I went to nearly countless baseball games in the past months with 2 sons playing on 3 teams.
Prince CuddleBunny played his first year of Little League in the spring. He was his Majors' team starting 3rd Baseman, and his hitting improved so much that he went from awkward strikeouts, to hitting doubles and an occasional triple. He was awarded Best Third Baseman, and even better, Most Improved Player on the team.
What was best in all of it was his attitude and absolute joy at the opportunity to play. After every practice, he'd rush into the house with genuine fervor, "Practice was awesome today, Mom!!"
I don't want to embarrass him, but it only showed his passion for playing when the Pacific Northwest spring weather would take its usual turn, resulting in the cancelation of practice or a game, when the tears flowed with the raindrops.
Even though their team lost their first game (and many others similarly), 23-0, he came smiling out of the dugout, and said, "That was AWESOME." What if we all did that in the face of what seemed like big failure? To him it wasn't. The score was beside the point. It was a couple hours on the field, playing the game he loves with all his heart.