Living together in the house, the parents are sure, has cemented a kind of kinship that will soften such blows.
With support from Gallagher and, by extension, the state, the "boys" have been able to live as largely independent adults. All have day jobs - they range from custodial work at BWI Marshall Airport to shifts at McDonald's - and in the evenings, between making phone calls to family members or listening to music, they scrub floors, work in the yard or do their own laundry.
"Not too long ago," says Kelley Schniedwind, a spokeswoman for Special Olympics Maryland, "guys in their situation would have lived a more isolated life, without much physical activity. We've come a long way in the past 20 or 30 years."
And the Special Olympics have done more than give them a chance to compare their ever-growing piles of medals.
Brick got the journey started at 6, when he decided to try out for swimming. "It kind of surprised people, seeing this little kid go right down the pool," says his mother, Judy Brick, who works in an Annapolis art gallery when she's not helping the other parents support the house - a process that has turned the parents, too, into friends.
Over the next four years, Bobby Brick amassed a collection of medals. The others got involved as well, and the four - students at Central Special Education Center in Edgewater, a county school for developmentally disabled youth - challenged one another while always looking forward to the fun of the next meet.
"It's what they lived for then, and it's what they live for now," says Judy Brick. "Special Olympics has really been a blessing for all of us."
As gathering clouds threaten the last practice before the Games, Raleigh herds the three into a van (Day's parents are taking him out to dinner) and steers into rush-hour traffic on the way to Old Mill High.
A sense of excitement grows as the athletes name the events they'll take part in this weekend - mostly sprints and distance runs - as well as other delights they look forward to.
"The parade!" says Brick. (He means Friday's Olympic-style opening ceremonies, complete with an appearance by Ravens quarterback Joe Flacco.)
"The party," says Rickard (a Saturday night dance for all competitors).
"The pool," says Valaske, who's registered for some swim events.
As they arrive at the track, the clouds have parted enough that Moutanabbih and another coach, Eva Tucholsky of Annapolis, agree it's safe for them to do a few laps after all. She watches as they circle the cinders.
Like many volunteers, she has coached as many as five sports a week - in addition to working a full-time job. "I don't think about the dis," she says, as if in explanation. "I think about the 'ability.' Look at them go."
Rickard is out front, jaw jutting as he lengthens his stride. Brick slows down to a trot every so often but completes his mile and a half in 18 minutes.
Valaske? He walks the entire six laps, never looking up as he churns his arms and legs.
"Remember, Marty never hurries," says Raleigh with a fond laugh as she watches from the sidelines. "It's one of the things that make him special."
