A Seattle World Cup outing began with excitement and ended in a steep reality check—one navigated with a cane, a shuttle, and hard-won patience after a stroke changed a father’s mobility.
When I turned the corner at Seattle’s stadium, I didn’t see a smooth path to our seats. I saw a wall of concrete stairs—steep and narrow—leading to seats near the top. My dad, who uses a cane, was supposed to make it. For a moment. it felt like the trip I’d been planning since before his stroke was about to fall apart at the very last climb.
We had been talking about the World Cup coming to Seattle since before his stroke. After it, I became even more determined to get him here. My dad had a stroke 6 months ago—last December. Fortunately, he can still speak and walk, but he uses a cane now and can’t go very far. His stroke also left him with some short-term memory loss, and his reaction time is slower. He’s been working hard to recover with brain exercises and physical therapy.
His body was already dealing with limits before the stroke, too. He’d had a knee injury in high school and spent his career as an electrician. a job he describes as physically taxing. So the World Cup wasn’t just a day out—it was a test of what “recovery” really looks like in public. in motion. in heat. with no room for improvisation.
Luckily, my dad reached his seat. He used the handrail to pull himself along with one hand and used the cane with the other. But the moment was a stark reminder of something I hadn’t understood before: I thought I’d planned our route well. I hadn’t accounted for that final climb.
There was another challenge that didn’t show up on any stadium map. My mom needed a break from caretaking. During the last-minute sales phase. I spent hours in a digital line and. amazingly. scored four tickets on my credit card. My dream was to take my dad, my mom, and my boyfriend. But my mom had vacation plans—she’d been my dad’s caretaker for months. and she was ready for time off once he’d recovered some.
Without her, getting my dad to the game would be harder. He hadn’t attended a big event since his stroke. My parents live a few hours north of the city. and he can’t drive unless he passes a new driving test—doctor’s orders. One of my mom’s friends volunteered to drive him part of the way. My boyfriend and I would pick him up from there.
Then came the logistics that can crush a day when you’re relying on accessibility information. The stadium area would be closed to traffic, and accessible parking had sold out. I considered suggesting a wheelchair. but I also knew how much my dad values walking—even when it’s harder now. I assumed we would use other accessibility support to minimize his walking time.
The accessibility information I found online was confusing and seemed incomplete. So while the US played Australia. I walked to Seattle Stadium from my nearby apartment—threading through revelers—until I found the place listed as an accessibility drop-off area. There, I discovered an ADA shuttle parked on-site. The operators told me it actually started from my neighborhood. Finally, we had a travel plan.
The day itself started early. Before 8 a.m., my boyfriend and I were on the road. The bright summer weather promised temperatures in the mid-80s. We picked up my dad, then stopped to buy hydrating beverages because he sometimes forgets to drink enough water. I started shivering in the cold grocery aisles. partly because of the refrigeration and partly because I was nervous about making sure my dad would be okay.
In Seattle. my boyfriend dropped us off at the shuttle pick-up point and then went to park and meet us at the stadium. The walk from the drop-off to the accessible entrance was far for my dad, but at least it was flat. He powered through. Even when we reached the final set of shockingly steep stairs, he didn’t complain. I could see that going up was painful for him. I tried to offer an arm for support, but he made it on his own.
We reached our seats half an hour before kick-off. Only then did I feel my shoulders loosen. Soon. the three of us were surrounded by the contagious energy of Bosnia fans as Bosnia and Herzegovina beat Qatar 3-1 in a thrilling match. Singing and chanting filled the air. and for a couple hours. the barriers—literal and logistical—melted into the bigger feeling of being together.
Even with all the planning, the experience wasn’t as smooth as I’d hoped. But it showed me how independent my dad still is, even after everything his body has been through. What my dad wants most is to enjoy our time together. It’s what I want, too.
World Cup Seattle accessibility stroke recovery ADA shuttle stadium stairs Bosnia vs Qatar personal story