assorted personnel – all employed by Steinbrenner and the Yankees – ignored my struggle and began to plow into the elevator. Seeing that they were not giving me any room to move, The Boss emphatically ordered them to disperse. “Get out of the way”, he shouted angrily at one particularly rude employee, “Can’t you see the man’s in a wheelchair???” Fearing the owner’s wrath, everybody scampered hurriedly out of my path.

Through that single outburst in true Boss fashion, I got to witness two sides of George Steinbrenner first-hand. I saw the fiery, authoritative, hard-nosed, intolerant team owner whom I had always read about in the papers, as well as the big man with the soft heart who often went unpublicized. It was at that precise moment when I realized that a great man is not measured by wealth or power or championships or free-agent signings. He is not measured by newspaper headlines or dominance in sport and business or worldwide attention. The true mark of a great man is compassion. And The Boss had plenty of it, as evidenced by his crude, yet still compassionate, elevator tirade. George Steinbrenner was looking out for someone less fortunate in some respects, and that just raised his already high stature in my eyes.

When I heard the news of his passing this week, I totally ignored all the pomp and circumstance that was the public George Steinbrenner and simply remembered him fondly as the man who cleared the way. Thank you, Boss!

By Scott F. Sands • Life, Viewpoints • 6

Oct 22 2009

Gimp Fraud

I hate fakers! You know, those sick individuals who pretend to be disabled and steal our special parking spaces and designated seating areas at concerts, sporting and other events? In other words, those who commit what I call gimp fraud. Well, I spotted one of those fakers last Sunday at the Tampa Bay Buccaneers game. In fact, the phony was sitting in the wheelchair right beside of me! She didn’t look like a gimp or act like a gimp, but being a gimp myself, I know one when I see one, and this gal was definitely not a gimp. The perfect posture, the spry demeanor, and the generic drugstore wheelchair were all dead giveaways. If she could jump to her feet for every score, interception, fumble recovery, sack, penalty and controversial call, then she really didn’t need that wheelchair. Gimp fraud! If she could stand and cheer on the defense for an entire set or two of downs, then she really didn’t need that wheelchair. Gimp fraud! If she was able to walk effortlessly back and forth to the concession stand for beer countless times during the game, then she really didn’t qualify as a true wheelchair user. Major gimp fraud! And if she was not actually wheelchair-dependent, then she had absolutely no business buying a ticket in the wheelchair section of the stadium. Still, she impersonated a gimp to secure premium seats in the sold-out lower bowl. This despicable woman obviously borrowed Granny’s wheelchair for a few convenient hours. I bet she even took Granny’s handicapped parking placard to get a reserved spot closest to the stadium. Hey, if she can cure me of Duchenne muscular dystrophy and make it that I can walk and run and jump again, I will gladly give her my wheelchair and parking permit! I’ll even throw in my handicapped van for good measure. That way, she will really be able to pull off her little gimp scam!

Seriously, those who commit gimp fraud should be ashamed of themselves! Instead of swiping the privileges given to actual disabled individuals and exploiting a system designed to make our lives a little bit easier, these imposters should appreciate the fact that they are healthy enough not to need special accommodations. I just wish they could be stuck in a wheelchair for a day or two with the inability to perform even the simplest of tasks without assistance. Give them a taste of the struggles we face on a daily basis and see how they like it! Or we could just shoot the fakers.

By Scott F. Sands • Disability, Viewpoints • 9

Sep 6 2009

Begging For Charity

It is that time again! The Jerry Lewis MDA Telethon is in full force! Tune in to witness an amazing spectacle of laughter and entertainment. And don’t forget to break out the Kleenex and your wallets for the tear-jerking parts!

Wait, I promised myself that I would not go off on the Telethon again this year. I wouldn’t want to ruffle any feathers.

I mean, sure, I could remind you all of how the Smell-A-Thon robs those of us with muscular dystrophy of our dignity. Of course, I could tell you again how the Smell-A-Thon falsely portrays us as sickly, needy, totally useless little kiddies and keeps us from getting proper respect as human beings. I could certainly go on about how much money is raised during the Smell-A-Thon year after year and how there is still no cure for this horrible disease. I could always rant over the fact that MDA executives continue to enjoy the good life with their luxurious homes and fancy cars while Jerry’s Kids continue to die in droves. However, I have chosen to refrain from making any sarcastic or derogatory remarks about Jerry Lewis, the Muscular Dystrophy Association or the Telethon. Instead, I would like to turn the tables and focus on those people who contribute their hard-earned cash to the Smell-A-Thon.

It is unfortunate that Jerry Lewis has to go out there before a national audience and shamelessly beg and plead and put on an entire Vaudevillian extravaganza just to raise money to help his Kids. All he really should have to do is lay out the facts about muscular dystrophy and explain that it is a killer, and ask viewers for money to fight it. Sounds rather elementary, huh? Too bad it doesn’t work that way in the real world. Fact is that the majority of those who send money expect something in return. They want a good show. They want to see celebrities, singers and dancers, comedians, jugglers and ventriloquists. They want to have their heartstrings manipulated, and let out a good cry. And don’t forget that big old tax write-off. After all, nothing says benevolence more than a nice, juicy government tax deduction! How many folks out there are much more inclined to drop a few coins into a beggar’s bucket if that beggar is playing a shiny harmonica? Most people will not part their cash unless they get a little something for their charity. Why must they seek some sort of compensation for kindness? Whatever happened to finding a good cause dear to your heart, and giving?

Problem is that there are so many worthy causes, and no one could possibly give to all of them. So they are forced to pick and choose specific ones to support. And it seems that the organizations with the tightest emotional hold and finest entertainment get the most carrots. Luckily for MDA, Jerry Lewis has always been a master showman on the Smell-A-Thon stage, and he recruits some of the best second-rate personalities and performers to join him.

I find it somewhat disheartening, though, to know that most people have such a difficult time with opening their hearts and checkbooks to help others. It is sad that so many people have to be coerced into supporting a worthy cause. Jerry Lewis has no choice but to put on a good show, because if he fails, MDA might just go broke. And if that happens, muscular dystrophy patients will have to pay for their own flu shots and MDA executives will have to start drinking club soda instead of Perrier.

By Scott F. Sands • Viewpoints • 10

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