GAIL WHITE Baseball season drains optimism from viewpoint

I will be the first to admit that I spend much of my life looking through rose-colored glasses. Perhaps I am an incurable optimist or hopelessly starry-eyed, but I truly believe in the "silver-lining" theory.
Except when it comes to Little League Baseball.
As the mother of four boys, I spend much of my spring and summer in a lawn chair peering through wire fences.
Every year, I look forward to the season, watching the boys improve their skills and listening to their "awesome play" stories.
Yet, every year, by the time the season is less than half over, I find myself dreading game days with a disdain I had previously reserved for WWF wrestling.
I remember the first year my oldest son played. It didn't take me long to realize that Little League is not about children learning the skills of the game. It is about adult egos.
Through the years, I have also learned that Little League is not about developing good sportsmanship and creating a love of the game.
It is about winning.
Period.
There is no rule that can't be bent or broken to accomplish this means.
There is no child's self-esteem that is not expendable.
Learned as children: It is no wonder that our professional sports are wracked with individuals who commit heinous acts and feel they are above the law to be punished. They have been "playing" that way for years.
I do wonder, however, how many Mark McGwires and Sammy Sosas become discouraged and stop playing before they ever come into their game.
It begins so innocently with T-Ball. Little children in big T-shirts with their hats falling down over their faces, hitting the ball and running as fast as their tiny legs will carry them to first base.
Once, I remember a child hit the ball with all his might (it landed in front of the pitcher) and took off running -- toward third.
We all thought this was funny and memorable.
If that child had been a year older and in Little League, many would not have laughed -- and the memory would have been the child sitting the bench for the rest of the game.
At 7 and 8, all of a sudden, this sport for "fun" turns into major-league proportions -- for adults. The older a player gets, the more intense adults become.
The reality for the player is, if they go to the Dairy Queen after the game, it was two hours well spent.
Of course, a child's desire does go deeper than that. There is a will to achieve and improve and win. Yet, I have found that their perspective is much more in line than their adult counterparts. They truly are looking to have a good time -- win or lose.
(I suppose that their egos are not mature enough to know that you can only have a good time if you win.)
Not all bad: Indeed, I have seen shining examples of Little League sportsmanship.
Last year, I witnessed a coach playing to go to the championship exhibit wonderful coachmanship.
With two runners on base, two outs, one run down and last at-bat, his player struck out. The crowd fell silent as the child hung his head. This coach yelled from first base, "Way to swing at it!" Then, he walked over and gave the child a hug.
That's what Little League Baseball is about.
Unfortunately, last year I also witnessed a coach swearing at an umpire and another cheating to win.
As the players put it, "Get a life!"
How pitiful it is to witness grown adults behaving so repugnantly.
I imagine there is a special place in hell for men who abuse Little League players. They spend eternity with nine demon baseball players who are worse than the worst Little League child they ever had on a team.
An eternity of strikeouts and missed flies!
Losing until the end of time. Oh, what hell!