Practice was fun, and she had moments of skill/luck and many moments of darts missing the board and hitting the floor. (Truth be told, now that I am out of practice, I throw about the same as her.) We got to the tournament a day earlier than everyone else and we introduced her to the new dart boards so she would feel comfortable.
She had her SWAG hat and SWAG t-shirt (as did Rob) and we had repeatedly discussed with her that it wasn't important that she win, just that she tried and had fun with Dad. As many times as Rob wins at darts, there are plenty of times when he doesn't and we thought we had explained it enough to Abby that having fun was the goal.
But Abby wanted a trophy. And she was not going to be denied.
The rules of the tournament were that the child and adult took turns throwing, trying to take their score from 501 down to exactly zero. When they got close to winning, the child had to be the one to hit the final dart. The tournament directors actually modified the event right before it started and made it easier for the kids to win the game.
Abby and Rob played well in her first match, which was Best of 3. (First team to win 2 games moves on) They actually played a friend of ours and his daughter, which was nice. Abby and Rob did not win their first match (I can't even type the "L" word) and had to next play another team who did not win in the first match.
Long story short (and I can't bear to write all the details), they didn't win. She didn't seem to be too upset about losing at the time, though.
Abby went to check the chart to see when they would play next and I called her over to explain that everyone gets two losses, and then they are done.
That didn't go well.
She started to cry loudly and Rob and other members of our family rushed her out of the room while I stayed to explain to the woman running the chart what was happening. I tearfully told her about Abby's autism and she teared up with me. I quickly exited and found Abby in the hall, surrounded by her loved ones, still crying. When I got there, Rob escaped to the bathroom because he was overcome with emotion and needed to cry himself. He felt like he let her down - my heart was broken for them both.
My brother and brother-in-law both tried to make her laugh with stories of their many losses over the weekend. Tournament officials checked up on us and told Abby that someone wanted to talk to her. It was Johnny K, the Number 1 ranked American dart shooter, who was running the event. He tried his best to comfort her with stories of losing and continuing to practice to improve. He also said he had a medal for her, but he would get it to her after his next match.
Eventually, Abby calmed down enough to go inside with Uncle Pat, her godfather and wait for her medal. She got her medal, thanked the tournament directors and we went home.
Which brings me to the biggest doubt any parent of a special needs child has: Am I challenging them enough? Am I pushing too hard? Will I ever have all the answers?
Would Abby have been better off never trying to play darts? I don't think so. Could we have prepared her for possibly losing more? Maybe. Will things ever go the way I expect them to? Never. Will I ever stop second guessing myself. Not a chance.
"Team Swag" at the beginning of the event
Usually, blogging about something makes me feel better. Not so today.
Happier days are coming.
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