Small Adjustments, Big Independence: Why Inclusive Sport Matters

Sport has always been close to my heart, and I think that’s because my relationship with sport started really early. If I’m honest, it’s tied up with my relationship with my brother too. I always wanted to be as good as him. Not even “better”, just not left behind. And he pushed me in a way that made it very clear that my disability couldn’t be the reason I didn’t try. That mindset stayed with me.

In primary school I played football. I liked it, but it wasn’t the one that fully clicked for me. Then towards the end of primary school and into secondary school I started playing cricket, and that became my sport. I still play it now. I’ve spoken about cricket before, but this isn’t really about cricket. This is about what sport actually does for people with disabilities when it’s done properly, because the benefits are way deeper than “it keeps you healthy”.

Most people think sport is exercise, fitness, maybe strength, maybe improving your mindset. And sure, all of that is true. But for disabled people, sport can be something else as well. It can be the thing that stops you getting trapped in isolation. It can be the thing that builds confidence without you even noticing. And it can be the thing that helps you build a real social life that doesn’t feel forced.

There’s a pattern I’ve seen a lot, and I’ve lived parts of it too. It’s like a loop that feeds itself. If you’re disabled, there are often barriers to entry when you want to do activities. That can be physical access, confidence, cost, lack of options, or just the mental effort of thinking “is this place actually going to work for me?”. And when something feels like effort before you’ve even started, you’re less likely to do it.

So you go to fewer activities. Then you go to fewer social events. Then you make fewer friends. And once your circle gets smaller, it’s easier to become more isolated. It’s not dramatic. It’s gradual. It’s just less of everything. Less chances. Less invites. Less confidence. Less momentum. That’s why sport can be so powerful, because it breaks the loop at the start.

When I talk about inclusive sport, I don’t mean everyone needs to be competitive. The beginning doesn’t need to be intense. It just needs to be foundational. You need a club, a session, a space, somewhere that’s disability friendly in a real sense, not just in the way people say it on a website. If you have a place where you can go and try a sport in a disability friendly session, suddenly you’ve got a doorway into something.

You go once, and you realise you actually like it. So you go again. Then you realise other people like it too. So you make friends. Then those friends turn into socials. Then those socials grow your world. That one decision to try something becomes the core of your spider web. It spreads into other parts of your life without you forcing it. You get more confident, you meet more people, you feel more capable, you find opportunities, you start doing more things, and your life gets bigger. That’s why I always come back to this point: sport isn’t just sport. It’s a route into belonging.

People sometimes imagine disability sport as one category, like it’s one thing. But it’s not. Even within one sport there can be so many versions and formats for different needs. Just using cricket as an example, you’ve got blind cricket, physical disability cricket, neurological disability cricket, and more. There’s a spectrum. People have a place. And what’s great is you can often move between formats or abilities in ways that actually make the whole thing feel more human and less boxed in. But you only find that world if the entry point exists.

This is where I get a bit blunt, because it annoys me. There’s a lot of “disability friendly” stuff that isn’t really disability friendly. It’s more like they didn’t even try properly, or they tried in the easiest possible way and then stopped thinking. I’ll use gyms as an example because it’s the easiest one. When people think “I need to get fit”, they think “I’ll join a gym”. That’s normal. But if you’re disabled and you’re a beginner, gyms can be one of the hardest places to start.

If you’re an able bodied person and you don’t know what you’re doing, you can hire a personal trainer and figure it out. Most trainers will get you moving safely. If you’re disabled, it’s different. You might not have faith that an ordinary personal trainer can adapt the movements properly to your body and your circumstances. Not because they’re bad people, but because a lot of them simply haven’t been trained for it. And that becomes a barrier before you even start.

You might want to exercise, you might be motivated, but you think “is this safe for me if I don’t know how to adjust things?”. That friction point is enough to stop people trying. And yes, determination can push through it. But the whole point is you shouldn’t need heroic determination just to do a basic thing like join a gym safely.

Access isn’t only about wheelchairs. That’s another thing people forget. Yes, ramps and lifts matter. But what about someone who isn’t in a wheelchair and just needs stability support? What about doorway widths? What about handrails? What about layouts that aren’t cramped? What about making it possible to move around without having to ask someone to help you?

Because here’s something I want people to understand properly: most of us want to be independent as much as possible. I will ask for help if I need help. But if I think I can do something alone, 99 times out of 100, I want to do it alone. I don’t want assumptions. I don’t want a whole moment where someone rushes over and I’m like “no I’m fine” and they’re like “are you sure” and it becomes a thing. Independence isn’t pride. It’s dignity. It’s also efficiency. It saves time for everyone.

This is my big takeaway: a lot of these problems don’t exist because people are cruel. They exist because people don’t see things from our point of view. So if you want to solve a disability problem in sport, or make a gym accessible, or refurbish a clubhouse, the best thing you can do is consult with people who actually live it. Find someone with that disability and that passion for the activity, and they will tell you exactly what needs adapting.

And it’s not just for disabled people either. When you make things clearer, safer, more accessible, and more thought through, everyone benefits. Older people benefit. People recovering from injuries benefit. Beginners benefit. Parents with prams benefit. Even confident gym goers benefit because the space just works better.

I also think a lot of this comes down to foundations. If schools and universities taught better inclusive thinking, if access and adaptation was normalised early, we wouldn’t be having the same conversations forever. And it links into workplaces too. Workplaces are basically the same design problem as gyms and sports clubs in a different outfit. People need access, facilities, layouts that work, and the ability to do what they came there to do. Once you learn how to think about access properly in one area, you can apply it everywhere.

And yes, I get it. Businesses are businesses. They need profit. Not everything can be perfect in every building at all times. But that’s why the smartest move is consultation and planning, especially when you’re building new spaces or refurbishing old ones. Because you’re missing a whole demographic of people without even realising it. Not because you want to exclude anyone, but because you haven’t thought about them.

If you help someone gain independence, it helps everyone. The business wins because it reaches a new demographic. The person wins because they build confidence and social connection. The community wins because more people are involved, contributing, and visible. And those knock on effects build over time. More friends, more opportunities, more activities, more jobs, more independence. It stacks. It all starts with the same thing: small changes.

Small changes make big differences. If you’ve got thoughts on this, or you’ve experienced a “disability friendly” place that wasn’t actually friendly, I’d love to hear it. And if you run a club, a gym, or you coach a sport and want to talk about making it genuinely inclusive, message me. I’m always up for the conversation.

Christian
Co-Founder, lunor.life