KIDS THESE DAYS:

Because baseball is such a quiet game, and because parents sit so close to the action, they can tell their kids how to play with a reasonable expectation that players will hear. Of all the youth sports, baseball is the only one in which parents get that chance to be heard.

My mental checklist for youth sports includes soccer, tennis, football and basketball. Yes, there are other sports, but these are the most popular sports in which the littlest kids play. As they mature and get into high school sports, players usually tune out the screaming dad.

You know the dads I’m talking about: They come to Little League games as experts and insist on making sure that their future Hall of Famer is receiving the specific instructions he or she needs to become a superstar.

Those instructions to that 10-year-old can include tips on shifting his weight, opening his stance or gripping the bat. And if the player is unfortunate enough to be a pitcher, they get a double dose of dad.

When our son was playing Little League just a few years ago, I recall more than one dad who got up when his kid came to bat and stood behind the backstop talking to him before, during and after every pitch.

I’m not sure what it is about these Little League dads that causes them to lose any sense of propriety and fun. It may be that they are trying to live a new Little League life through their kid, or it could be that they have this controlling nature — the desire to make sure everything goes just the way they want all the time.

Whatever it is, it can often ruin what is otherwise one of the great experiences of youth.

Dads who cheer are fine. Dads who yell instructions should stop, if for no other reason than it could interfere with some instructions the team’s manager or coaches have given. Dad may be telling junior to loosen his grip on the bat while the coaches are telling him to tighten it.

But more important is their complete lack of understanding of what is going on in the player’s head while he is at the plate or on the pitcher’s mound.

Because they have forgotten, I will remind them. Dads, when your Little Leaguer is hitting, he is first thinking, “Cool! I get to hit!” Then he’s thinking, “I hope I don’t screw up!”

And here is what he is not thinking: “I sure hope my dad yells some instructions to me while I’m up here so I can become a better player.”

What these kids want is encouragement, not hitting lessons. If you want to yell, and you should, try something supportive, not instructional.

Dads, if you want to teach your Little Leaguer how to play baseball, the time to do that is before or after school, or on weekends, not when he has the bat in his hands during a game.

Same goes for the kids on the pitcher’s mound.

What’s that, Dad, you’re working and you can’t do that during the week?

Save it, pal. I am one of thousands of dads who made the time during the week for years. I gave up a lot of potential income to do it, but it was worth every cent.

I got my payback not long ago when my son mentioned to me how lucky he was to have his dad coaching him all those years.

Little League dads, I have some news for you: Junior is not going to play in the major leagues. Got that? Yeah, I know, your kid is an exception. And so is the son of every other dad sitting in the stands.

Once you understand that your child’s experience in Little League is not for you and not for any stepping stone to another level, once you realize that all they want to do is have fun and eat the snacks after the game, something wonderful is going to happen: Your relationship with your child will improve.

And that is something to shout about.

STEVE SMITH is a Costa Mesa resident and a freelance writer. Send story ideas to dailypilot@latimes.com.