Yesterday morning, my son Max outscored his basketball opponents 12-6. The rest of his team chipped in another 12. Some parents of kids on the other team were outraged at this horrific display of sportsmanship.

The issue wasn't Max's (unprecedented) offensive prowess. Even those who thought he was a third grader (a common complaint) couldn't argue too much with that. The problem was the defensive intensity of his team. This is a second grade league, and Max and most of his (all second-grade) teammates are at least four-and-a-half feet tall. That puts them in the 90th percentile (or higher), and can make it difficult for opposing teams to get off a shot. Especially when the guys get their hands up.

Most kids are not aggressive enough when they first start playing team sports. It's a lot easier to ratchet down the few obsessively competitive kids than to teach an entire gaggle how to attack fairly and confidently. I've worked with a number of soccer teams, and I'm always amazed at how many kids are afraid to even approach the ball. So teaching aggressive play is, in fact, important. Not just important, but probably the first thing that must be taught.

Unfortunately, the league isn't clear on what rules are to be enforced. Fouls are not called, although egregious assaults will result in a cooling off. Traveling isn't called either, which results in some kids barreling toward the hoop like Jim Brown. There is no backcourt rule and out-of-bounds is sketchy (there aren't any lines on the courts). The only hard-and-fast rule is that you can't play defense until the offensive team has brought the ball up the floor.

This is, in fact, a big problem. Max and his teammates have figured out that if they line up four-strong in a line just pat midcourt and hold up their hands, it's almost impossible for the average second-grade team to get through.

Look at it this way. You're an average four-foot (or somewhat shorter) second grader. You're walking the ball up the court. And you see four giants in front of you, waving their arms and just waiting for you to approach them. What would you do?

Okay, I would have dribbled into the middle of the line and taken my chances. Chances are I would've have made it through. Without the ball. After all, fouls aren't called.

That's not fair, but it's the rule. If a team does break down the line, the guys have been assigned players in a man-to-man scheme and the game proceeds. Until somebody holds the ball and the big kids pounce in a double, triple or quadruple-team.

Most of the time, Max simply stands in front of the player he's defending and holds his arms up straight. This is extraordinarily intimidating, of course, but it's a legal play. And I think it's fair. If he were putting his arms over the head of the opposing player, that would be unfair. In a real game, his opponent would merely have to jump into his arms to get a foul called. But this, of course, is a kids rec league and there are no fouls.

And while I do believe that teaching kids to be aggressive and to double and triple-team players who hold onto the ball is the right way to go, maybe it's not fair for kids this young. If I was three-and-a-half feet tall and I had four boys a whole foot taller surrounding me, I think I might get a wee bit upset.

So maybe no double-teaming. That would help. It wouldn't have stopped Max's scoring, though, most of which were breakaways after steals or rebounds. He's figured out that some teams take their time to get down on defense, and if he simply runs down the court (while dribbling) he'll get a fairly easy shot. It's kinda cool to see that awareness show up in the middle of a game. And I don't think there should be any complaining about that sort of play.

Last year, Max's team fell behind 46-4 at halftime (after twelve minutes played) in one game. His team was facing an older team that had learned how to shoot. Max's team kept trying to throw court-wide passes. The other team would intercept them, dribble down, square up and take shots. Even while scoring 46, they missed more than they made. Max was a bit down after that game (I don't recall the final score), but I thought the game was fairly played. The other team didn't taunt; it played hard. Just like Max's team yesterday.

The biggest problem with team sports at such young ages is that the kids have such disparate levels of experience and skill. My younger son Sam just turned five, but he's been playing soccer against older kids for three years. He wipes the floor with kids his age. That advantage will disappear as he gets older. But would it be fair to tell him to stop playing hard? No. What's fair is to tell him to play defense or to pass to his teammates rather than score every minute or so.

There are three dominant players on Max's team. For a few weeks, his coach was putting all of them on the floor at once. That's not fair. He's breaking that line up now, but the fact remains that he's coaching a team of relatively skilled giants. And the he needs to work a little harder to figure out a way to be a bit more fair to the smaller, less-experienced teams in the league.

Kids sports are not about winning. They're about learning the game, doing your best and dealing with adversity. While Max's team has won most of its games this year (something that did not happen last year), I'd say both seasons are equally successful. Max entered last year having never played basketball. By the end of the season, he'd learned a lot. And as we face the final game of this year, I can say he's one of the better players in his league. He's learned a lot this year as well. He plays fairly and, much of the time, tries to play as part of a team. All of that is much more important than scoring twelve points in a game.

Maybe that's an old hyper-competitive hippie equivocating. Maybe. But kids should play. And they should play hard. And they should enjoy winning and be (at least a little) upset about losing. 'Cause, y'know, that's life. And life ain't fair.

Jon Worley played in one "real" basketball game as a kid. He scored two points. And committed three fouls. And learned how to properly address the scorer's table. A complete success, in his book.