ORONO – As any coach will tell you, there are plenty of ways to motivate an athlete. Sometimes, a stern word works.

Other times, praise is the answer.

And sometimes, apparently, coaches have to put their money where their mouths are.

At least that’s the tactic coach Jerry Dickson took Saturday as Shawn Levasseur firmly gripped a softball and prepared to throw at the Special Olympics Maine Summer Games.

While officials stood barely 30 feet away, awaiting a typical, run-of-the-mill toss, the 29-year-old Levasseur toed the line and showed them they’d underestimated him.

Boy, did they underestimate him.

Levasseur didn’t take a running start. He didn’t make all kinds of pre-throw gyrations, like some of the athletes did. He just dug his feet into the soft University of Maine turf … and let fly.

The secret, Levasseur said, was simple.

“[Dickson] said he’d give me 10 bucks if I hit the fence,” the Gorham man said.

The fence, as it turned out, wasn’t in danger. But Levasseur did draw back and whiz a throw that had the officials ducking … and taught them a lesson.

The next two times Levasseur stepped up to throw, the volunteers gave him the respect he deserved. They ran for cover.

“If I gave him a 20, he probably would have got it,” Dickson joked later.

Levasseur, of course, nodded his approval.

Dickson chuckled at the memory of his athlete’s winning throw.

“Incentive works,” he said.

More than 1,000 athletes and coaches gathered at the Beckett Family Track Complex on Saturday for the annual Summer Games. And for each athlete, it seemed the form of incentive was different.

Take Brian Robinson of Levant.

The 22-year-old eagerly demonstrated the softball-throwing form he’d use to finish fifth.

Robinson opts for a couple of warm-up arm pumps, and then lets loose an accurate underhand throw.

But his personal incentive threatened to get in the way of competition.

The secret: food.

As soon as he got done throwing, Robinson would embark on another, more primal quest for a bit of sustenance.

And while an entourage of family members cheered each toss, the allure of a hamburger clearly was beginning to battle for supremacy in Robinson’s mind.

He had his sister, Morgan, to thank for that.

After his final – and longest – throw of the day landed squarely on the measuring tape, he punctuated the effort with a vigorous fist pump and a broad smile.

Then, after Robinson received his ribbon, 7-year-old Morgan told him exactly what completing his event meant … to her, at least.

Food.

“We’re gonna get doughnuts … and french fries … and …,” Morgan said as Robinson’s smile grew wider and wider.

“He’s got to run later,” a family member reminded Morgan as the group headed off in search of food.

Some athletes, though, had plenty of incentive. In fact, some were a bit overeager to get their events started.

Like Tony Dickinson, for instance.

Dickinson, who competed for the Mobius team of Damariscotta, lined up for the 100-meter dash with seven other racers, toed the starting line … and didn’t wait for the gun.

At the starter’s “set” command, Dickinson bolted, then stopped when he heard the good-natured razzing of other athletes – both those in his heat and those queued up behind the starting line for subsequent races.

After the race, Dickinson didn’t offer any excuses for his early start.

“I sorry,” he said with a sheepish grin.

While Sherrie Lang of Bangor, who competed for the OHI team, didn’t copy Dickinson’s quick-starting technique, she did try to get every possible inch of advantage she could in the 100.

Lang initially started with a foot over the line, then slowly edged back … back … back … at the starter’s urging so that she wasn’t getting an unfair edge.

As she waited in Lane 1 for her race to start, the 32-year-old Lang kept up a conversation with her coach, Tess Collins.

“She’s one of the most enthusiastic people I know,” Collins said.

And after finishing the 100, Lang still was enthusiastic. Maybe a bit too much.

While telling the story of her race – and waiting for the awards ceremony – Lang gestured wildly with her arms.

Unfortunately, fellow athlete Linda Curtis was standing in the way of a good story.

“Oh,” Lang said, after a flailing arm connected with the top of Curtis’ head.

“I bomped you on the head. Sorry.”

Curtis didn’t mind, and a quick hug made everything right … just like it always seems to at the Special Olympics.

In some cases, incentive couldn’t overcome one hard fact: You can’t get from the starting line to the finish without expending quite a bit of energy.

Joshua Strong of Mobius is fast. He won his heat of the 200, but that doesn’t mean he enjoyed the entire experience.

After chugging around the corner and building up a sizeable lead, the 25-year-old Strong looked to the infield, saw a sympathetic face, and asked the question 200-meter runners have been asking themselves for years.

“Am I there yet?” he puffed.

Not yet. But close.

For others, incentive could be found in the form of attention. Big-time, interview-me, media-hogging attention.

“Are you the news?” Scott Saindon of Auburn asked, spotting a notepad.

When he heard an affirmative answer, Saindon got right to the point … with a single point of his finger.

The football scoreboard, you see, kept showing pictures of Miss Maine, who was at UMaine for the event, greeting athletes and signing pictures.

Saindon figured he ought to get a little bit of airtime, too.

“Can you put my picture up there?” he asked, pointing at the scoreboard.

A coach, knowing Saindon wouldn’t be seeing his face up in lights Saturday, deflected the comment in a time-tested way Brian Robinson would appreciate.

“Lunch,” she said, simply.

Saindon promptly forgot about the scoreboard, and his picture, and the media.

“I’m a hungry bear,” he said, softly.

Then he happily ambled off in search of a snack.