Unless you had a child, grandchild, niece or nephew involved, this past weekend’s Little League Opening Day ceremonies in many local towns passed with neither pomp nor circumstance. Besides, it’s Little League. Most reflections on its bona fides don’t usually get past “gee, aren’t they cute.”

But my ongoing education suggests Little League’s significance has never been greater. And it’s for this reason: Somebody’s got to start teaching these kids how to play baseball. The right way. Because much of what I’m seeing now — the varying obsessions with velocity, launch angle and excessive displays of emotion — is turning our erstwhile pastime into a sideshow.

On all levels.

This is not an easy argument because old school principles are often mocked in the daily inertia of The Hot Take, where younger, hipper (and ultimately dumber) has become tres chic, nonetheless. But I’m not apologizing for adhering to what I was taught.

We start here: Yes, there are scoreboards at LIttle League games for a reason. The goal is to win the game. But not at the expense of teaching. Not at the expense of playing everybody and teaching everybody, lest we forget that the kid at the end of the bench whose skills have yet to develop is not doomed for eternity. So we temper the harsh “nobody really cares if you win or lose” with “teaching trumps all.”

Kids need to be taught the strike zone. How to pick up a ground ball. Catch a pop up. How to throw the ball. Back up bases. Run bases. Throw your fastball for a strike consistently before worrying about anything else. How to reach second base with a double and not celebrate like a Publisher's Clearing House winner. Little things. In Little League.

I get that coaching is not easy. It is to be admired, actually, giving up one’s time with only the musings of sniveling parents in return. But nobody is making you do this. We all have choices. And if you choose to coach, you are required to teach the right things. Certainly not what you see on television. Remember: If baseball truly mirrors life in that it is about daily adjustments, then your job teaching them will echo in their heads for a lifetime.

I’ve never been more frustrated with the game. High school kids can’t hit. “Catch 22” is what happens with 30 ground balls hit to most infielders. And the majors? Make it stop. Somebody. Please.

The Red Sox, per the Boston Globe, employ more than 30 people in their analytics department. I’m sorry. Are analytics honestly THAT important? I mean, differential equations certainly have their applications — science people say they help calculate the flow of electricity — but do we need 30 people advising us on how they relate to backing up third base?

Any hint of healthy critical thinking should raise suspicions about the analytical revolution. Sure, analytics often contradict old-school notions that inspire healthy debate. But they also purposely create narratives espousing contrarian opposition to traditional ideas — ideas that became traditional for good reason.

This is why I’ve always viewed them skeptically. They’re a tool in determining a player’s worth, not the gospel. We don’t need to add FIP, BABIP and WAR to Matthew, Mark, Luke and John.

And the Yankees? Oy. Just get a runner on third base with fewer than two outs and watch the follies. It is also particularly amusing to watch this franchise that once had Goose Gossage and Mariano Rivera have no set closer now. Nah. Clay Holmes has his “lane.” Meanwhile, the ninth inning has this funny way of showing up. But on the band plays.

Did you know that per Baseball Reference, the Major League Baseball average for scoring a runner from third base with fewer than two outs is about 50 percent? Think about the layers of pathetic that stat delivers. That’s because nothing ever changes. Swings don’t change. Adjustments aren’t made. Hit the ball over the moon. When that fails, swing harder. The result? Situational baseball is swirling the bowl. And none of the game’s caretakers seem to care.

I worry that kids just aren’t going to be taught correctly anymore. Heck, I worry people don’t even know what to teach. So I say we start the counter revolution. Now. Somewhere, we all know people who taught us baseball the right way. We have many of them here in our corner of the world. Please stand up and be counted. The game needs you. It needs us. It can’t continue like this.

This is the opinion of Day sports columnist Mike DiMauro