I grew up in a house without sports. Nobody watched Monday night football, we couldn’t name more than one or two NBA teams and Thanksgiving was about a parade and a turkey, nothing else.

So when my son decided he wanted to play football, I somewhat apprehensively opened the door to a whole new world. We went to his games and watched his skills grow. We listened to him talk about plays, about penalties, scoring and the different positions and their respective jobs. We struggled to learn the game but remained enthusiastic parents in the bleachers who yelled all the wrong things: “Go Defense” when it was really offense; “Let’s get a tackle” when they should be blocking.

I kept my phone at my side so I could text various friends who understood the ref’s calls, why the clock wasn’t running, or why they were kicking and not running the ball. Through it all, we cheered, hooted and hollered and learned to love the game.

My son played on a local youth league that has a junior and senior team, and through his first season they never saw a win.

During Season 2, he played on the senior team. With two games left in the season, his team still had no wins. Then, for the first time since he donned a helmet and pads, they won a game. They worked hard, they played like a team, and they made it work.

Through every loss (and one tie), they held their heads high and, as hard as it was to watch, we parents congratulated them and assured them “next time.” And after every loss, they marched across the field and congratulated the winning team. Those teams were respectful, but when his team turned around to head back to their bench, I always imagined how hard it was for them to hear the cheering behind them.

So they finally won, and they won by a lot. Before the game was even over, I knew this was going to be their night to walk back to the bench and cheer. And I knew they would congratulate the losing team because for nearly two seasons they learned what it meant to show good sportsmanship in sports and to respect a team for giving it their all.

But I was wrong. The opposing team’s coach decided, in the biggest sign of poor sportsmanship I’ve ever seen, to pull his team off the field and not recognize our win. Our boys were confused, and a part of this victory was stolen from them.

Our coaches and parents were furious, but we focused on the positive, on the hard-earned win, and tried to ignore what was happening on the other side of the field.

I wonder how many times this sort of thing has happened in youth sports in this country. How many coaches, the people who have a sole purpose of teaching teamwork and good sportsmanship, have failed.

These are the men and women that, for a few months every year, become the center of the universe for some kids. They are leaders who have an immense part in molding these kids’ perspectives on what it takes to be a team player, to be a leader, to be a follower, to be an American … to be human.

My heart goes out, not only to the kids on my son’s team whose hard work was snubbed, but also to the kids on the other team who were taught that it’s not OK to lose. Pulling them off the field like that also robbed them of the hard work they put into the game.

If coaches have problems with other coaches, they should deal with it off the field, behind closed doors and like adults. This world has enough problems as it is, and what the other coach did when my son’s team won, for me, dampened a beautiful thing that this country has: watching our kids play sports.

I want to thank my son’s coaches and parents for keeping it positive. That’s what wins games, that’s what has turned a non-football fan (me) into a football fan, and that’s what will keep us coming back.

We are strong, we won a game, and we’re all proud of those boys and girls who gave it their all.

David C. Inman is a resident of Monroe.