Dear Annie: My 11-year-old son, “Max,” used to eat, sleep and breathe baseball. He wore his glove to the grocery store, slept in his favorite team T-shirt and spent hours in the backyard throwing a ball against the fence, narrating imaginary World Series games.

This year he finally made the local travel baseball team, which was supposed to be a dream come true. Instead, it has turned into a slow-motion heartbreak.

The coach, “Brian,” is one of those old-school, win-at-all-costs types. He yells when kids strike out, rolls his eyes when someone misses a grounder and has actually said things like, “Maybe baseball just isn’t your sport,” loudly enough for everyone to hear. He rarely plays my son, and when Max does get in the game, the coach seems to be waiting for him to fail.

My once conf

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