Mothers stand up for their kids.

Even if it means getting thrown out of a Little League game for inciting a near-riot.

Hey, moms do what they gotta do.

Mother’s Day weekend makes me think of my favorite mom memory when it comes to sports. My mind drifts all the way back to Lions Park in Bethel Park, nearly 41 (gasp!) years ago.

My Little League team was Ben Franklin 5&10 — no, they’re not around anymore — and we were well above .500 and headed to the playoffs.

Unfortunately, my on-field performance did not contribute mightily to our success. I was the only 12-year-old on the team not to get picked for the all-star game and my strikeout to walk ratio was 22 to 1.

At least I went down swinging most of the time.

Regardless of my relatively inept play, my mother was in the bleachers for most of my games — no small chore since my older brother was playing Pony League that same summer.

On this day, the other team’s pitcher — a kid named Dino — was one of my childhood rivals. We didn’t get along too well and he told me during warm-ups that he was gonna hit me with a pitch every time I came up to the plate.

No need telling my coach this bit of news because he would have loved the idea.

So, just play the game.

First time up, Dino nailed me with a fastball in the back and I wanted to nail him. Before I could take two steps toward the mound, though, I heard my mother’s voice.

“John! Just go to first base!”Like a dutiful son, I flipped the bat away and trotted to first.Next time up, Dino drills me in the shoulder. I slammed the bat down and pointed toward him.Again, mom’s voice.

“John! There will be none of that! You go down to first base!”With Dino grinning from ear to ear, I shook my head and jogged down the first-base line.Third time up, Dino fires a pitch off my batting helmet. I scowled at him, tossed the bat away and quietly headed toward first base.My mom spoke up again.

“John! That’s three three times ... You get him!”Music to my ears.I charged the mound, Dino and I rolled around in the dirt like fighting 12-year-olds do and a Little League brawl unfolded.My mom was asked not to come to any more of my games.Small price to pay for sticking up for one of her kids.But that’s what moms do. They’ve got your back. They’re in your corner.My mom’s that way — unless one of her kids is on the team she’s bowling against come league night.Or if one of her kids — or grandkids — drew a better hand than her during a family card game.In those instances, all bets are off.My mom likes to compete, too. And she loves to win.

“You get him!” I love that.Happy Mother’s Day.John Enrietto is sports editor of the Butler Eagle