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Taylor is on a path to playing Para sport for Australia, and his community is all in

Taylor is on a path to playing Para sport for Australia, and his community is all in

Driving around 200km to my first training session with the South Australian Paralympic soccer team in 2014, there was an immense level of anxiety flowing through my body.

Growing up in the small regional town of Tintinara, two hours south-east of Adelaide, I was never exposed to people living with disability. It wasn’t until discovering Paralympic sport that I had visibility of ‘people like me’.

And there I stood, surrounded by athletes who looked like me, embarking on a journey I had never envisioned. In a matter of moments, my life had changed forever, all thanks to soccer.

For the many people that drive from Adelaide to Melbourne, Tintinara is considered a place to stretch your legs and not much more.

It’s primarily an agricultural town, with a rich sheep, beef and cropping history. For the more than 500 people who live there, sport is a glue that brings the community together.

As someone with a physical disability, the regional community has been integral to developing my passion for sport and feeling comfortable in my own skin.

After weeks of rehabilitation in hospital, Taylor went back home and threw himself into sport. (Supplied: Adam Cavenor)

How things can change in an instant

Despite having what many would consider a ‘normal’ childhood, my world was turned upside down in 2005.

At just eight years old, I woke up in distress, unable to move my right leg.

After arriving at the Women’s and Children’s Hospital in Adelaide, blood tests, lumbar punctures, X-rays, and MRIs revealed I had contracted transverse myelitis.

A one-in-a-million chance, the neurological virus caused inflammation across the width of both sides of one level of my spinal cord.

While lying in my hospital bed, I was blissfully unaware of how serious my situation was and assumed my leg would naturally get better.

Little did I know, my mother was having conversations with doctors about the possibility of the virus progressing further and potentially making me a quadriplegic.

Following multiple weeks of rehabilitation and regaining partial use of my leg, I returned to my family home just outside of Tintinara, much to my delight.

However, on my long-awaited return home, I found that I would have to adjust quickly to my new normal, with the strength and coordination in my right leg still impacted.

As the weeks went by, the motivation to return to sport grew stronger and stronger.

In small country towns, sport provides an opportunity to create meaningful friendships, work together to achieve a common goal and keep healthy. Without sport, the small town felt smaller.

A man in a hat slide tackles.

Taylor didn’t once think of himself as disabled, until he became a teenager. (Supplied: Adam Cavenor)

Even a cast on my right leg couldn’t keep me away from running around the football field with my friends. Despite my physical limitations, I never once thought of myself as disabled.

This mindset stemmed from those around me treating me as an equal, not as someone who required special treatment.

Strengthening my body through exercise allowed me to compete with my peers well into my teenage years, but it also created a negative body image that destroyed my self-confidence.

From denial to acceptance

Whether it was football, soccer, basketball, cricket or any other form of team competition, my obsession with comparing myself with others made me aware of my own physical differences.

Looking in the mirror and seeing one leg being bigger than the other triggered me to speak to my mother and bring it up at my final check up at the Women’s and Children’s Hospital.

During the check-up, one of the young doctors sitting at the back of the room suggested that I should try Paralympic sport due to my passion for physical activity.

Immediately dismissive, I spent the two-hour trip home thinking: “I’m not disabled, I am not in a wheelchair.”

After finally coming to the realisation that I had a physical disability , it felt like a weight had left my shoulders. Following weeks of research, I decided to pursue Paralympic soccer.

Training with the state squad provided an opportunity to see different levels of disability. 

By chatting with teammates, I quickly realised that my disability wasn’t something to be ashamed of. 

Three men on a soccer field look to each other and smile.

At a routine check-up, a young doctor suggested Taylor try Paralympic sport. (Supplied: Tristan Furney)

For many years prior, I had altered the way I moved to not draw attention to my leg. 

But in this moment, I didn’t have to think about how I was being perceived, I could just be me.

When hard work pays off

My new-found confidence skyrocketed after being selected to represent South Australia at the 2014 state championships in Coffs Harbour.

The state tournament made me incredibly appreciative of the overall experience, but it also fuelled my passion to aim for higher sporting honours.

Sitting in the dining area of the Tintinara Hotel, little did I know that I was about to receive an email that would bring me to tears and justify years of hard work and sacrifice.

Two men shake hands and smile.

Taylor met with Socceroo Bailey Wright at a recent Pararoos training camp. (Supplied: Torie Mathew)

The email congratulated me on my selection for the U19 Australian team that would compete at the 2015 CPISRA World Games in Nottingham, England.

Although I was incredibly fortunate to wear the green and gold in matches against Scotland and Japan, the opportunity could very easily never have happened.

In the months leading into the tournament, there were countless thoughts going through my head of how I was going to raise thousands of dollars to make the trip possible.

No-one can underestimate the power of a small community coming together to help their own. Several weekends of selling raffle tickets at local sporting events and receiving donations from generous individuals highlighted the beauty of living in the small town.

Although I knew many people from the community, in my mind, they had no obligation to help me financially – yet people still went out of their way to make my dream become a reality.

Without the support of kind-hearted members of the Tintinara community, as well as financial contributions and sacrifices from family, wearing the green and gold wouldn’t have occurred.

A goal keeper stretches for the ball in front of a soccer goal.

The community of Tintinara banded around Taylor and his family to help him live his dream of playing for Australia. (Supplied: Adam Cavenor)

A ‘perfect life’ paused

Despite my disability opening the doors to two life-changing experiences, the following years showcased the best and worst of the rollercoaster that we call life.

After graduating from Tintinara Area School, I moved to Adelaide to study journalism.

Three years of hard work, networking and rewarding experiences prepared me with the skills to commence my first job at my childhood newspaper, the Border Chronicle, in Bordertown.

A man with glasses stands in front of a sign saying Bordertown and holds up a newspaper.

Taylor Harvey at Bordertown during life as a regional journo. (Supplied: Taylor Harvey)

Immersing myself and telling stories about the region I grew up in, while also playing the sport I love, was my definition of a ‘perfect life’. However, nothing is ever perfect.

The emergence of the COVID-19 pandemic caused the world to shut down, including local sport, which put the brakes on my aspirations to represent Australia through the Pararoos.

Being unable to play at my local soccer club, Naracoorte United, I felt like a piece of me was missing and that my life seemingly had no meaning.

My weekends were always spent at a local sporting club and the disruption of that routine left me feeling lost. I missed those social connections and the feeling of belonging.

However, when the ban was lifted on local sport, it provided a glimpse of hope during the pandemic.

Not long after the return of team sport, I was invited to my first Pararoos camp in several years.

Two men run on a soccer field and smile.

COVID put a temporary stop to Taylor’s aspirations, but he was able to attend a Pararoos Camp in 2021. (Supplied: Tristan Furney)

The power of community over pain

Pure excitement was quickly replaced with an earth-shattering pain following the sudden passing of my father shortly before the selection camp.

Soccer was the last thing on my mind, but my personal tragedy provided a unique opportunity to reflect on how sport and family played a significant role in my life.

Regardless of whether I was playing local sport, or representing the Pararoos, the unbelievable support from friends, family and the community has never wavered.

Growing up in a tiny regional community allowed me to develop the confidence to not see my disability as a negative and, most importantly, be able to play sport without prejudice.

A man in a red vest kicks a corner kick.

Taylor attended another Pararoos camp earlier this year. (Supplied: Adam Cavenor)

Despite my physical limitations, I was never told that I couldn’t participate in any sport or even treated differently to my able-bodied peers – in my eyes, I was not seen as different.

With my eyes firmly placed on representing the Pararoos at a major tournament, the loudest supporters of mine are the ones who have been there from the start.

Through a mixture of private training sessions and playing at my local club, Adelaide Atletico VSC, I have been able to attend several Pararoos training camps over the last two years.

As the 2025 season fast approaches, I have been training meticulously to improve current skill deficiencies to ensure I am prepared for any future national team call ups.

Even if I never represent my country ever again, the impact of accessing sport in a regional community has changed my perception of what is possible for someone with a disability.

This article was commissioned as part of the ABC’s coverage and recognition of International Day of People with Disability.