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Ryan Belflower, a special-ed student at a Fresno-area high school, produces cheers and tears with a dramatic shot By John Branch -- Fresno Bee Published 2:15 am PST Sunday, February 20, 2005 The lead got bigger and bigger. The chant echoed louder and louder. "It got so loud," Clovis East High School basketball coach Tim Amundsen said, "even I had goose bumps." "We want Ry-no. ... We want Ry-no. ... We want Ry-no. ..."  "That's my nickname," Ryan Belflower said. "Even some of the parents didn't know what they were chanting for." They were chanting for a chance. A chance for Belflower, an 18-year-old special-education student, to get into an otherwise ordinary game against Buchanan High on Wednesday night. He entered the game to wild cheers. And after his three-pointer swished in sync with the final buzzer, he exited on the shoulders of two football players, the center of a hive of swarming students parading in front of parents, teachers and fans watching it all with dropped jaws and tear-stained eyes. "For me, it wasn't the shot," said Shauna Belflower, Ryan's mother. "It was - I'm going to cry - it was the reaction of everyone." Yep, she cried. Women cried. Men cried. "He had the most ecstatic look on his face," Clovis East library media teacher Sandie Woods said of Ryan as he soaked in the adulation. "It was pure joy. And the people in the stands were cheering and crying at the same time." When Ryan was 2 1/2, Shauna and Bennie Belflower were told his troubles weren't just speech-related. "He was probably 8 before he could answer, 'How are you?' because that's a concept, not a hard and fast rule," Shauna Belflower said. Fearful of the stigma of labels, she refers to Ryan as "developmentally delayed." He is part of the non-diploma vocational education program, focused on life skills and job preparedness. "He puts in the same effort your valedictorian puts in," Clovis East special-education teacher AJ Blackburn said. "He just doesn't have the same abilities." In ninth grade, Ryan was painfully shy. He didn't look you in the eye. He tilted his head away from conversations. But when special-education teacher and girls basketball coach Meredith Pulliam asked her class if anyone wanted to be a team manager, Ryan raised his hand. He has been busy ever since. He spent two years with the girls basketball team. He spent last fall with the football team. Coaches use Ryan's attitude and work ethic as an example for the others. His family could see his shyness shedding when Ryan told Amundsen that he wanted a tryout for the basketball team. Last season, he became a manager/player, emphasis on manager - running the clock, filling water bottles, getting balls, videotaping games. He works with the team before school, then during a weightlifting class in first period, then every day after school for practice. He travels with the team to summer tournaments. "He's everything I want to represent Clovis East basketball," Amundsen said. Amundsen gave Ryan a uniform and let him sit on the bench. He has played a few mop-up minutes this season. He scored a basket late in a game against Atwater. "I only go in in the fourth quarter," Ryan said. "To Ryan's benefit," Pulliam said, "he doesn't understand his own limitations sometimes." If he did, he might not have been there Wednesday night. It was Senior Night, with Ryan and others introduced alongside their parents. Midway through the fourth quarter, Clovis East had a 26-point lead. The chants bounced through the gym. With less than five minutes remaining, Amundsen called for Ryan - a 5-foot-6 guard, wearing No. 12 - to check in. The crowd roared. Shauna Belflower balled her hands into fists, held them in front of her face and peered past them in anxiety. He took a shot. It missed. He got fouled but missed the free throw. The lead shrank to nine points with 58 seconds to go. Amundsen resisted the urge to substitute. The Clovis East defense tightened. No one worked harder than Ryan. With the clock ticking down, the result assured, fans from both schools were on their feet. Clovis East worked the ball to Ryan, camped at the top of the key. Flick. Swish. Buzzer. Game. It wasn't the winning basket - the final score was 70-60 - but you wouldn't know it. Teammates engulfed him. Students spilled from the bleachers. Ryan rode on the shoulders of Tony Ferguson and Clinton Brown until they finally carried him out the gym doors. Ryan rode with his arms over his head. The shyness he brought to high school won't follow him out. After the cheers faded Wednesday, Ryan was in the car with his 20-year-old brother, Justin. That's when the moment hit Ryan as it did everyone else. "He started bawling," Justin said. "He said, 'Bro, this is the greatest moment in my life.' For him to understand that concept tells you how far he has come." |
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