How one Christchurch mum turned heartbreak into three decades of joy

Saturday, 8 November 2025

On a Saturday morning at Garden City Bowls in Christchurch, before the alley opens to the public, the clatter of falling pins echoes above the chatter and laughter of more than 60 bowlers and their families.

A sea of red and black jackets fills the lanes - the colours of the Special Olympics - symbolising both pride and belonging in a community that has grown together over decades.

But there’s one lane Sylvia Cooper never dares to step onto: her son Stephen’s.

“Stephen doesn’t let me anywhere near when he’s bowling,” Sylvia says, laughing. “Even after 30 years, that is his space.”

It’s a small ritual that sums up what the Special Olympics has built for Stephen, 48 and hundreds like him: independence, pride and a sense of belonging. For 75-year-old Sylvia, after nearly three decades as a volunteer, the bowling alley has become far more than a weekly routine. It has been a lifeline.

Finding purpose through family

Stephen Cooper, now 48, joined Special Olympics Canterbury at 17, after a teacher at Hagley Community College suggested he give it a go. His late father, Brian, a primary teacher at Woolston School, took him to his first tenpin bowling session.

“Stephen came home already signed up and so excited,” Sylvia recalls about her son, who has no diagnosed condition.

Brian took Stephen to bowls for several years before dying suddenly of a heart attack in 1996.

“He’d been unwell for a while, but when it happened, it was so quick and unexpected,” Sylvia says.

After his death, Sylvia began taking Stephen to bowls herself.

“The first time I went, I thought I’d just watch,” she says. “But you get dragged in - there’s no point sitting on the sidelines when you can be part of it. I just really love volunteering. It’s been a lifesaver for me.”

Building a bowling family

Tenpin bowling quickly became Stephen’s passion. He still keeps a book of scorecards tracking decades of steady improvement across regional and national competitions.

Even before retiring as a cook at a nearby rest home, Sylvia made sure her Saturdays were free for Special Olympics. Today, 30 years on, she is one of the longest-serving volunteers in Special Olympics Canterbury.

Each weekend she helps marshal bowlers, manage lanes and welcome newcomers. There are more than 60 athletes on the roster and always a waiting list.

“It just shows how popular it is,” Sylvia says. “We’ve built somewhat of a family. Thirty years of being with the same group of people each week - it’s quite special.”

That sense of family is obvious to others. Fellow volunteer Teena Dyson says Sylvia is the heart of the group.

“She always turns up early and helps wherever she’s needed, even if it’s not on Stephen’s lane,” Teena says. “She’s always smiling, always friendly, and everyone loves her.”

For Alina, whose 12-year-old daughter Ava has Down syndrome, the friendships keep them coming back. “The bowlers have so much banter and fun. It’s special to see those relationships grow,” she says.

The glue that keeps it running

“The volunteers are the glue of the Special Olympics movement, while the athletes are the heart and soul,” says Coen Lammers, media manager and fellow parent of a Special Olympics athlete.

“Without the volunteers, the athletes wouldn’t be able to train, compete, or even get to events. Working with our athletes takes special skills you can’t learn in school. The volunteers know which athlete likes what, who gets nervous and who needs encouragement. They provide the longevity and stability that keep things running.”

Special Olympics New Zealand chief executive Fran Scholey says volunteers are “absolutely vital”, not only keeping events on track but creating safe and supportive spaces where athletes can thrive.

They become more than helpers, she says. They’re trusted mentors, role models and friends.

Ask Stephen what he loves most about bowling, and it’s not the trophies and ribbons lined up in his lounge - though there are plenty.

“It doesn’t matter if you win. You just do your best and you’re happy.”

That philosophy underpins the Special Olympics spirit. Weekly bowling builds toward “ribbon days”, regional competitions and national games - but everyone is recognised, no matter the score.

“Everyone gets a ribbon or medal. Nobody misses out. I love that,” Sylvia says.

Christchurch on the world stage

The countdown is on for the 2025 National Summer Games, to be held in Christchurch from December 10 to 14, with 42 clubs, 1205 athletes, 479 managers and 511 volunteers taking part.

For Sylvia, the games are a chance to celebrate Stephen and the wider Special Olympics family - though this year she’s taking a rare step back.

“I’m getting a knee operation in a couple of weeks, so I’m not fit enough to be running around,” she says. “It’ll be quite nice just going along to watch this time.”

Stephen, meanwhile, has been perfecting his technique - what Sylvia affectionately calls his “funny little dance” before releasing the ball - and is eyeing another medal.

While Sylvia jokes she’s not allowed near his lane, she’ll be there in the crowd, cheering him on.

A legacy built on love

In many ways, Sylvia’s story is typical of Special Olympics volunteers: modest, dedicated and reluctant to take the spotlight.

Spending her weekends as she has is never a sacrifice, she says. “It’s just what you do.”

Lammers says stories like Sylvia’s “raise awareness, encourage community support and remind us this is a movement built on generosity”.

Scholey agrees. “Her story shows that volunteering isn’t just about giving time - it’s about building lifelong connections and being part of something bigger than yourself.”

For Stephen, it’s about the game.

For Sylvia, it’s about the family she found along the way.

“Special Olympics has given back to me just as much as I’ve given to it.”