I don’t know if I’ve ever linked to Rick Reilly, mainly because his SI.com stuff is usually inaccessible to non-survivors. But SI.com has made Reilly’s most-recent offering available to the masses, and… it’s a good one.

In fact, it’s not so much a column as it is a question of ethics. I’ll let Reilly pose it to you:

This actually happened. Your job is to decide whether it should have.

In a nine- and 10-year-old PONY league championship game in Bountiful, Utah, the Yankees lead the Red Sox by one run. The Sox are up in the bottom of the last inning, two outs, a runner on third. At the plate is the Sox’ best hitter, a kid named Jordan. On deck is the Sox’ worst hitter, a kid named Romney. He’s a scrawny cancer survivor who has to take human growth hormone and has a shunt in his brain.

So, you’re the coach: Do you intentionally walk the star hitter so you can face the kid who can barely swing?

Wait! Before you answer…. This is a league where everybody gets to bat, there’s a four-runs-per-inning max, and no stealing until the ball crosses the plate. On the other hand, the stands are packed and it is the title game.

So … do you pitch to the star or do you lay it all on the kid who’s been through hell already?

When I think about it in terms of what is the right moral answer, to be honest with you, it doesn’t come to me quickly. But when I think about it in terms of what I’d have done if I was coaching the Yankees, I very quickly and easily determine that there’s no way I’d have walked the good hitter to get to the bad one. I just wouldn’t, it wouldn’t be a difficult decision, and here’s why:

This isn’t a league that’s about honest competition. Everyone bats, you can’t score more than 4-per-inning, and you can’t steal. That, to me, is a clear indication that this is a league that is not about honest competition, it is not about playing to win the game, it’s about playing to protect feelings.

And whether or not you think that leagues like that should even exist is an entirely seperate issue; the fact of the matter is that this league exists, that’s what it’s for, and that’s what they’re doing there. That is the goal and spirit of the league, and the coach should have abided by it. Now, whether or not a league with that sort of a goal should have a championship game at all is another issue; one worth exploring for the league organizers next year.

And if you’re the coach of the Yankees, the team that did the walking, how the hell could you celebrate that victory and sleep at night? It’s one thing for the Yankees players to celebrate it, they’re nine. All they know is that they won; the moral dilemmas fall to the adults.

If the coach had to make a quick decision, he got some bad advice, panicked and made the wrong call, fine. We’re all human, it happens. But if he’s actually proud of this victory, and he’s happily celebrating the fact that he coached a group of 9-year-olds to a championship in a non-competitive league by picking on the physically weakest kid on the other team… well, then that guy’s got some problems.

But, just to switch gears for a minute…

If those non-competitive rules weren’t in place, I think this would be an entirely different question. Let’s say the kids are a little older, and the only protection for a bad team or player is a 10-run mercy rule. It’s a competitive league, and the goal is to crown the best team. If that was the case, then I might come down on the other side of the fence here.

With those assumptions, the kid probably never would have been in that position anyway. He might have been subbed out before then, the coach might not have had to play him at all, and he almost certainly wouldn’t be hitting right behind the best player on the team. This would have been a lot less likely to happen.

But if it still had, then I think it would be okay to walk the good hitter to get to the bad one. I’m a big believer in “You Play To Win The Game” (© Herman Edwards). There is value in honest competition. If the kids are working hard to be the best in the league, then the coach owes it to them to do his part to get them the championship they’ve been working for. Now, that is not the situation these Red Sox and Yankees found themselves in, but under different circumstances, it could have been.

And you also don’t want to send the message to the kids on the Yankees that people with disabilities (and I’m not what, if any, specific disabilities this particular kid had, other than just a general physical lack of strength) are to be patronzied, or that they need hand-outs. Altering a time-honored baseball strategy to protect someone’s feelings would not fall under the category of human compassion or helping your fellow man. In a league that’s about protecting feelings, you protect feelings. In a league that’s about competition, you compete, and you make the decisions you have to make to win the game, as best you can, within the rules.

At any rate, I’d be willing to bet that the kid is going to handle this better than any of the adults involved. According to Riley, the kid cried himself to sleep that night, and then the next day, was out in the yard practicing so that one day, he could be the kid who got walked.

And if he never gets to that point, if he’s never a great hitter, he’ll be able to handle that, too. He’s handled a hell of a lot worse. Physically, he may be weak. Emotionally, he’s probably one tough little bastard. He’s probably had to be. At certain points in our lives, we’ve all had to face the realization that we weren’t great at something we wanted to be great at.

That probably shouldn’t happen in a little league game for 9-year-olds where everybody bats. But that day will eventually come. As kids, we all had to realize at some point or another that we weren’t going to be professional athletes, so will he, and I guarantee you that he’ll be well aware of his limitations at the time. It’s not like any of it will come as a surprise to him. He’ll just go through it, like everyone has.

To Rick Reilly, thumbs high for a provocative column. To any coach of the Yankees that feels really good about themselves, you should probably quit coaching nine-year-olds. To the adults who were near-brawling on the field after the game, learn how to control yourselves and set a better example. And to the kid who struck out, best of luck, little man, and I’ve got a hunch that you’re going to be just fine.