A friend recently sent me a link about a high school student with autism who made his high school’s varsity basketball team and in the process became an overnight YouTube sensation.

Now unlike the recent rash of stories (including some repeated in this column) about people with developmental conditions who inspire others to excel — for example, as managers or “special assistants” on sports teams, or as inspirational sibling to a sister who plays college basketball or a brother who makes the Olympic ski team — this kid actually himself plays and excels.

Jason started out in a role that, although it is wonderful and admirable, is all too typical for young people with developmental conditions like autism — that of manager of his high school basketball team.  Of course the manager of a basketball team doesn’t manage people or athletes or game strategy or the business affairs of the team, but rather the sweaty socks, shorts, jerseys, and towels used by the players while shagging errant  basketballs and lugging heavy equipment bags.

In other words, team manager is not the most prestigious job in the gym.  But it does get you inside the gym with a job that contributes to the team’s success.  (Full disclosure:  I was cut from the freshman basketball team in high school, so I quit sports in disgust and joined the marching band).  As the sign in my neighborhood bingo hall says, You Must Be Present to Win.

I wonder how this marvelous journey unfolded, not so much for Jason but for the coaches and teammates around him.  Did it start with good intentions limited, perhaps unconsciously, by assumptions about what kids with “special needs” can accomplish?  What wonderful alchemy took place inside that gym?  Presumably Jason did a great job managing the sweaty clothes and loose basketballs.  But he also found time around the edges of his duties to play the game itself.  And what a player!

What was going through the coach’s mind as he began to see beyond the “special needs” label that had constrained his view of Jason and realize he was a damn good basketball player?  This isn’t a story about Jason’s journey; he had arrived at his destination long ago, fully present and waiting for everyone else to catch up.  The others did arrive eventually, including his coach who finally moved Jason from the equipment room to center court as a varsity player.

At this point in the story, the journey takes on the epic dimensions of a YouTube sensation.  Here is footage of Jason in uniform sitting on the bench for the first time with this teammates, equal at last.  Here is an interview with the coach describing his hesitation to put Jason in the game — what if he fails?  Here now is Jason entering the game and taking the first shot of his long-awaited career, an air ball that misses everything and sails out of bounds.

But wait, here is Jason taking his second shot, a long three-pointer that hits nothing but net.  Sweet!  The packed gym rocks; how cool was that!  Now Jason shoots again; nothing but net for another three.  And again.  And again.  Now the gym is positively levitating.  What a story!  How good this makes us feel, that this young man overcomes adversity to become a hero.  The YouTube clip ends with Jason being carried off the floor in triumph on the shoulders of his deliriously happy fellow students.

I love this story because it is about what Jason accomplishes himself by being present, rather than what he inspires others to accomplish, or (worse) is allowed to experience by well-meaning peers.  But it also makes me wonder about the source and nature of the adversity Jason had to overcome.

In many ways, the most profound obstacle Jason faced had nothing to do with him.  Too often, the primary obstacles faced by people with developmental conditions are the assumptions other people make about them.  But on the last day of the season, this coach and this team finally figured it out:  they included Jason on the team and put him in the game.  The results were amazing!

Hindsight is perfect, and we all need to take the journey that lies ahead of us.  But I can’t resist wondering what might have happened if Jason had been included by his coach and peers from the beginning.  Because when we are present and fully engaged with each other — in the classroom, in the workplace, in the gym — amazing things happen to everyone involved.

Tom Everill is the President & CEO of Northwest Center. Contact him at nside@nwcenter.org.