For Matt Frey, the glass is half full
Adam Cahill
A Domer's Outlook
Editor's Note: The words in this column are interpretations of the author and not those of Matt Frey directly.
It's dark and cold, but somehow the pedals keep moving in response to my churning legs. They fight against the oncoming wind and I struggle to keep the bike balanced. This impossibly chilly Monday morning in January makes no promise of getting better, either. Everything is dark, the trees are barren and even the Holy Mother seems to be cold on top of the Golden Dome. South Bend can't get much more depressing. The wind whips around me in a whirling howl, and the sleet makes it impossible to see clearly as I travel from O'Neill Hall across South Quad to the pool. This is miserable, especially at this early hour, but I'll get through it. I always have and I've made it through situations much worse than this before.
I remember the ear infections and bronchitis that landed me in the hospital just over a month ago and the continuous complications with my health in recent years. Those were bad, but growing up I faced more. Those instances are hard to remember now, if not impossible, because I was so young. A part of me is thankful for the holes in the past that memory provides us. I'm so glad that I can't remember the things I've had to go through. The memories would just be something else I would have to overcome. But undoubtedly, I would.
There are the countless surgeries to my hands where doctors mistakenly severed tendons to my fingers, leaving them helpless. And of course I can't forget the amputation of my left leg below the knee. That must have been hard on my parents, just like everything else. Walking on a prosthesis hasn't been so bad though. Like everything, things are never as bad as they seem.
But all of those thoughts fade away from my memory and into the dark Indiana landscape. It doesn't matter what I have to overcome now or what has happened in the past. I don't think about those thing now, there's no reason to be counterproductive by dwelling on them. Those things are the past and can't be helped. I am who I am, and no amount of good or bad luck can change that. I am getting the chance to do what I love — attend Notre Dame, swim among their varsity mens swimming team and be a Special Olympics volunteer — and for the opportunity to do that, no one could be more thankful.
And of course, I have goals to work toward. I'm not at practice everyday to be a cheerleader. But I think that 16 days in the summer of 2004 would be well spent in Athens, Greece as a part of the Paralympics. I came up short in 2000 at the Olympic Trials, not making the team because of an obscure point system, but I think I can do it. In fact, I know I can.
The two American records that I set this past weekend just aren't enough, though. I want the gold. I'm swimming with a bunch of guys who are gracious enough to let me practice among them even if we all know I am not suited to keep the pace. No one says anything, but no one needs to. I know I can't keep up most of the time, but at least they let me try. The opportunity to try is all I can ask for.
They will help me get the gold in Paralympics in 2004. They keep me going during the tough times and have even given me a customary team nickname.
Yes, I say to myself as I pass the stadium, it is a good morning.
I've got to get to practice as fast as I can so I can be cheerful for the team. Hopefully I will do some good by being a smiling face at 5:30 in the morning. I can't overdo it though. I have to remember that it's very early in the morning and there is a clear line between being friendly and being annoying. I want to do whatever I can, whenever I can. Those guys are so special to me; I just hope they can recognize that. Something tells me they can, though.
I go to all their swim meets and announce at them. Some people even like the way I announce, even though I am incredibly biased towards my Notre Dame friends. But who can blame me? I love those guys and am incredibly proud of them. Hopefully I can make them just as proud of me.
My name is Matt "Slappy" Frey, I am the voice of the men's Irish swimming team and I am living a dream.
Adam Cahill is a junior history and American Studies major and can be reached at acahill@nd.edu. On behalf of the swim team he would like to thank Matt for subjecting us to his determination, perseverance and total selflessness. He is truly a Notre Dame man and we are very proud of him.
The views expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of The Observer.
All Viewpoint Stories for Wednesday, January 15, 2003
