INTO THE CINCINNATI
ALM No.77, June 2025
ESSAYS
Introduction
For my Cincinnati sports fans, did you know that the city is named after an organization for former Revolutionary War officers called the Society of the Cincinnati?
One of the original aims of the Society of the Cincinnati was to network with fellow Revolutionary War veterans and support each other & their families (The Society of the Cincinnati, n.d.). The organization’s name refers to a Roman general named Lucius Quinctius Cincinnatus. Cincinnatus, a retired general, was called back into service by the Roman Senate to thwart an invasion attempt by Aequians. He leads his legion to victory over the Aqueans, but he quickly resigns his dictatorial leadership and returns to the farm to resume his retirement with his family (Cincinnatus, 2024).
This story sounds familiar; it reminds me of Maximus from Gladiator. As a general, he always dreamed of completing his duties and retiring to his farm to reunite with his wife and son. He continued to have similar visions of reuniting with his wife and son to a more peaceful’ (after)life after he transitioned into a slave and gladiator.
However, you can also compare Cincinnatus to the desired journeys of former student-athletes and professional athletes like myself. We live for the daily grind of practice, prepping our minds and bodies for battle. We get excited when the crowd cheers us on, supporting every great play we make and our commitment to winning & excellence. We, the athletes, give all we have on the playing field. We enjoy the team and individual allocations, including more accessible access to the dating pool, free food and drinks, and respect among our peers. We dream of retirements where we just relax with our families, get into what Pro Football Hall of Fame coach Chuck Noll called our “life’s work” (Associated Press, 2014), and share battle stories and scars with our teammates (or anyone who would listen).
I thought I could play organized sports for a very long time until my late 30s, be the first autistic college and professional gridiron football player, and worry about my future after I retire and enjoy the fruits of my labor. If I am blessed with longevity like Iron Mike Tyson, Terrific Tom Brady, or Darrell Green, I will keep playing until I die or am eligible for AARP. I wanted to have that type of journey, peaking at a glorious ending and prosperous retirement.
Yet, here I am in my version of the Society of the Cincinnati. I still have stories; some are excellent or silly recollections of my sporting journey, but I regret what could have been if I had the opportunity to play Division I ball and try my hand at a professional football league. Knoll once said about life after professional football, “I can tell you it is not your life. You can't let it be. Part of my job is to help you find your life's work” (Associated Press, 2014). I cannot blame my coaches for not helping me find my life’s work. My coaches are one of the main reasons I advocate for including people with disabilities in intercollegiate and professional sports; they gave this autistic kid a chance to shine and contribute in football (both flag and tackle), basketball, baseball, and track and field up until my senior year in high school. Vic Adamle, a running back and walk-on coach at the University of Minnesota when I was in college, supported my attempt to walk on the football team. Despite this, finding my life's work took me a while because my dream of playing football past high school ended much more prematurely than planned. I didn’t find my life’s work until I moved to Atlanta for my first master’s degree, and I didn’t land a full-time position until well into my 30s.
Nonetheless, I am in the neurodivergent athletic Society of Cincinnati. I’ve found my life after sports, and for the rest of the essay, I will highlight my journey of life after sports as an autistic man. In the first two sections, I will dive deeper into how I got into sports in the first place, my involvement in organized sports, and the day that changed my sports path. Next, I will dedicate two more sections to illustrating my attempts to keep my dreams of playing pro sports alive, realizing my new reality of life after sports, and how I can now use my passion for sports in my current career as a researcher-artist-advocate. I will spend the last section of the essay speculating possible ways organizations can better prepare neurodivergent student-athletes for life after athletics.
Sports Background
Before discovering my passion and special interest in sports, I considered myself born into that passion. My mother played 16-inch softball for the all-women's team FORCE (Chicago 16” Softball Hall of Fame) in the 80s; I used to wear her jacket and jersey all the time as a kid. Meanwhile, my father used to play a lot of basketball, and he is the sports encyclopedia, where he can talk about statistics and inside information about various teams and players. He once told tales about playing against Keena Turner (who went on to help the San Francisco 49ers win three Super Bowls in the 80s) on the basketball courts in his teens. Sports was always in my blood.
I recall a few instances as a toddler when I got hooked on getting involved in sports. I was intrigued by how offensive and defensive football formations looked on video or live games. Though I didn’t know how the formations worked until I played football in high school, I knew where each player would line up and how many people must be on the line of scrimmage.
And, then, it was the toys I either chose to play with or somehow convinced my family to buy me. I enjoyed wearing the kiddie version of the Neal Anderson football kit, pretending to run, pass, and kick. I would have my big brother, godbrothers, friends, and cousins play mini golf and indoor basketball with me. However, that also irritated our neighbor Missus Mildred when we disturbed her peace with our fierce, loud games. Our games would stop after we heard Missus Mildred knocking on the ceiling below my room with a broom, prompting us to find a quieter activity to play. Or, when I wasn’t playing mini-sports, I liked to hide in the football-shaped toybox.
Have you wondered how Mom calmed me down?
She popped in some Michael Jordan highlight tapes; I would watch Come Fly with Me 1990 and Michael Jordan’s Playground 1,000 times. Side note: if I like a TV show, documentary, or movie, I will watch it repeatedly and get to the point where I can either narrate the whole clip or remember a few quotes verbatim. I became a fan of my first love, basketball, because of following the Bulls and Jordan’s career throughout the 90s.
The 90s Bulls/Michael Jordan highlights ignited my passion for consuming and analyzing any documentary, podcast, blog, or non-fiction work about sports and culture. I follow works such as the 30 for 30 series, SportsCentury, the Dark Side of the Ring, and videos from Flemlo Raps, KTO, and JaguarGator9 because I get to dive into the logistics, culture, and multi-layered storylines of my favorite sports like American football, hockey, and more.
Another pre-organized sports influence was my sanctuary, the backyard area at the apartment complex where my mother, my big brother, and I lived. It was the site of my first taste of inclusion. I was subjected to getting my shot blocked just like everyone else while playing 21 on the makeshift alley basketball court. I received my fair share of tackles playing kill-a-man (with the ball) or backyard football. I’ve gotten my ass kicked in NBA Jam or any video games by cousins, godbrothers, and friends in tourneys on the backyard patio. I didn’t mind any of those obstacles because at least I got to experience inclusive sports play and learn ways to stand out with my skills.
Living the Student-Athlete Life
Between ages 7 and 19, all I knew was how to be a good and serviceable student-athlete in sports offered at schools, Special Olympics, churches, college enrichment programs, and Chicago Park District after-school programs. I’ve played the following sports:
● Touch Football
● Flag Football
● Knee Football
● Floor Hockey
● Baseball
● Softball
● Junior Lifeguard Competition
● Bowling
● Soccer
● Academic Decathlon
● Track and Field (including shot put)
● Basketball
● Wrestling
My mom called me “Mr. T.” because I would bring home many gold, silver, and bronze medals from my Special Olympics competitions. I even gave one to my baby sister, Briana. My teams, the Foster Park Flames and Fireballs, were regulars at state basketball, soccer, floor hockey tournaments, and city softball tournaments. I enjoyed those years when I helped my teams dominate in the competitions, though I was always one of the youngest players on the team.
I transitioned from Special Olympics to playing with non-disabled folks at Chicago Park District and church programs when I was 11-12. I “retired” from Special Olympics because I felt I’d achieved so much that there was only one challenge: compete against (mostly) non-disabled peers and see if I could duplicate the same success. I also “retired” in response to a grammar school classmate's comment about my Special Olympics medals, which still sticks with me. He said those medals looked like they were from a cereal box, and they just gave out them for mere participation. It pissed me off as a competitor because I have worked hard for those medals, along with my teammates, regardless if I was in the Special Olympics, AAU team, etc. My classmate also assumed that my competition was easy because of their invisible disabilities.
In the words of Michael Jordan….it became personal.
So I decided to focus my energy on playing with non-disabled peers, and though I may not have enjoyed as much team success as did with my teammates in the Foster Park therapeutic program, I still held my own. I often played basketball in summer programs at Foster Park and with my church. As a goalie for my after-school program floor hockey team, I helped lead them to a fourth-place finish in the Chicago Park District city tournament at McCormick Place in 2002. At Foster Park, I often performed in what we called gym and swimming shows, where we showcased our gymnastics, wrestling, and swimming abilities. I used to be in junior lifeguard competitions, too; I was a damned good swimmer. I still love to swim, though the only stroke I can do well is the breaststroke.
I continued to play sports in high school; I often had mostly As and Bs in the classroom, so I could be eligible to play and have a strong chance of getting recruited into a Division I football program. I was recognized by the National Football Foundation for my academics…I believe it was my junior or senior year in high school.
I played forward, sparingly, for my freshman and summer AAU teams; I later quit playing basketball after realizing that my defense-only skills wouldn’t cut it in a world where it helps to be highly skilled in offense and defense. I focused more on football, which ended up being my best and favorite sport to play. I played all four years: two on junior varsity and two on varsity. I enjoyed my best season as a senior, where I recovered a fumble, started a few games, and got more accustomed to making tackles in the backfield. My position was mainly defensive tackle, though nose tackle was my natural position because I got to see how and when the center snaps the ball so I could get a better jump.
I also had the chance to help a kid train for the upcoming football season in the summer of 2004.
I enjoyed playing football because I enjoyed the physicality of it all, the physical battles in the trenches, the chess game in which defense can outsmart the offense (and vice versa), and the camaraderie among teammates. I’ve learned life lessons from playing sports (especially football), such as overcoming adversity, thinking outside the box in fast-paced situations, knowing that everyone has a contributing role to play, and maturing mentally and spiritually.
I also joined the track and field team and competed in the Academic Decathlon. I set the school shot put record at the time, which was 30 ½ feet. I’m sure someone else has long destroyed my record, but that’s still something. I only participated in the Academic Decathlon during my senior year. Still, I helped my team go to the city championship stage, and I even won a medal or two for being one of the best in the science and math categories.
The End of My Sports Career Path
I dreamed of playing for the University of Minnesota after I went on a multi-college tour with people from a college enrichment program called the Office of Special Programs-College Prep. I fell in love with the Chicago-like atmosphere of Minneapolis and the beauty of the Minnesota part of campus. I also wanted to play defensive lineman or running back for head coach Glen Mason. His teams were exciting to watch, with the two-headed rushing attack of Marion “the Barbarian” Barber and “Kool-Aid” Laurence Maroney. I hoped that I could help Minnesota go to better bowl games or at least have the opportunity to shine on Saturdays and have a shot to be the first openly autistic player drafted into the NFL.
I had calls from Augustana College to play football and possibly track and field. I could have played there while getting a good education (or excelled there before transferring into a Division I or II program). However, I could attend the University of Minnesota without an athletic scholarship because I obtained the Gates Millenium Scholarship due to my academic excellence and undying desire to attend a Division I school. I was confident that I would keep my grades up regardless. It was finding a way to convince the coaches at Minnesota that I could walk on the team.
When I visited the campus with my mother, we stopped by the football practice facility and met with the walk-on and running backs coach, Vic Adamle. I sent the coaching staff my highlight tape before the visit. My mother asked Coach Adamle if he or the coaching staff had coached “people from special education programs before”; he said yes.
Promising, I thought.
Coach Adamle suggested that if I want to walk on and play my dream position, defensive lineman, I must maintain a 3.0 GPA, work on my upper body strength, and train for 2007 spring practices. He was pleased with my tape, though most of the tape highlighted fundamentals rather than awesome plays (besides the fumble recovery during the first game of the 2005 season against Carver Military Academy).
I was super pumped! I had the chance to attend my dream college on an academic scholarship and the grand opportunity to play college football. All my hard work, the struggles for acceptance and inclusion, and the hardcore following of college and professional football are paying off. I dreamed of wearing the gold and maroon on Saturdays, making plays on the field, and getting the attention off the field. I was this close to either blocking for Amir Pinnix out in the backfield or helping improve the defense in any part of the defensive line.
I forever thank Dr. Larry Hawkins and the Office of Special Programs-College Prep staff for giving me a sweet opportunity during the summer before my freshman year. In exchange for working as a student-mentor at their summer program, they connected me with a basketball coach and former football player, Coach C, who trained me to prepare for spring training. When I arrived at the University of Minnesota, I frequently followed the exercise/diet program the college team’s strength coach gave me. By the winter of 2006-07, I went from 210 to 265 pounds while maintaining my cardiovascular endurance…plus, I maintained my 3.0 GPA requirement. I even met some players, including starting quarterback Bryan Cupito and defensive lineman Garrett Brown. I also met the head coach in passing.
I was ready to go! I was eager to live out my dreams and rock the gold and maroon football uniform every Saturday. I was a few yards away from being an intercollegiate autistic student-athlete.
But New Year’s Day 2006 changed my life forever.
The Minnesota Golden Gophers had a 6-7 record, which was good enough to get them a berth in the Insight Bowl. Their opponent was the Harrell Graham-led Texas Tech Red Raiders, the masters of the Air Raid offensive attack. We were leading 38-7 deep into the third quarter.
Just imagine….the Golden Gophers holding on to win the Insight Bowl, and most coaches will remain in the football program. Meaning I will soon join my teammates in spring training.
Suddenly, Texas Tech returned from a 31-point deficit to win the game, 44-41, in overtime. At the time, it was the greatest comeback in the history of bowl games.
Indeed, I was not only pissed at the choke job I witnessed, but I was also worried because it could mean that the coaching staff would be fired and my football future would be uncertain.
My worst fears came true on New Year’s Day 2007. Coach Glen Mason and the entire staff were fired. That included the one coach who believed in me, Coach Adamle.
Now what? Would the new staff even recognize my name? Would they let me continue my more defined path to spring practice to battle for a spot on the team, or would I have to try out just like any other walk-on? I don’t work well with uncertainty; I prefer a gist or short detailed hint of what’s going on so I can plan and adjust accordingly.
I did report to a team meeting when the spring semester started; I got to listen to the new head coach, Tim Brewster, pumping us up to get back to the Rose Bowl and win one. We haven’t gone to nor won the Rose Bowl since 1962 (Spoiler: we still haven’t done either as of 2024, and we practically sucked from 2007 to 2010 under “Play4Brew”). The staff then made role calls to the players; my name was not listed. So now I have to see the new staff, explain my situation, and see if I could even try out.
I haven’t gotten a response for a month. I didn’t train because I was uncertain when tryouts would be held or what to train for. I haven’t participated in a tryout since I attempted to play Small Fry basketball as a kid.
Tryouts took place in February. I underperformed in the running drills and didn’t even have the chance to showcase my defensive line skills to the new staff.
I didn’t make the team. I was told by the new walk-on coach that I gotta get bigger. No other tips.
Granted, I was already between 260-270. To the coaching staff, my 260-270 looked more like 220-240 if they didn’t know about my leg strength.
But it got worse while visiting the coaches’ offices to see when there was another opportunity to try out. While sitting down to meet with Coach Brewster to get another chance at a tryout, the walk-on coach spotted me and bellowed out,
“WHERE’S YOUR GAMEFACE?”
“The fuck?” I responded silently. Did he or any of the staff know that I am autistic and use that fact to see if I was ‘stupid’? The only indication of my autism was in a checkup required by all the walk-ons during Coach Mason’s reign; I disclosed my diagnosis to the team doctor.
Maybe I needed to be faster for the coaching staff, though I was never a speedster. I was quick off the ball when you put me in front of the center, where I can see and anticipate when he snaps the ball to the quarterback. I may have had the size but not the muscle. Or….maybe the coaching staff got a hold of the medical report and got scared when it said I’m autistic. I am a proponent for inclusion in college sports, but (though I disliked the feeling of being discriminated against) I can see why they were afraid to take an autistic student-athlete. Between the extra time needed to coach me up, insulating me from the hazing, and (potential) lack of knowledge of how autism manifests on the football field, I felt that they were not ready to tolerate or handle me. Not every coach is as inclusive and tolerant as a Coach Yates, Coach Kyle, Coach Ron, Coach Tron, Coach Mac, Coach Thomas, Coach Shiela, Coach Merrill, Coach Aldridge, or Coach Jay…any of the coaches who coached me in sports throughout the years. Even those reluctant to coach me eventually came around, learned more about me, and allowed me to contribute to the teams.
I never got the chance to try out again. I’ve tried to reach out to Coach Brewster for the next two years for another shot, but it never came to fruition.
My dream of being an autistic student-athlete on a Division I-A (now Football Bowl Subdivision) football team is over. I would never have the opportunity to sack quarterbacks, fill in gaps, make tackles, or recover fumbles. No golden pants or maroon helmet with the “M” for me. I can tell people I have almost made the team, but does it even matter? I have failed. I did not make it. My dream was deferred, rotted out like wood after a monsoon.
The Winding Path Back To Familiarity
This is my confession: despite doing well in college, enjoying independence, doing my thing in poetry and spoken word with Voices Merging, and being a part of several clubs (including being one of the first pledges in the Iota-Zeta chapter of Sigma Pi Fraternity International), I was a lost kid because the primary goal in college was taken away from me prematurely.
I was used to being popular in high school because of my many talents, including football. I didn’t mind being the Forrest Gump of Hyde Park Career Academy. My worth and identity were tied to organized sports, and I thought it would be my life for the next 10-20 years. I still would have had to figure out life after sports if I either stopped playing college ball or retired after playing professionally. But at least I would have gotten to enjoy my dream job, then use that (plus my bachelor’s degree in English) to find my passion in retirement…or maybe even just chill and enjoy the fruits of my labor.
Granted, I knew I could make a difference in the world regardless if I had the chance to play college football. I graduated and attended the University of Minnesota on a full-ride Gates Millennium Scholarship, not because I won all-state honors in football or track and field (which I honestly wasn’t good enough to get the wide attention of high school sports fans). Then I got two master’s degrees in writing and disability & human development and landed a sweet job as a researcher at UIC’s Institute on Disability and Human Development.
But outside of sports and art, I didn’t know where I could get a full-time job or find a career that I liked, which was as adventurous as football. I no longer had a purpose that I was captaining; I was just trying to fit into a neurotypical world where people get college degrees, establish careers, make money, and build families.
After I graduated from Minnesota, I moved to Atlanta to pursue my MFA in writing at Savannah College of Art and Design. Like at Minnesota, I’ve mostly excelled in my classes and master’s thesis; I started to learn more about photography and writing non-fiction, online/social media, & technical work. However, even after getting an MFA in 2014, I still had difficulties finding full-time employment.
My employment history is like the resume of a journeyman pass-rushing specialist. I can only manage to land gigs, seasonal, and part-time work (as much as 20 hours). Here are examples of jobs I’ve done between 2010 and 2016:
● Washing dishes at a country club for 1-3 days a week for $7.25/hr
● Taking pictures of passionate Auburn Tigers fans during the 2013 season
● Taking pictures of people sitting next to the Easter Bunny during the Easter season
● Working at a summer camp for people with disabilities as a public relations staff, where I
● I did freelance journalism for several companies, mostly writing to build my portfolio and as a volunteer.
○ Fun fact: I did write for Football.com in 2012 - 2014, writing opinion pieces on the Atlanta Falcons
I applied to many journalism and academic jobs…., but I failed! No callbacks. No interviews.
I even went to a job coach who was willing to help me improve my interviewing skills and resume. It didn’t help either because the coach insisted that I should work at a beginner-level position. Let’s be honest, when was the last time McDonald’s hired a two-time Master’s degree holder to flip burgers? I also couldn’t do menial labor for a living. Not because I can’t do the work; I can wash dishes perfectly, lift heavy objects, or set up chairs and tables. That’s regular house chores to me. However, the red flag is that I cannot work in fast-paced or noisy environments where people don’t like to give specific instructions. And because I had no work experience, I had no prior experience.
I was Boobie Miles before I found my Cincinnati. There were days when I wanted to cry to my family and support circles, exclaiming: “Now what are we going do? I can’t do nothing else but play football…I can’t be doing nothing else! I can’t do nothing else but play football! (Movieclips, 2011)”. Sports was all I ever cared about as my mission in life. Despite having the academic, creative, and leadership skills to figure it out, I didn't have a backup plan. The advocacy life chose me; I didn’t choose it.
Settling into my Cincinnati
Thankfully, Access Living of Metropolitan Chicago and the Institute on Disability and Human Development have given me a second career where I have started to find my life’s purpose outside of suiting up and hitting folks in the mouth weekly.
In 2015, my mother (though my mentor’s (Candace Coleman) encouragement), encouraged me to go to Access Living to seek job opportunities and participate in a self-advocacy/activist group called Advance Your Leadership Power (AYLP). I was bored at home anyway and had nothing to do or look forward to, so I attended an AYLP meeting.
Turns out, Mom and Candace have provided me with a career path! Through AYLP and similar organizations within the Chicagoland area, I started actively involved with self-advocacy. I started my blog, the Black Autist, where I write and create social media content about the intersections of Blackness and neurodivergence and do photojournalistic coverages of local direct actions. With AYLP I started by taking pictures of direct actions on combating budget cuts under Illinois Governor Bruce Rauner and cuts to special education in Chicago. As time passed, I took on more responsibilities, such as planning actions and campaigns, speaking at events, and meeting with legislators.
A few months later, in the fall of 2015, Candace invited Dorwhitem (DJ), Jaime (Jay), and me to a UIC Disability and Human Development mixer at Access Living. A small-time self-advocate like myself doesn’t belong in the same room as career scholars and advocates. But Candace saw something that I didn’t see: my potential to merge advocacy with my creativity in multimedia and pursuit of knowledge. Long story short, I connected with many DHD staff and faculty members, including my future mentor Akemi Nishida, and shared my advocacy journey and what I am doing for AYLP. I wouldn’t have gotten accepted into their graduate program without that meeting.
I’ve been a part of the DHD family since 2016. I have been a graduate student who obtained a Master of Science degree in Disability and Human Development, an Illinois LEND fellow, a graduate teaching and research assistant, a part-time research specialist, and, since 2021, a full-time visiting research associate (which also happened to be my first full-time job ever). I have grown accustomed to my role as a researcher-advocate. In addition, I’ve been getting more opportunities to speak about my autistic experience, consult with people on many disability topics, such as disability and race, and create works of art through my camera, keyboard, and social media content for hard-earned cash.
Some of the traits and lessons I’ve learned in football carried over into my second career. My coaches always praised me for my hard work and detailed attention to hone in on my fundamental skills in the trenches. In research, art, and self-advocacy circles, I am praised for my commitment to ensuring my craft's fundamentals are polished. I have learned to adjust on the fly in both football and my life’s work. And like the 1992 Buffalo Bills, I don’t know the meaning of the word “quit”; I find ways to rise from adversity, whether it is making the most out of my small frame as a defensive lineman or still fighting for my rights, justice, and freedom as an autistic person despite not always getting the support or understanding I want.
How to Help Former Neurodivergent Athletes Find Their Second Career, or “Life’s Work”
There are many neurodivergent people, like myself, who may never get a chance to play sports beyond high school but still want to stay close to the game because they love it very much.
One way that schools and organizations can better support former neurodivergent student-athletes is by recognizing that sports are some of their special interests that can translated into their life’s work or ticket to independent living. Perhaps your student-athlete may not wish to play college sports, but they have a knack for remembering plays and certain game-time tasks, or they can point out things in-game films that coaches may not notice. To neurodivergent student-athletes, it can be a way for them to “as well as helped them communicate and connect with others” (Long, 2024) in the sports field as well as making a living after their playing career is over. If I were that transition staff person, I would create a strength-based, special interest-centered plan (Bross and Travers, 2017) where the student-athlete and their support system express how their love for a certain sport, or certain aspects of sports, can help them through college and the rest of their lives. That student-athlete may find career paths in coaching, management, becoming a sports agent, or sports journalism, or they can translate their special interests into jobs such as working in a sports-themed restaurant, bar, or sporting goods store. Of course, it is also helpful to connect people to local, state, and national resources such as the Department of Rehabilitation Services, customized employment agencies, employers, small business hubs, colleges and universities, and more.
Another way to support student-athletes transitioning to their post-playing careers and life’s work is by connecting them to mentors and peers who can help them along the way. I’ve learned that the more support I have in figuring out my life’s work, the more motivated I am to seek the resources and opportunities to make it a reality. Plus, I can always use the wisdom from people who are familiar with the transition from sports to the real world as a former disabled or neurodivergent athlete.
Social media, writing, consulting, storytelling, and podcasts are another set of avenues for former neurodivergent athletes to transition into careers after sports. Many former disabled and neurodivergent pro-athletes like Shaquem Griffin (Griffin, 2022) and Brandon Marshall are using multimedia to not only make money but also as ways to bring to light topics that are seldom discussed in sports, including mental health, disability, and life after sports. I have written about the Atlanta Falcons during my time with Football.com, and I am now advocating for inclusive college and professional sports opportunities as a part of my research and advocacy work. I wrote a guidebook called Creating an Inclusive Intramural, Recreation, and Club Sports Program on Campus (Gordon, 2021), and I have created a social media campaign in which former high school student-athletes with disabilities can share their experiences and lessons learned from playing high school sports in inclusive environments (Gordon Jr, 2024; Gordon Jr, 2024).
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