Thursday, April 16, 2009

You Throw Like a Girl

The other day four neighborhood kids came over to play with Boo, and eventually we got to throwing and catching a softball (or a tennis ball when Boo wasn't running away with the softball in his mouth). Two of the boys, brothers, had evidently never been taught how to throw a ball; they threw it...well...like girls. They were having a lot of fun, but I felt sorry for them. You see, there are just some things in life that a boy needs to know how to do and one is knowing how to throw a ball...like a boy.

Family lore tells of a very young Thad pinning several older kids against the side of a house with an arm cocked and ready to hurl a dirty, metal Tonka truck at any one of them. As I grew older I was told time and again I had a "great arm" and was a "dead shot" with a ball, rock or snowball. If that was indeed the case, I don't know where it came from. Being fatherless from age four, I had to learn a lot about being a boy on my own. For example, I taught myself how to throw a curve ball from Collier's Encyclopedia (what else!) and my mom had to replace a lot of broken windows. No one, parent or child, questioned my ability to throw. Perhaps it was my one "God-given talent" that I never developed and, thus, now live a life of not-so-quite desperation as a librarian. I'll never know.

But I do know this: there's no greater insult, no greater playground taunt than for a boy to be told he throws like a girl. Other kids may call him four-eyes or a geek; make fun of his momma; give him wedgies; point out how fat he is; pull his sister's hair; or even say his dog is ugly and dumb. All very hurtful things to say, even to an adult. But to a boy they are all like water over a stone compared to being told he throws like a girl. For a boy the ability or inability to throw impacts his confidence in gym class; how high or low he gets picked when teams are being chosen, whether he plays in the grassy areas or sandy part of the playground. It impacts his social standing: boys and girls alike will snicker.

Of course, you could send him to one of those schools that banned games such as dodge ball (or bombardment) and don't allow kids to even high-five each other (see the latest Real Sports with Bryant Gumbel) and really set him up for a life of misery.

I'm not saying he has to have a great, Tonka truck throwing arm. He doesn't have to be the pitcher or the quarterback - I certainly never was. Most likely he won't make his way in life off his ability to throw, which is why he should spend far more time on academics or theater or music or other sports. Nonetheless the ability to throw a ball is a lifelong skill that will serve him well at company picnics, on the intramural softball team, as his daughter's t-ball coach, and in a park when a ball comes rolling up to him and someone yells "A little help, please!"

Teaching your son how to throw a ball may just be the single greatest thing you can do for him. As for the neighborhood kids, I guess it's time we practice throwing. Better board up the windows, Ida.

No comments:

Post a Comment