Braving Boys

Hey, batter!

We’re not opposed to bribing boys for certain behaviors, although we prefer to call it “motivating” boys or “inspiring” boys, because, well,  it just sounds better. We did it recently with grades. We told Joey and Danny we’d pay them for each A (Joey) and each E (Danny), and surprise — Joey brought home straight As on his first 9-week report card, and Danny delivered mostly Es.

Some say kids should not be financially rewarded for doing well in school, they should shine scholastically because it’s expected. I say showing up is expected. Excelling is icing on the cake. And, hey, we’re all for helping our boys pile on the icing.

My mom bribed motivated Joey this weekend, and I must say it worked wonders. You see, my poor guy has been in a batting slump. Once known for cracking the ball with ease, the kid had gone several baseball games without  making any hint of contact. He became so discouraged, he was pretty sure he’d never choose to play ball again. And then something generous happened: His Nana offered him $10 for each hit during tournament play. Score. The kid hit, and hit, and hit, and hit — that’s four hits, which means Joey is now $40 richer. I’m pretty sure he might play on a team again. I’m definitely sure his confidence is restored, and there’s nothing better than that at the end of a season.

Is Joey only getting good grades and hitting baseballs because of the cash that awaits him? Maybe. Is that a problem? Nope. He still makes his bed voluntarily. He cleans up after himself free of charge and he drags in the trash can every Tuesday morning simply because it’s his job — not because there’s a fee attached. For some tasks, however, we will inspire our kids with a little moolah. The way I see it, it’s partly (perhaps mostly) why we all perform well in our jobs — because we want the prize that comes in the form of a pumped-up paycheck.

And then it’s entirely possible the money didn’t inspire — maybe Joey rocked the start of third grade because he’s just that smart. And maybe his coaches and dad and uncle, who spent hours fine-tuning his swing and stance, are to credit for the comeback. Perhaps it’s a combination of everything — smarts, good coaches and funds. And if that’s the case, I couldn’t be happier.

Joey, catching

Joey got a home run tonight, which we think is pretty awesome, of course. He also played catcher for the very first time — we’re excited about that, too. “How was it?” we asked him just after the winning game. “It hurt,” he declared — something about getting hit in the foot, and the knee, and the face, and well, his tooth was loose so that was a little distracting. But hey, there’s still the home run, plus he’s a few bucks richer after getting paid for the tooth that was out of his mouth by game’s end. So all in all, the boy scored big tonight.

No. 10, Donaldson

Joey is playing fall ball now, fine-tuning the skills he started building in his summer league. He’s doing quite well — got a triple today, and his coaches are trying him out at first base — but there are a few differences between the two seasons.

No coaches pitching, just a machine that whips the ball 45-mph ball at my boy. Stinging hands are a side effect. Batting gloves help.

Cups are required. Cups are uncomfortable. Cups make Joey feel like he’s wearing a diaper.

Concessions fund this league, which means parents must take turns working, which means John will be working.  Making change is not my strong suit.

Dress code required. Well, not really, but many moms and dads were decked out in the team color to show their support. Note to self: Buy red.

Players get numbers on their shirts. Joey is No. 10.

Of all the skills these two boys have picked up this summer on their baseball teams, batting comes out on top. They both knew virtually nothing about America’s favorite pastime at their first practices and now, they can throw the ball, catch the ball, field the ball and kill. the. ball. with their beautiful and powerful swings. Danny (my Cubs guy) did it the other night during his second-to-last game of the season — it would have been a home run had his first base coach told him to run right away, instead it was a triple — and Joey (Braves) smacks the ball every time he steps up to the plate. He cracked it six times at his last game — and I mean crack. Love that sound.

Baseball is over for Danny this year, and his trophy sits proudly on a shelf in his bedroom. Joey has one more game left, and we can’t wait to see what the guy has left in him. A homer, maybe? Could be in the cards.

They appear as mere specks, but here, my boys dive for the very first time off the high dive at a city swimming pool. We’d never been to this pool before today, even though we’ve looked at it countless times from the park/playground it neighbors.

This was just one stop on my tire-these-boys-out tour on this fine Thursday. Before splashing, diving and barreling down a twisty slide, my guys spent four hours at a sports-type camp. Then came the swim, then two hours at home (rib dinner included — found them at a grocery store this morning), then baseball practice for the big guy. They could do little more than shuffle themselves inside to hit the shower when it was all over, and now they sleep peacefully, like little angels, storing up more energy for another day.

Above: Danny, diving

Above: Joey, diving

Danny spends most of his time during baseball practices and games staring at the clouds, picking daisies and drawing circles in the dirt. He’s 6 years old, and I think this is OK. One day, while playing second base and holding his glove between his knees — obviously enjoying a beautiful daydream — a ball sailed right by him. He never knew it. Last night, during a game, he actually stopped a ball. Instead of throwing it to the first base girl (who happened to be his cousin Jordan), Danny squeezed that ball in his glove and walked right back to position. The batter was safe at first.

We keep cheering for Danny, even though he doesn’t quite get the game of baseball, because he is trying as hard as he can and, well, because he is one heck of a batter.