What it really takes to take me out to the ballgame
Planning for stadium accessibility is one thing, but parking matters, too
If you’re American and have attended a baseball game, then I imagine you’ve probably heard the song “Take Me Out to the Ball Game.” Known as the most beloved song in baseball, this classic tune has been an anthem of summer for decades. For most, it’s joyous. It’s carefree and always sets the tone for an exciting day of peanuts, Cracker Jack, and baseball.
However, as someone living with spinal muscular atrophy (SMA), the logistics behind taking me out to the ballgame are a little less carefree and a little more carefully orchestrated.
I was reminded of this truth a few weeks ago when my family celebrated my nephew’s eighth birthday by going to a game of the Worcester Red Sox, the Triple-A affiliate of the Boston team. Growing up, my parents took my brother and me to many of these games, so I was looking forward to making new memories with my niece and nephews. I’d never been to the Worcester stadium or Worcester area, as the team had relocated to there from my home state, Rhode Island, in 2021. But I knew exactly how to plan for it.
Research before sports
Living with SMA means I don’t have the luxury of going somewhere new without doing my research first. The most important question I always ask myself is whether the place I’m heading to is accessible.
With the recent baseball game, I knew it was. What I didn’t know, however, was the location of the closest entrance to the elevators, where those elevators were situated, and how far they were from my seats. When considering accessibility, I also need to factor in my energy levels. Driving my wheelchair long distances tires me out, so I need to figure out whether somebody has to drive for me.
Of course, accessibility is more than just entrances and elevators. It’s having ramps that aren’t too steep, doorways and corridors that are wide enough for my wheelchair to fit through, bathrooms that I can easily access, and knowing that when a place is marked as “accessible,” it doesn’t always mean it is. So often have I arrived at a place only to find out their accessible establishment has a small step to get in. I now know to rely on Google Maps and pictures posted on the internet to guide my research a bit further.
Once I checked stadium accessibility off my list, the next hurdle I had to conquer was figuring out where to park. The stadium didn’t have a main parking lot, which, quite frankly, is a horror show for someone in a wheelchair. So I visited the website’s parking webpage and noted which streets had accessible parking. It also advised that there were limited spots available.
Alas, we had to park about a quarter of a mile away. Unfortunately, a handicapped placard doesn’t always ensure I’ll get a spot that’s safest for my needs. Not only does the spot need to have space for my van’s side ramp to come down, but I also need a spot that’s close to where I’m going, because of my low energy levels. Thankfully, my dad offered to drive my wheelchair to the entrance.
Though accessibility and parking were my main concerns on this particular day, I’ve faced many more obstacles when going out in public. Sometimes, the weather impedes my ability to drive my wheelchair safely. Other times, a caregiver falls through at the last minute, leaving me to either cancel my plans or find someone else to assist me. I need to factor in my energy levels and medication times to ensure there are no issues while I’m away from home.
In some ways, I envy those who can spontaneously grab their things and go — who only have to worry about trivial matters like what they’re going to wear or what type of entrées are on the menu at the restaurant they’re heading to.
Nevertheless, these barriers don’t keep me from leaving the house. Living with SMA may mean navigating spaces that may not be inclusive for people like me, but it also means I’ve learned how to be resourceful, adaptable, and determined to show up anyway. Despite the extra work it took to take me out to the ballgame, I had a wonderful time with my family.
Note: SMA News Today is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or other qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of SMA News Today or its parent company, Bionews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to spinal muscular atrophy.
About the Author
Dennis Turner
I haven't tried a ballgame, but concerts, even at "accessible" venues, are always a challenge with poor parking, too many people and often unexpected obstacles which others never have to deal with. Additionally sometimes seats are just more expensive than the cheap seats I might have used prior to needing handicapped seats.
Alyssa Silva
Yes, I have similar experiences at concerts too. Don't even get me started on too many people. Anytime I'm in a crowded place, people have no problem cutting in front of me as if my wheelchair could not seriously hurt them. It's incredibly stressful due to the inconsiderate behavior of others. It's as if I'm not even there, but then it's my fault if I hit someone. Although I must say, I don't think I've hit many people in my lifetime. Maybe a couple of times. (But they probably deserved it. 😂)