Dodgeball: A True Underdog Story

One of my favorite memories from the 5/8 Summer Program this year happened during a game of dodgeball, believe it or not.  Every day we played organized team sports for half an hour, and everyone is required to participate.  We do this not only for the physical activity and because it's fun (for most), but it lets us emphasize good sportsmanship (which many of the boys do not yet excel in).  Before every game (whether it's soccer, basketball, football, ultimate frisbee, kickball, or dodgeball), we go over the three rules: play by the rules of the game, respect your teammates and opponents, and shake hands after the game.

We always try to make the teams as even as possible, but after the first few games, the boys asked that we play kids versus leaders.  We giddily accepted, hoping to recreate the famous Billy Madison scene.  While we're grown men and they're 10-13 years olds, they did have us outnumbered 11 to 5.  In the first minute, the kids were dropping like flies.  I couldn't help but laugh at how easy this was.  But as their numbers thinned, it got increasingly difficult for us.  A leader had his throw caught, and another couple got hit.  All of a sudden, it was two-on-two, Thomas and I versus J and C.  J probably had the best arm on his team.  C is not much of an athlete; during free time, he usually plays foosball while most of the boys play basketball.  If we let the kids pick the teams, he'd probably be the last one picked.  I caught C not looking near the half line, but in my excitement running towards him, I crossed the line and was out.  Thomas got J out, and it was just him and C.  This matchup was so lopsided that Vegas would probably refuse to take bets on it.  With the rest of the kids cheering C on, and us pulling for Thomas, they battled back and forth.  As Thomas's arm tired, he hurled the ball toward C, and C caught it!  Thomas was out, the kids won, and C was the hero!  His teammates roared and ran to mob him, hugging him and slapping him on the back.  I've never seen anyone smile so big.  I was so excited that C got to experience that moment, and so happy to see the way his teammates embraced him.  Losing never felt so good.

The Great Doughnut Caper

One of our service projects this summer was a Breakfast and Bingo Senior Social for elderly residents in our neighborhood.  We had some leftover food from the event, including two boxes of glazed doughnuts.  We served one to the boys that day, and stored the other in the church refrigerator.  The next day, when we pulled the leftover box of doughnuts out, my co-leader Richard noticed that a piece was missing from one.  He noted that it wasn't like that when we arrived that morning, so it must have happened while we were there.  He said we wouldn’t serve them until we figured out who had eaten from it.  Richard and I assumed it was one of the kids; the kids assumed it was me.  I assured them that if it was me, I would’ve eaten the whole thing.  I couldn’t help but laugh as accusations were hurled back and forth.  Finally, the youngest boy in the group, aged 10, offered a theory:

During our reading time, the man who provided our lunch that day, an employee of the church, had gone into the kitchen.  He opened up the refrigerator, and when he closed it, he was chewing on something.

This was a tantalizing story, one which made perfect sense as the boy recounted it.  Perhaps the perpetrator wasn’t in the room after all!  One of the leaders and the boy went to the man’s office to interrogate him.  Unfortunately, he was out to lunch.  The 10-year-old earnestly asked me that if he was right, could he have a prize.  I said yes.  An hour went by, and it was time for us to take the boys home.  But first, a leader and I went back to the suspect’s office.  When confronted with the evidence, he confessed.  He didn’t think they were ours, and didn’t think anyone would miss them.  We accepted his apology, and I took the good news back to the group: the doughnut caper had been solved!  Each boy received half a doughnut, and our amateur sleuth received a full one. We could all rest easy knowing a thief was not in our midst.

Making Things Right

By living in the community with the boys we work with, we’re able to hold them to high standards not only during 5/8 Club meetings but also in the neighborhood.  Two days after our Summer Program ended, I got a call from someone who said his neighbor’s bike was stolen, and he had reason to believe some of the 5/8 boys were the ones who took it.  A little investigating confirmed that some of the boys had it, and shortly thereafter they actually showed up at our house with it, wanting to pump up the tires.  We called the bike’s owners, whom we knew (and who knew some of the boys), and they came and retrieved the bike.

From here, this situation could have gone in a number of directions.  The victims could have filed a police report, charges could have been pressed, and the boys could have ended up in court.  Or, satisfied that the bike was recovered, the victims could have gone home and let the kids’ parents take it from there, most likely punitively.  Fortunately, the victims chose to pursue a restorative process, one which I’m trained in from my days working for Restorative Community Foundation. 

Our traditional justice system is adversarial, pitting the state against the offender (with little role for the victim), and punishment is meted out with little regard for the victim, offender, or community’s needs.  The beauty of the restorative process is that it is collaborative, inclusive, and affirms the value of both victim and offender.  We spoke to the boys involved and their parents, and invited them all to attend a conference with the family whose bike was stolen.  We also had a few community members there who knew everyone in the room and were involved in the recovery of the bike.  As facilitator, I was neutral.

After explaining the rules of the circle and having everyone introduce themselves, I asked the bike owners what happened.  I then asked the boys what happened (they freely admitted to taking the bike), and asked the community members if they had anything to add.  I then asked everyone how it made them feel.  The bike owners’ feelings ranged from confused to upset; the son explained that the bike is how he gets to practice.  One of the boys said he was scared.  The parents and community members expressed disappointment and embarrassment.  Next, I asked the victims about their needs and how it could be made right.  The mother wanted an apology.  A parent suggested the boys do manual labor at the victims’ house or for Abundant Life.  One by one, each boy offered an apology without coercion, and the victims expressed their gratitude.  Everyone agreed that the boys would do some labor at the victims’ house as restitution.

The difference in expressions on everyone’s face from Thursday afternoon, when the bike was stolen, and even from that morning when everyone arrived for the conference, was stark.  Anxiety, anger, and heavy hearts were replaced by smiles and sighs of relief.  Everyone seemed pleased with the outcome, and peace, justice, and dignity were restored.