It’s no fun being a wheelchair user in this day and age. Footpaths aren’t accessible and buildings are protected by laws, so they don’t need a ramp (even though the Government could also flatten it if they want to). People are excited that you’re out and about living life, yet nobody sees the struggle daily.
You might remember a previous column where I had to beg Kerry GAA to put a canopy over their wheelchair section in Austin Stacks grounds. It was met with little resistance and within a week a canopy was erected over part of the wheelchair section. Although it took me another eight months to visit, I can confirm I was lovely and dry for a recent club game.
Last week South Africa took on Munster in Páirc Uí Chaoimh – or, as I like to call it, Fort Knox. Actually, Fort Knox is easier to get into, and escaping from Alcatraz less complex.
Páirc Uí Chaoimh has 25 designated wheelchair-accessible parking spots beside the stadium. On Thursday night I was asked to do some TV work highlighting the greatness of Páirc Uí Chaoimh.
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I was given accreditation and told I was on a parking list. Due to the size of the crowd, cars weren’t allowed to drive down after 5pm, 2½ hours before kick-off. Due to other work commitments, I couldn’t guarantee a 5pm arrival, but I could get there 15 minutes after the cut-off point.
This is where the trouble started. As I prepared to show my accreditation, the traffic garda decided I was too late and effectively became my judge, jury and executioner. Having adjudicated on my tardiness, his sentence was to deny access. Like everyone else, I had to figure out my own way and pray Mother Nature would hold off on washing me away into the Lee.
Luckily, I know the city and am aware of one or two places that were open, and we found a space a 10-minute walk away. Now a 10-minute walk on Google Maps is fine, but it rarely accounts for the lack of drop kerbs for easy access or the fact a wheelchair can only go so far without burning a battery.
On my way down, I noticed other wheelchair users, some being pushed, others wheeling themselves along, but all with the same story that, at some point or another, a garda or member of security staff had turned them away.
The cut-off time is outrageous. People with disabilities aren’t werewolves. We can’t just turn into someone with a disability and shed it after dawn. It also disregards the limited transport options available to people with disabilities. Everyone knows buses in Cork are like unicorns, but wheelchair-accessible taxis are like UFOs. You might see one; if you do, it was probably your imagination.
Cut-off times also disregard circumstances such as hospital visits, availability of carers, and every other social hurdle someone with a disability has to crash into.
We all know that getting to Páirc Uí Chaoimh is horrendous, but I would be curious to know if people with disabilities were at the meetings when traffic management was being laid out. If not, ask a company involved with people with disabilities for advice.
Attending matches in Páirc Uí Chaoimh is actually a deterrent for me. Of course, if it’s a sell-out, I don’t mind getting a pass, but why should my matchday experience be planned for weeks when my brothers or friends can wake up on match day and decide to go? It’s a very simple thing to just want to wake up and go to a game. I have the blue badge. I’m so verified disabled that I’m shocked Elon Musk isn’t charging me a subscription fee.
The 25 wheelchair parking spots in Páirc Uí Chaoimh are rarely full. The system and planning are too much, and it’s deterring people with disabilities from going out and engaging in activities you probably take for granted.
If sport is for everyone, why are so many still struggling to even get in the gate?
