Get a group of middle-aged guys together over a beer, discussing their youth, and some variation of this theme might pop up:

When we were kids, we played outside all summer long. Sun-up to sundown, we were out playing baseball, basketball, football.

No adults, just kids having fun, organizing their own sports.

Yeah, there were disputes, fights, unsportsmanlike conduct. We generally refereed ourselves pretty well, though.

But kids today (there’s a phrase that always signals a nostalgia-induced lecture coming) don’t seem to have the capacity to organize themselves. Many can’t seem to put together pickup games.

Instead, they only play adult-organized sports — Little League, soccer, football, basketball. Travel teams. AAU squads.

There’s nothing wrong with organized youth sports. But ironically, too much adult supervision has resulted in an epidemic of childish behavior. By the adults!

Somehow the ante has been upped to ridiculous levels. Dads (and some moms) put enormous pressure on their kids in these high-stakes contests. Parents have organized all the life out of youth sports, leaving kids ill-equipped to amuse themselves without adult involvement.

Maybe it’s the cost and commitment of traveling to various locations for tournaments — gas, hotels, meals, etc. Maybe it’s parents’ fantasies that their little Johnny Football is going to get a college scholarship (statistically unlikely — better to emphasize academics).

Whatever the reason, at these sporting events the parents are amped, the kids are hyped up and the officials might as well wear bulls-eyes on their jerseys rather than stripes.

How did that happen?

How did we go from carefree kids playing ball in the summer for the sheer joy of it to “crazy hockey dads”?

How did we become obnoxious jerks, shouting obscenities to officials from the sidelines?

Did we ever in our darkest dreams imagine getting into fistfights with coaches or refs over bad calls — or not enough playing time?

OK, “we” is an overgeneralization. Most parents do behave themselves on the sidelines or bleachers. Some even help police the bad behavior of other spectators.

You’ve heard the old joke, “I went to the fights, and a hockey game broke out.”

Sadly, nowadays that could apply to any youth sporting contest — and the fight might not even involve the players.

We middle-aged dads (and moms) need to think back to our old sandlot days and remember why we were playing.

It was exhilarating — a great way to burn off the energy of youth.

We were playing for the fun of it — for ourselves, not for our parents.

It’s about the kids, not you, “Bonkers baseball dad,” or “Loudmouth lacrosse mom.”

Imagine how embarrassed you would have been as a kid to have your parents shrieking on the sidelines.

Sit down, parents, shut up and just let the kids play.