Free as a bird: How Ben Kredich inspired Tennessee swimming and a surfing tradition

Kim Kredich sees the personalities of her sons in the way they surf.

Miles is loose, and his arms are floppy like a "rubber band man." Coleman has a go-getter personality and is determined to have proper form.

Then there was Ben. He didn't stand facing the right or the left side of the board like most do. He stood with his feet shoulder-width apart, square to the front of the board, a stance that's actually more difficult to find balance. Ben, who had autism, would stretch his arms wide after standing up.

Then he'd slowly drop his arms and raise them back up. He flapped them like a bird, his actions mirroring the thrill he felt – like he was flying.

"He would think of things that other people wouldn't," Kim told Knox News. "That's just the beauty of his mind. … Most people wouldn't do that, because it looked different. And it looked so great when he did it, because he's always just going to do the thing that comes into his head. That's a good lesson, to witness somebody that free."

Maybe surfing brings out who you are, Kim pondered, and what you're willing to try. And in turn, your spirit shines through, just like her three sons.

Surfing was never on her radar as a family activity Ben could feel included in until they found Indo Jax. The surfing school in Wrightsville Beach, North Carolina, offers lessons for adults and children, but it also runs camps for kids with and without disabilities. The free therapeutic surf camps serve kids who are medically fragile and those who have intellectual or physical disabilities. The family started going not long after it was founded in 2007.

Shortly after their first camp, Tennessee swimming and diving director Matt Kredich decided to bring the entire team. Over the last 13 years, the annual fall break trip – which leads up to the first meet of the season at UNC Wilmington – has turned into a bonding experience for the team.

"It's wonderful to think that it just started with us looking for an experience that our family could share together and that our son Ben would feel included in," Matt said. "That was the theme of his life … to see all the things that have grown out of that pursuit is kind of awesome."

How a pool changed Ben Kredich's life

The pool in Allan Jones Aquatic Center was Ben's home. Whatever was happening, he always felt included, whether he was competing with different swim teams or singing the national anthem at Tennessee swim meets.

"This just became a setting for him to feel included throughout these different stages of his life," Matt said in a video. "He always felt like he was part of something more than just himself here."

That video was made to honor Ben's life before Tennessee's meet on Nov. 3. Ben was killed on Aug. 21 after he was struck by a car as he walked along Kingston Pike. He was 24.

The driver was initially charged with vehicular homicide and a DUI, and a judge upgraded the charge to a Class B felony. The court case is awaiting a date to be heard by the Knox County Grand Jury.

Swimmers wore caps designed by Ben's twin brother Miles. One side had Ben's name in logo form, the other had a set of orange and blue piano keys because of his love for playing. Ben, and his infectious joy, was beloved by the swimming and diving teams.

"Ben meant a lot to all of us," junior diver Maddie Reese said. "I think Ben kind of helped relationships form within this team, because if no one was talking, Ben would. He could ask a question, and we all would answer and that's what would spark the conversation."

For the last several years Ben wasn't a little brother to them anymore – he was their peer, and they treated him as such. He was their fellow VFL, too, graduating from UT's FUTURE Program in 2021.

It's a difficult thing for Kim to come to terms with, but she can't discount all the things that happened as a result of the tragedy. And a lot of good things may still happen that might be directly related to "that very bad thing."

"There are a lot of people who might never have heard about Ben and what he was like," Kim said. "I've heard from a lot of people, they're making connections now that they wouldn't have made, because they heard about Ben’s resonance with other people."

How Matt Kredich creates a culture of inclusion

Ben never missed a trip to Wilmington with the team. When he was younger, Matt and Kim pulled him out of school to go.

If he didn't ride on the team bus, he'd join the them immediately after arriving with Kim and their two dogs. Ben loved being around the team, and the feeling was mutual.

"I feel so grateful that I got to go to Wilmington for two years with Ben," Reese said. "I would love for us to do something every year in memory of Ben. Maybe dedicating the competition aspect of Wilmington to Ben, because it was awesome to have Ben there all the time. It's something that I deeply missed this year."

There’s an indescribable impact from experiencing true inclusion firsthand, from seeing it play out through their coach every day. Kim has witnessed Matt create that culture for 31 years everywhere he goes. The team follows Matt's lead, and compassion and intentional inclusion are at the core of the program.

The annual trip is just part of it. Everyone is assigned roommates from different classes, and phones are turned in for the long weekend.

Meetings are scheduled between beach workouts, surfing and meals. Some are small groups, others are whole team meetings, and everyone is encouraged to have a voice.

"That's a theme that I've noticed every single year with the trip," junior Griffin Hadley said, "we go in a bunch of individuals, but we move forward as a whole."

Indo Jax founder Jack Viorel also speaks to the team every year about their mission. He witnessed how the belief in inclusion impacted his college-aged daughter, who grew up working with Indo Jax. He sees the same impact on the Vols.

There's a deep understanding of acceptance and inclusion that sinks in after seeing concrete examples of it. They embrace compassion and find ways to include instead of living in their own world. Viorel has even had Tennessee alums volunteer for him after graduating.

"That's an example of the larger picture, of how it doesn't go away," Viorel said. "It's not a tangible thing, right? It's not something that you can lose. That's what makes Matt such a good coach, because it's not about the swimming. I mean, swimming is part of it. But it’s about raising good adults that are going to go out in this world and so something good.

"We’re just stoked that we get to be a little part of that, and it was Ben that connected us."

How the Kredichs found Indo Jax and surfing

Viorel always believed that any a child of any age could do anything.

Some needed extra assistance, but he never had the notion that children couldn't do things. It was a belief confirmed by his first teaching job in 1992.

Viorel worked at a school in a small coastal town next to Half Moon Bay, California. His first classroom was made up of all the children who "didn't fit into a typical classroom." Looking back, Viorel knows a lot of his students were likely on the autism spectrum, but they weren't diagnosed.

One of his students, Alex, used a wheelchair or crutches because her feet weren't fully functional. But she always did everything with the rest of the group using her crutches. When Viorel and a student's father taught the class how to surf, Alex learned, too, because they modified it for her.

She inspired the idea of Indo Jax.

"In the back of my mind, I always thought surfing would be the best thing for kids," Viorel said, "especially ones that are struggling with self-esteem or different issues."

Indo Jax's first camps were for children who were born with AIDS at Viorel's new school in Wilmington. They knew they were on to something after seeing an astounding transformation in the kids, who went back on medication, reenrolled in school and showed significantly improved self-esteem. The next summer they started working with children who were blind or visually impaired and the camps took off.

But it was always Viorel's dream to have inclusive camps. He wanted to include the children who had disabilities with the ones who did not.

"It’s not even about surfing, right? This is not about surfing at all," Viorel said. "Once you go through this process, you realize you can kind of do anything you want to do. You just have to figure out how to do it."

So when the Kredichs first reached out to him about Indo Jax, they realized they couldn't make the dates for the camp for children with autism. But Viorel urged them to sign up for the regular camp.

"The whole point of those is so that you'll just come, and to show you that we’ll take care of you," Viorel told them. "Just sign up for the regular one."

Kim almost couldn't believe it. She almost always had to provide the extra assistance for Ben at camps, because she was adamant that Ben got to participate in the same things as his brothers if possible. She found someone who believed the same in Viorel.

Viorel saw Ben's development every year.

"In a program like ours, you don't always get to prove it, or you don't always get to see that it really is true," Viorel said. "With Ben, we get to see him every year, like, wow, it really is true. It really is. Inclusion is really the way it should be, and we should be finding ways to include these kids in everything."

'We felt very close to Ben there'

The skies at Wrightsville Beach were clear Sunday morning for the first time that weekend.

Everyone gathered on the beach around 6:40 a.m. on Oct. 8, most in long pants and sweatshirts because of the early morning chill. Kim had the whole team line up along the shore as the sun began to rise above the horizon. They joined hands for a relay start, raising them towards the sky.

Afterwards they all called out, "Here comes the sun," in honor of Ben's love for The Beatles. It was the perfect tribute to Ben at the end of a trip he loved more than anything else.

Going to Wilmington without him this fall for the first time was hard. Everyone thinks the holidays will be hardest for the family, Kim said, but it's trips like these that get her. It's impossible to separate his spirit from the trip.

"We felt very close to Ben there," Kim said, her voice thick with emotion. "We feel he’s right there with us through our memories. We laugh, and we cry, and that specific beach trip was very important. It was powerful in all its context with Ben."

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No parent would wish for their child to have autism, Kim said, because it’s hard on a child with the challenges they face to communicate and regulate themselves. But Ben’s life had, and continues to have, a beautiful purpose that Kim could have never foreseen when he was first diagnosed.

The grieving process is much different than she expected, but she’ll never let his death define his life. Instead, when she thinks of her son, Kim thinks of the surfer who did things his own way, arms outstretched – free as a bird.

Cora Hall covers University of Tennessee women’s athletics. Email her at cora.hall@knoxnews.com and follow her on Twitter @corahalll. If you enjoy Cora’s coverage, consider a digital subscription that allows you to access all of it.

This article originally appeared on Knoxville News Sentinel: How Ben Kredich inspired Tennessee swimming and a surfing tradition