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Donald Zinkoff is unique. He is an oddball eccentric who loves to run but is the slowest kid in his grade, enjoys school but rarely gets an A, and cares about other people but rarely has any friends. His childhood task isn’t so much to fix these things as simply to accept himself as he is.
Donald thinks about others and their happiness, and he tries to do nice things for them, but these attempts fail, or people don’t appreciate the efforts. In second grade, he tries to be nice to his neighbor Andrew, but his attempt to bake him a giant snickerdoodle cookie fails when the cookie crumbles apart in front of Andrew. Donald loves to run, and in soccer he can do so with abandon, but he’s nearly useless as a player. Completely by accident, he heads a ball into the net during the final moments of the Peewee soccer championship and becomes an unlikely hero. Andrew, on the losing side, sulks until Donald gives him his winner’s trophy; Andrew accepts it like it belongs to him. Donald’s fifth-grade effort to make friends with another student also fall apart, though Donald does his best to be a good companion.
During fourth grade, Donald’s teacher, Mr. Yalowitz, recognizes Donald’s cheerful spirit. Mr. Yalowitz tries to help Donald achieve more success, but these attempts backfire when Donald’s slow running costs his team a relay race and championship. In middle school, Donald always tries to get into a game of pickup basketball, but the team leaders won’t choose him. He does the same during football season, but he’s no good at the game and almost never gets picked.
Late in fifth grade, ashamed because no one wants him for the Field Day relay race, Donald skips school and instead visits the old lady with the walker. They talk aimlessly for a while, and he thinks about his failures: “[H]is breath flutters in his chest and something hard and thorny goes out of him and he tells her everything” (152). She listens as he unburdens himself, describing his many failed adventures and his unsuccessful attempts to make friends.
After that, Donald stops trying so hard to prove himself. He has described who he is to someone with wisdom and experience, and she accepts him, which gives Donald room to accept himself. Thereafter, he’s just as goofy and clumsy as ever, but he no longer minds. It doesn’t matter if he’s a success; instead, it’s his love for life and his many enthusiasms that inspire him. Donald’s compassion also now is at the forefront, and his attempt to rescue Claudia, foolish and inept though it is, makes clear to others that Donald is more about heart than glory and more about love than achievement.
As a second grader with an enthusiasm for running, Donald is perfectly suited to play soccer, except for one detail: He’s terrible at the game. He doesn’t care, but his teammates care very much. Donald discovers the difference between playing for fun and playing to win, and it’s not a pleasant realization.
When they win, the kids crow and parade around proudly in front of their parents. When they lose, though, they are “kicking turf or stomping their feet or pounding their thighs with their fists” (43). Donald simply enjoys playing, but if kicking the turf is the correct thing to do after a game, then he’s happy to comply. He does so, only to receive a scolding from his parents.
After Donald accidentally scores the winning goal in the championship game, his friend on the losing side, Andrew, sulks until Donald quietly gives him his own winner’s trophy. Donald hates to see people unhappy, but his non-competitive gestures often go unappreciated. Winning, it turns out, is the entire point of organized sports, and losers suffer as much as winners exult. Even worse, they continue to beat themselves up as punishment for their loss.
All of this goes right over Donald’s head: He simply loves to play. He is not tainted by the greed, envy, and ambition that so often accompanies children’s sports leagues.
It gets worse when Donald, assigned the role of anchor on his team’s relay race, tries his best but runs so slowly that the team loses its chance to win the championship. Thereafter, kids whisper “Loser” as he walks past. Few are willing to be seen with him.
This competitive, judgmental attitude also emerges in the best athletes’ contempt for Donald. One says of him, “What a spaz […] Look at him. He throws like a girl” (212). When Donald’s old friend Andrew reappears in middle school, he calls himself “Drew,” has his own cell phone, and speaks to Donald with contempt. When Donald asks if Drew’s dad is still in banking, Drew replies icily, “Your father still a mailman?” then takes a call on his cell phone, rudely ignoring Donald and walking away (165).
Donald simply doesn’t understand why kids want to be better than each other. To him, life is such an adventure that there’s no time for mocking other people. Besides, it’s unkind, and Donald has a kind heart.
Although Donald never figures out why children act this way, he learns to accept it. He gets used to the idea that kids will reject him, and that this isn’t nearly as important as feeling enthusiastic and participating in life with his whole self. Without realizing it, Donald wins more than any of the other children—not petty victories but great satisfaction.
Donald’s feet aren’t always in the right place, but his heart always is. He tries his best to do nice things for people, and although not everyone appreciates his good intentions, Donald never gives up doing good deeds.
When, in first grade, kids snatch his giraffe hat and pass it around, wearing it and running about, Donald doesn’t get angry. Instead, he laughs at how much fun the other students are having. If his soccer team loses, he yells “Yahoo!” for the joy of playing and has to be warned off by his more serious teammates. He doesn’t care about wins or trophies, so when his friend Andrew sulks because his team lost the championship to Donald’s team, Donald gives him his own trophy.
Andrew rejects Donald’s attempts at friendship, as does Hector Binns, who’s even odder than Donald but shies away from Donald’s overt attempts to befriend him. Donald tries too hard to be friends, and this backfires. His failures dog him.
Still, he’s not entirely without companionship. At age seven, Donald plays mailman, dropping homemade letters into mailboxes and mail slots along his dad’s delivery route. In the process, he makes two friends: an elderly lady who uses a walker and appreciates Donald’s mailed notes, and Claudia, a toddler on a leash who gives Donald bits of used chewing gum as gifts. These kindnesses toward a very young and very old person come back to him years later, when the old lady listens to Donald’s tearful laments about his lonely life, and when Claudia gives him kisses for trying to save her when she disappeared.
Donald finally realizes that he’s not a bad person but simply a different kind of person—someone with big enthusiasms and an even bigger heart, for whom the other children aren’t ready. Especially when he nearly dies trying to rescue Claudia, adults see the goodness in him. Donald isn’t a goody two shoes: He’s as pesky and troublesome as any other kid. His big heart sets him apart, though. It’s enough to make other students gape in astonishment, if not in appreciation. It will take time, and many years, before Donald’s goodness will be understood by his peers. Meanwhile, his love for life and his desire to give happiness to people are treasures that Donald can enjoy regardless of what others think.
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