Nothing like sports at its purest level

What a wonderfully odd surprise sight this was as we walked the dog around the park across the street from our house.

A group of kids — about junior-high age — was playing pickup touch football about a million miles from the increasingly troubled NFL.

There were no controversies that we could see over domestic abuse, performance enhancers or Jay Cutler's erratic personality.

The bikes the youngsters rode in on were lying on the ground over by the baseball backstop.

This wasn't an organized youth-league competition. The uniforms weren't uniform at all. The ball wasn't fresh out of the box.

Most refreshing was that there wasn't an adult anywhere nearby coaching, supervising or even simply spectating.

The youngsters in the park on this Saturday morning were just playing ball, that's all, y'all.

They had to make up the rules by themselves. They had to officiate by themselves. They had to imagine the field by themselves.

Ah, nostalgia. This was so reminiscent of the way kids played back in the day — which in my case was way back in the day — and the way you don't see them play as much now.

Word circulated that there would be a game — football, baseball or basketball — and we'd assemble in the playground, on a side street or in an alley.

Then we'd pick sides and get started, each of us thinking we were our favorite pro all-star.

The pass rush was “one Mississippi, two Mississippi … ” and the most sophisticated plays were “you go deep and you go short.”

We'd settle our own arguments, usually peacefully but occasionally with a push here and shove there. Afterward the two tough guys walked off together, laughing and being best buddies again.

The only difference between us and the suburban kids in the grassy park over the weekend was we played football on gravel in a city playground or on concrete in the street.

I don't know how long these youngsters had been out there by the time we spotted them, but they were gone by the time we circled the park.

Maybe they'll be back and make this a regular activity; maybe the next time parents will be there to complicate matters. Who knows what's to come or not to come?

The only thing for sure is that these kids' games should be played by kids, administered by kids and handed down from older kids to younger kids.

You know, as opposed to everything being so organized, fields being manicured and the outcome being written in a score book.

This, of course, contradicts my fascination with Jackie Robinson West's run through this summer's Little League World Series.

Baseball never is more organized than in the LLWS, but the illusion of innocence made the competition acceptable. Then an idea surfaced that Little Leaguers should be compensated in some way, shape or form because adults are making money off the LLWS.

One method proposed would be to establish trust funds that the kids could draw from when they were older.

The people proposing this are reasonable, measured and intelligent. Well-meaning people, they are, some in the media.

Please, though, no.

Let the kids play strictly for the joy of the game. Let them appreciate the competition. Let the experience be enough.

The rewards will be the fun time, the lesson in sportsmanship and the building of character.

If money has to be involved on either the local or national level, OK, maybe let it be in the form of educational tools such as books, computers and scholarships.

Otherwise, allow these formal tournaments to be nothing more than an extension of the informal pickup games that kids ride their bikes to play in at the park.

Let kids good enough for traveling teams play with as little pressure as the kid picked last feels in a neighborhood friendly.

Mostly, just let kids be kids until the worries of the world dictate that they can't be any longer.

mimrem@dailyherald.com