Beyond Norms

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About Autism Athlete

Myth v Reality

Myth: Autistic athletes can't handle competitive pressure.

Reality: They can develop unique coping tools - and sometimes even outperform because of them.

While water polo is J.D.'s main sport, swim season revealed a pleasant surprise - he's not just a water polo player who swims...he's a swimmer in his own right.

J.D. competes in the 200 and 500 yard freestyle events. But the way he swims them? It's different. He doesn't pace like most distance swimmers. He attacks every lap with a sprinter's intensity, as if he's racing a 50 instead of a 500.

And it works.

In meet after meet, he closed the gap on other swimmers who used traditional stroke strategies. His endurance remarkable. His focus unshakable. And somewhere in that neurodiverse wiring - in the way his mind locks into rhythm and blocks out distraction - he's found an edge.

His teammates noticed. These are neurotypical high schoolers - fast, competitive, loud - and yet, many often cheer hardest for J.D. One moment sticks with us: J.D. was battling for first in the 500, and the pool deck was electric. One teammate stood up, screaming over the cheers:

'What do you think it is about his autism that makes him so freaking good in the water?!'

It was raw, unfiltered admiration. Not pity. Not surprise. Respect.

J.D.'s autism doesn't hold him back in the pool - it gives him something. A calm under pressure. A fierce rhythm. A refusal to coast.

He's not just keeping up with neurotypical athletes - he's pushing them to keep up with him.

From the Sidelines to the Swim Lanes: Journey to Finding His

When he was young, we introduced him to the water with the hope that swimming or water polo might be his thing. He loved being in the pool. While other kids practiced strokes or chased balls, he found his joy in the corner of the pool, splashing by himself. It wasn’t exactly the makings of a competitive athlete, but it was a start.

Like many parents, we wanted to help our child find a passion, a place where he could grow in confidence and skill. What we didn’t realize at the time was that the journey wouldn’t be linear—and that’s okay.

A Tour Through Sports

After the early water trials, we decided to widen the net. Soccer, jiu-jitsu, gymnastics, basketball, baseball, diving, skiing, ice skating—you name it, we tried it. Most of these experiments were tough. In many settings, the noise, complexity, and social demands were overwhelming. Following plays or any verbal direction was challenging. Sometimes he walked off the field. Sometimes he just stood there.

Diving was one of the few sports where he found a bit of success. There, in the quiet of the diving board and the focus of solo movement, J.D. could shine. He learned to be coached. He learned the fulfillment of having teammates. But even then, it wasn’t quite the right fit long term.

Not the Right Sport, but the Right Step

In trying several sports when he was younger, we hoped to find something that would stick. Most of them didn’t go well. Basketball, for example, was tough. He had trouble dribbling, couldn’t make a shot, and didn’t really understand how to pass. It was hard to watch at times.

But then we saw something more important: he was laughing, running, and enjoying being part of a team. He was having fun—and that meant everything.

That’s when we started to understand that the real challenge wasn’t him. It was us. We had to let go of what we thought success was supposed to look like, and let him move at his own pace.

We also saw kindness along the way. One dad, whose son was the team’s top player, cheered him on more than anyone. “We love having him here,” he said—and we knew he meant it. Those moments of true inclusion made a big impact.

Coming Full Circle

When J.D. tried water polo for the second time, it still didn’t go well. His coach meant well, but didn’t see much potential in some of the kids—and J.D. was one of them. He barely received any guidance or support.

After one game, J.D. sat quietly in the back of the car, tears rolling down his face. It was heartbreaking. I was ready to pull him from the sport entirely.

But before making that decision, I called my husband—who also happens to be a coach. He came to the next game and stood by J.D., offering encouragement and support. That made all the difference.

When a coach believes in every player, it changes everything. For J.D., something clicked. Just a few weeks later, we went from worrying he wouldn’t know which direction to swim, to watching him become the top scorer on his team.

It was a powerful reminder: not everyone improves in small, steady steps. Some kids grow in leaps. All they need is someone willing to believe in them and show them how.

Now, J.D. is a varsity water polo player and swimmer. He trains hard. He supports his teammates. He’s focused. And most importantly, he loves it.

What We Learned

J.D.'s journey taught us lessons that extend far beyond sports—and far beyond autism. We learned not to give up, not to let early struggles define what’s possible. We learned that progress is rarely predictable. Most of all, we learned to listen to our son and trust his timeline.

If you’re a parent of a neurodiverse child—or a child who just doesn’t seem naturally athletic—remember this: trying and failing isn’t failing. It’s exploring. And sometimes, the most valuable part of the journey isn’t finding “the right” sport, but discovering joy, self-worth, and community along the way.