A Reason Not to Have Children

I cannot think of a better reason for not having children at this point than Little League Baseball. I know on the surface, this makes no sense, but hear me out. If I were to have a child, they would most likely end up a baseball fan, as I consider myself a fan. If this were the case, they would most likely wish someday to PLAY baseball, and that would probably mean that I would end up at a Little League game. As it turns out, the parents of Little Leaguers are so despicable, that they can actually turn something as pure and wholesome as CHILDREN PLAYING BASEBALL and turn it into something DESPICABLE. I cannot even begin to express how stupid this is. It seems clear that if I were to attend a little league game there would have to be an elaborate screening process through which anyone that wanted to speak to me would have to pass. And I would probably have to be restrained like Hannibal Lecter, or at the very least, Ice Cube at the start of xXx: State of the Union to keep other people safe, and me out of the newspapers. You know it would be turned against me too. For example, some guy that got cut from his company softball team would spend 45 minutes berating an umpire for a strike call against his kid that he didn't even really see because he was buying a hotdog. Then, he would saunter over to me, start trying to get me to agree with him, then make some crack about "musta learned that from the old man" after my kid made an error, which is inevitable. For anyone that has never seen one of these games, they should really count "non-errors" instead of errors, just to save effort. I would reply with something like, "it's a learning experience" or something, and then he might point out that it cost the team a run. At this point, I would probably go to the bathroom and then sit somewhere else, pretending to see someone I knew but my new buddy would find me and start in again. To avoid being any more tedious than I have already been, I will just sum the rest up. My new friend continues to berate the opposing team and umpires like he's at an MLB game harassing Barry Bonds. I would "politely" ask him to "shut up" (meaning probably work a crack about his mom into a crack about his role on the company softball team), and then he'd probably flip out, and then I am in the newspaper as one of "those" dads. Doesn't seem fair.