It was a quiet Sunday afternoon when I received a phone call from a mother who had just returned from the Waterbury Sunday Baseball League.

“Rabbi Heber,” she said, her voice full of emotion, “I have to share something with you.”

She described a middle school boys’ baseball game she had just watched. Ezzy, a strong hitter known for his power, was up at bat. On the mound stood Yehuda, pitching one impressive throw after another. Ezzy struck out—a rare sight.

But what happened next is what stayed with her.

Instead of reacting with frustration—no bat throwing, no helmet slamming—Ezzy turned to Yehuda and said two simple words:

“Great pitch.”

That was it.

But those two words carried something bigger than baseball. In that short moment, he showed humility, sportsmanship, and awareness. He acknowledged his opponent’s skill with sincerity, even while dealing with his own disappointment. That’s not easy to do at any age.

I recorded the story and shared it. I’ve shared many anecdotes before, but this one resonated. People told me how it sparked real conversations with their children. The simplicity of the moment made the message land: there’s a right way to behave, even—and maybe especially—in competitive moments.

Stories like these remind us what kids are capable of. Not just talent or knowledge, but real depth. When children fall short, it’s often not from a lack of caring—but sometimes, because they haven’t yet been clearly shown what’s expected. That’s where our role as parents and mechanchim becomes so powerful. In a fast-paced world, fundamentals like derech eretz, hakaras hatov, and kavod habrios can easily slip away.

The famous first line of Pirkei Avos is: “Moshe received the Torah from Har Sinai.” It seems almost out of place. Pirkei Avos isn’t about halachah. It’s about middos, values, and interpersonal behavior. So why start with a line about Matan Torah and the handing down of Torah from generation to generation?

Says the Rav on the Mishna: These aren’t just nice ideas. Middos aren’t suggestions. They’re Torah, received at Sinai like everything else. And without them, Torah can’t truly take root.

It’s like placing a perfect diamond in a broken setting. No matter how flawless the gem, it won’t shine the way it’s supposed to. Torah is the diamond. Middos are the setting. Both have to be strong.

This idea of modeling behavior I saw firsthand during our nightly Mishmar program in Waterbury, where nearly a hundred boys and fathers come to learn from Monday through Thursday.

Each night during the learning, I walk around handing out snacks. But I started noticing something. Many boys weren’t saying thank you.

At first, it bothered me. But then I paid closer attention. The boys sitting near their fathers? Most of them were saying thank you. Not because they were better kids—but because their fathers quietly reminded them. “Say thank you.” One soft word. One small prompt. And it worked.

So I tried something. I started pausing after handing out each snack. No instructions, no speeches. Just a short pause to  remind them to say thank you.

And the boys started responding. One by one. Thank you. Thank you. The tone shifted. All it took was a little space. A tiny pause turned into a culture change. For the weeks following, the boys on their own said “thank you”.

As we go through the summer, these are the moments to watch for. Camp. Family time. Sports. These aren’t distractions from chinuch—they are chinuch. These are the places where lessons sink in.

Let’s use this as an opportunity to teach our children, patiently and clearly, what it means to respect others, to show gratitude, and to acknowledge effort. These things take time. They take repetition. But they work.

And the next time a boy strikes out and turns to the pitcher and says, “Nice pitch,” we’ll know it was all worth it.

Rabbi Moshe Dov Heber is a rebbe at Yeshiva K’tana of Waterbury and a division head in Camp Romimu. He writes and speaks on topics of chinuch and inspiration. Rabbi Heber could be reached via email mdheber@ykwaterbury.org