Almighty Coach

The staff member was at a loss after he reviewed the registration form. He had never encountered a situation like this. According to the information on the registration form, the personal best for the athlete in front of him was recorded in an elite track and field para-athletics competition.

Elite track and field para-athletics competition? What is this competition? As he thought this, he lifted his head and looked at Phillip before pointing at the portion of the form that had "Portland Elite Track and Field Para-athletics Competition" written on it. He asked, "Did you make a mistake here?"

Phillip lowered his head to check and said, "It’s correct."

"This race should only be open to disabled people, right?" the staff member checked.

"That’s right, only disabled people can participate in the race," Phillip answered.

"Then, you are a disabled person?" the staffer asked cautiously.

"Yes, I’m disabled. I’ve lost both my legs and I use a prosthesis to walk," Phillip answered honestly.

"You have no legs?" Despite knowing that it was insulting, he still lowered his head to look at Phillip’s legs. After which, he returned his gaze towards the registration form.

Barron Phillip. Lost both legs. I remember. I remember who he is! The staff lifted his head quickly and said with a stunned expression, "You are the blade warrior of Los Angeles!"

"I do have a nickname like that," Phillip replied.

"It’s really you!" The shocked expression on his face grew more apparent by the second after he confirmed Phillip’s identity. He asked, "You’re really here to register? Are you sure you want to participate? This is not a race for disabled people!"

"I know. This is the selection for the world championship in athletics, that’s why I want to participate," Phillip said seriously.

"Crazy! This is madness!" the staff mumbled to himself.

"What’s wrong? Is there a problem with my registration?" Phillip asked.

"This... I don’t know, I really don’t know. I’ve never encountered something like this before. Sorry, Mr. Phillip. About your registration, I have to ask for instructions from my superiors!" After he finished, the staffer grabbed Phillip’s registration form and walked outside. As he walked, he continued mumbling, "Madness, the world is way too crazy!"

...

The look on the face of the competition committee officer, Lopez, became distorted as he reviewed the registration form.

"A para-athlete? What is the meaning of this? Is he treating us as the Paralympics?" Lopez snorted coldly before putting down the form in his hand. He then said, "He is just trying to make trouble, pure and simple!"

"Mr. Lopez, do we accept his entry?" asked the staffer.

"Are you kidding me? This is the selection of the world championship; it is the highest level track and field competition in the US. Do you want to treat this like the Paralympics? Do you really want America’s best athletes, such as the "flying man," to compete on the same platform as a para-athlete?" Lopez answered firmly, "Reject his registration!"

"Okay sir, but what reason should I tell him for rejecting him?" asked the staffer self-consciously.

Lopez curled his lips in contempt and said, "Any reason would do. It doesn’t matter. We are the organizers of this competition, and we have the right to reject the participation of any athlete!"

...

"Mr. Phillip, I’m really sorry. You can’t participate in our competition." The staffer returned the registration form to Phillip.

"Why?" Phillip accepted the registration form. "Did I make a mistake in filling in the form? I can change it now."

"It’s not a problem with the form, it’s just that you do not meet the requirements for signing up," replied the staffer coldly.

"Which part of me does not meet the requirements? My result has met the minimum requirements for registering for the qualifiers! Or are you saying that my result is suspicious? You can go ahead and check. My result is definitely authentic," Phillip said.

"It’s not about the result either." The man shook his head.

"Then what exactly is the reason? Could it be because I am a disabled person? But your rules did not state that a disabled person cannot register!" Phillip looked a little exasperated.

The staffer did not answer him directly as he was afraid of saying something wrong and later taking the blame for it. So, he merely said, "Mr. Phillip, you do not meet the requirements for signing up. It is the decision of the competition committee. If you have any questions or problems, please direct it to the competition committee."

Phillip just shook his head in disgust. He grabbed the registration form and turned towards the exit.

Sitting by a French window in a cafe not far away, Dai Li saw a disgruntled Phillip heading towards the cafe.

Phillip entered the cafe and sat in front of Dai Li. He slammed the registration form on the table in anger and exclaimed, "They really rejected my registration!"

"Was it because you were disabled?" Dai Li asked calmly.

"They didn’t say it clearly." Phillip took in several deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself.

"It doesn’t matter if they were clear or not. If they don’t allow you to register, we’ll have to ask Stephen to do his thing. Anyway, as an agent, Stephen is actually quite responsible," Dai Li said, taking out his phone and lowering his head. He then began searching for Stephen’s number. As he searched, he said, "I’m going to give Stephen a call. I’ll ask him to contact the media as well as the protection agency for disabled persons. You should also quickly go and make a tweet on Twitter. I believe your supporters would like to be the first to know that you have encountered unfair treatment."

...

"Hey Marshall, it’s Stephen. How have you been... You’ve heard of the ’blade warrior,’ Barron Phillip before, right? Yeah, the para-athlete who lost both his legs. I have news related to him, I’m sure you’ll be interested! He intends to participate in a competition for normal people! Yes, a disabled person is going to take part in a normal competition!"

"What? This news isn’t impressive enough? Marshall, don’t be hasty, let me finish. Phillip wants to take part in normal competitions, and he’s already met the requirements for signing up, but he was denied participation by the organizers!"

"Of course it’s because he is a disabled person! No, no, no. The rules of participation do not limit the participation of disabled people. Isn’t it ironic? A disabled person who has worked so hard to be normal was mistreated. That’s why Phillip needs you, Marshall. We need a journalist like you who has a sense of justice..."

Stephen ended the call with the journalist. He then started another call with the protection agency for disabled persons.

"Mr. Powell, what I’m telling you is nothing but the truth. The organizers really did reject Phillip’s request to participate in the competition. This is discrimination against people with disabilities! We need people like you who have a sense of justice to help us. And if you are willing to help us, it would be beneficial to you as well. From what I know, in your constituency, one-fifth of the population are people with disabilities, they would definitely vote for the candidate who was willing to lend a hand to a disabled person..."

Stephen made more than a dozen phone calls, then let out a long sigh.

"Hurry up and make some noise. The noisier, the better. It would be best if the whole world knew. Then, there might be more advertisement endorsements later!"

...

Two university students from California State University walked towards their classroom.

"The stadium sure looks lively, so many people are gathered there," one of the students said.

"I heard there’s a competition. It’s the qualifier for the selection of the world championship in athletics. A lot of big-name athletes came to participate," the other person said.

"No wonder so many people gathered there. Look, it seems like they are holding up posters and banners. Are they here to support an athlete?"

"Eh? There really are posters and banners. But the competition starts tomorrow. Why are the supporters already here? Whoever they’re supporting, they sure are passionate. If I didn’t know any better, I’d have thought that some organizations were having a protest!"

"A protest huh? It does look like a protest... Wait, look closely, they are having a protest!"

It wasn’t all that difficult to differentiate between a protest and a group of fans following their idols. As soon as the two of them looked closer, they were able to discern that the group gathered in front of the stadium was indeed a protest group.

"Let’s go and have a look, see what they are protesting!" They edged closer to the group of protesters as they spoke.

As they moved closer, they discovered that within the group of protesters, many were people with disabilities.

"Protest against disability discrimination!"

"People with disabilities should not be mistreated!"

"Protect the rights of the disabled!"

The eye-catching banners appeared before their eyes one after another.

...

When a large group of people in wheelchairs and on crutches held up signs to protest, it was natural that they would attract attention. Disabled people would always be regarded as a vulnerable group, no matter where they went. When a person decided to leave their amputated arms or legs exposed in the open, he might not even need to do anything for the people around him to feel sympathy for him.

Beside the window, Lopez opened a small gap between his shutters to look at the group of people protesting outside.

What is this? I refused to let that "blade warrior" take part just this morning, and now there’s already someone here to protest in the afternoon. It must have been planned in advance! By then, Lopez’s mood had already plummeted.

Suddenly, Lopez saw a few men carrying cameras, and a man holding a microphone in his hand appeared within the group of people.

It’s the journalists! The protesters only just arrived half an hour ago, how are the journalists already here? When did journalists become so efficient! Things will definitely become trickier once journalists become involved.

As Lopez began thinking, he saw a black car coming from afar. It stopped near the group of people, and a blonde man stepped out of the vehicle.

That man is the Republican candidate, Damon! I heard he’s running for city councilman, why is he here... Damn! Lopez suddenly realized something.

"I think I’ve been tricked by that ’blade warrior!’" Lopez mumbled to himself.