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J-Mac Gets a Shot
It was a blustery winter night in Greece, New York -- cold enough to keep most people indoors. But outside the McElwain home, someone was bouncing a ball repeatedly against the asphalt, oblivious to the frigid air.It was Jason, a string bean of a teenager, dressed lightly against the February chill, doing what he loved most: shooting hoops.
No matter the weather, Jason practiced basketball, if not at home or at the Y, then at his high school, Greece Athena. As a junior, he tried out for the varsity team, but Jason is autistic, and, lacking the fine coordination and strength of the other players, he didn't make it. He practiced harder and tried out again as a senior, only to be met with the same disheartening result. But because Jason's passion for basketball was so intense, the coach found a way for him to stay in the game -- as the Trojans' team manager. It was Jason's job to hand out water and offer his teammates major doses of moral support.
The Trojans enjoyed a solid season, playing 17 games and coming away with 12 victories -- which was why, for their final home game, coach Jim Johnson asked his popular manager to suit up. As a surprise to Jason, he planned to let him play. With just four minutes left on the clock and the Trojans with a comfortable lead, Johnson called number 52 onto the court.
A stunned Jason fumbled his first shot badly, missing by six feet. He missed again with the second. Then suddenly, the 17-year-old made a clean hoop shot. He kept shooting, one basket after another, until he'd scored six three-pointers and one two-pointer for a total of 20 points. Applause filled the gymnasium as members of the crowd surged forward to lift Jason onto their shoulders. Coach Johnson actually wept, and Jason's classmates waved signs with the boy's face on them, screaming, "J-Mac, J-Mac," Jason's nickname. The kid who lived for basketball but was never picked for the team was suddenly the most unexpected streak shooter in high school hoops history.
J-Mac became an instant celebrity, winning headlines across the country. Highlights of his streak were shown repeatedly on TV news and ESPN. Movie offers poured in from Hollywood studios, and last July, Jason won the ESPY Award for Best Moment in sports.
"Though I knew it wasn't going to be me, I never thought Jason would be the one in our family to become famous," his dad, David, a sales tax audit manager, says with a laugh. But Jason's feat on the basketball court was hardly the first dramatic moment in his life.
The younger of two boys born to David and Debbie McElwain, Jason seemed a normal infant. Then, when he was six months old, everything changed. Jason became rigid if held; he soon stopped making eye contact and was completely unresponsive when he was rocked. "I knew something was wrong," says Debbie, a dental hygienist. Though her husband and other relatives told her not to worry, Debbie couldn't avoid comparing Jason's development with that of his brother, Josh, older by 18 months. "Josh talked a lot at age two," she says. "At the same age, Jason just sat in a corner and played with his fingers or flapped his arms obsessively."
David and Debbie, fearing the worst, took Jason to Strong Children's Hospital in Rochester for a complete evaluation. There, doctors diagnosed the boy with severe autism. Affecting some 1.5 million Americans, autism is the country's fastest-growing developmental disability, although scientists do not know why. Jason also suffers from learning disabilities and has an IQ of 70.
Debbie, who became her son's personal warrior, says, "I was determined to get him out of it." Having discovered that with early intervention, there is a chance a severely autistic child can become high functioning, she enrolled Jason, at age three, in an intensive special ed program. She also worked to keep him stimulated at home and talked to him ceaselessly. When he wouldn't eat or drink, she'd flick the lights to distract him, then slip food into his open mouth. She made sure the only toys Jason received were the interactive kind.
Despite Debbie's efforts, Jason, at age five, still appeared locked in a world of noncommunication. Then, one afternoon as Debbie was preparing dinner, Josh called out from the other room. "Mommy, Mommy, come quick. I think Jason said something."
She rushed into the family room, where her younger son was watching Sesame Street. She knelt down, cupped Jason's face in her hands and begged him, "Say it. Say it again."
"Big Bird," murmured Jason as the world's most famous fowl danced across the screen.
"Big Bird," repeated Debbie, tears streaming down her face. "I knew that if Jason said just one word, it meant he would be able to speak," she says. "He would come out of his silence." Slowly he added other words to his vocabulary and began to communicate verbally.
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