Wharton senior Justin Scott took in every high five, every pat on the back and every hug on the most glorious night of his life.
The doctors who birthed him wouldnât have believed it. His first teachers would be floored. Most anyone who knows anyone with cerebral palsy would be flabbergasted.
This kid can play.
Overcoming the greatest of odds, Justin held his head high as he walked off the field towards the locker room, still talking about the game, a 2-0 Wildcats win over Durant, a victory he started and played almost all 80 minutes of, like it was a dream he hoped would never end.
âI was told I would never walk, I would never walk, and I was told I was going to die before I was two year old,â Justin said. âNow look where I am â playing soccer for my high school team.â
On Jan. 14, 18-year-old Justin started at forward for the Wharton boys soccer team, a surprise reward for his years of perseverance, his positivity and his commitment to his teammates.
Justin says soccer has long been his passion. He once had a hat trick in a league game at the YMCA and, in limited action at Turner-Bartels K-8, he was a goaltender who never allowed a shot past him.
But, in high school, as the players get bigger and stronger, Justin was outmatched.
He didnât try out for the soccer team as a freshman, because he was too nervous. He was cut as a sophomore but, instead of giving up, he accepted a spot as the teamâs manager and promised he would try out again.
He again was cut junior and senior years. âI really thought this year I had a chance,â Justin said.
His chance did finally come, on Senior Night, where friends, teachers and family â his mother Michelle and her husband Rob, his father Michael Scott and his wife Jennifer, and grandmother Blannie Whalen â gathered while waving cutouts of Justinâs head on a stick, to celebrate the young man who just wouldnât quit.
When he was introduced as part of Whartonâs starting lineup, he trotted out to the middle of the field where his smiling teammates high-fived him. When the first whistle blew, he took off like a bolt, chasing down the opponent, and blocking a long pass attempt by jumping in front of the ball, the thud sending a shiver down his motherâs spine.
âI was pretty nervous,â Michele said, âbut I was also so full of pride. He played so well. He was fearless.â
Justin was born prematurely, a childbirth during which Michelle had an allergic reaction âto a penicillin-type drugâ and went into anaphylactic shock. Justin was born with brain damage and, sometime around the age of 1, was diagnosed with cerebral palsy.
He learned how to walk, which wasnât supposed to happen, and learned how to talk, too. Eventually, he was running and jumping around and fell in love with soccer, and grew into a popular kid that teachers and classmates rallied around.
While cerebral palsy had stripped Justin of many of the motor skills and coordination needed to play, he never stopped once he started, not only playing but learning how to be a linesman and refereeing games and helping to coach his old middle school team.
And, of course, he was a great manager, always there, always encouraging, so eager to be part of the team. But of course, his dream was to play. And Wharton coach Scott Ware finally gave him his opportunity.
âHe deserved it,â Ware said. âHeâs definitely earned it.â
Justin called his mom when he first heard it might happen and, when it became official, he brought home his kit (uniform) and proudly tried it on for her.
âHe told me, âMom, this isnât just about me, I just want people with disabilities not to give up on themselves,ââ Michelle said. âThatâs how he is.â
The next day, Justin, who has been accepted into a number of colleges but is really hoping to attend the University of Florida, wore his kit to school, and later that night played in it: No. 14.
And Justin played hard, as hard as he could, eager to make the most of the moment. He chased down opposing players who had the ball, mixed it up in the box with others trying to jostle for a shot, actually had a few potential goals go awry and even had a header.
Every time he came close to a ball near the goal, his teammates on the bench would lean forward, and in unison yell âJustinâ in anticipation of a miracle.
âWe were all excited for him that he was playing,â said senior Christian Lundblad. âIf he had scored, I would have stormed the field. I might have gotten in trouble for it, but I would have done it. We were all rooting for him tonight.â
At halftime, he was asked if he was tired. âI could keep going for another two days,â he said.
In the second half, a ball was played into the box from the far side. The ball miraculously found its way through four players and the keeper, right to the feet of Justin. He was surprised it got to him, and reacted as quickly as he could, sliding and poking the shot just wide of the open net. It was agonizingly close.
âNine times out of 10 the goalkeeper stops that ball,â Justin said. âThatâs why I missed it. That will haunt me for days and years.â
But, it didnât stop him from smiling afterwards.
Just playing in the game was a dream come true. Justin said he doubts his coach even knows just how much it meant to him. He was proud, and grateful beyond words for an opportunity he thought would never come.
âI just never gave up,â he said. âItâs the story of my life.â
