NEW YORK — They are spraying instruction and encouragement across the diamond, arms folded and faces stern, reacting to pitches with a fist pump and a sharp "Yesss!" — or a frustrated stomp of the foot.

They are sports parents, peacefully taking in an early summer youth baseball game in Brooklyn's Prospect Park, and they are behaving themselves.

Or so it would seem.

But the ideal sports parent doesn't just keep in check all desires to berate the umpire, strangle the coach and belittle the rival players. If the absence of violence and derision is the new standard for civilized soccer moms and football dads, Hall of Fame shortstop Cal Ripken Jr. has some sobering news: That's not good enough.

The real measure of our success, Ripken says, comes when the kids are doing what they're supposed to — smiling, laughing and having a blast.

In "Parenting Young Athletes the Ripken Way: Ensuring the Best Experience for Your Kids in any Sport," the former Baltimore Orioles great argues for a youth sports experience driven not by trophies, scholarships and glory, but by building relationships, growing as a person and, most of all, enjoying it.

"Nothing will turn your child away faster from athletics than if you order, or demand, that he keep practicing," Ripken writes.

"In fact, the truth is, when I was a kid playing sports, my own parents didn't push activities onto me or my siblings at all."

Having fun breeds passion, passion leads to dedication, and with that follows success. If it's meant to be, recruiting letters — and, just maybe, fame — will take care of themselves.

Coming from anyone else, it might seem simplistic, even preachy. Not from Ripken, who developed his skills playing sandlot ball and went on to become a beacon of sportsmanship, loyalty and excellence in an era when greed and selfishness were taking over professional sports.

Since he retired in 2001, baseball's "Iron Man" has been raising — and coaching — his son and daughter in the tradition of his father, a minor and major league baseball skipper who managed his son's team briefly in the late 1980s.

In fact, much of Ripken's obviously sane advice runs contrary to every modern parent's instinct to cheer wildly, coach from the bleachers and hustle the kids into the backyard for drills.

For example:

• It's OK to root, Ripken says, but sideline silence is golden. Experiments with strict "quiet" rules revealed that the players were more apt to listen to their coach and communicate with each other on the field.

• Postgame performance critiques are hardly ever positive. Especially with the youngest children, who don't absorb your coaching tips when they're piling into the van. When there's something that needs to be addressed, offer it later, in a "praise sandwich" — constructive criticism wedged between two bits of meaningful kudos.

Arguing that parents shouldn't push their kids into practice, Ripken cites the example of the late Earl Woods, who, according to myth, mercilessly pushed his son. Truth is, the father asked Tiger every day if he wanted to hit golf balls. When the boy said no, his father simply put the clubs away while his son tottered off to play with his friends.

Dr. Joel Fish, director of the Center for Sport Psychology in Philadelphia and the author of "101 Ways to Be a Terrific Sports Parent," said Ripken is right on target.

When kids enjoy a sport, he said, "the more likely they are to keep playing and get the life skills that sports have to offer: how to set goals, how to be part of a team, learning to persevere, celebrate victory, and graciously handle defeat."

It's especially important for parents to keep expectations reasonable when kids are 5 and 6, and first signing up for sports.

"At these very tender ages, most children have only the vaguest notion of the sport they're going to play," Ripken says. "They just know that (a) they're going to be playing with their friends, (b) they'll be wearing a shiny new uniform, and (c) mom and dad will be watching on the sidelines."

Parents can have a big impact without even being aware of it. When your child makes a great play — or a mistake — the first place they look is into the stands.

"He sees you lower your head, wave your arms in disgust, or kick the dirt, and he instinctively recognizes that he has let you down," Ripken writes.

Fish, a father of three, says he tries to be aware of his feelings at tense moments, and how he might be communicating them without knowing it.

"If I'm pacing the sidelines, I could've said all the right things before the game, but the kid still sees me and thinks, 'Uh oh, Dad's nervous.' So instead, I give a thumbs-up, you're with him, you've got her back, win, lose or draw."