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That’s the axiom so often recited when it comes to success in sports, fine arts and so many other aspects of childhood.

Sports in particular have taken the notions of year-round and individualized training from a young age to another level in the past 25 years; since Marv Marinovich was attempting to finely craft his son Todd into the Robo-Quarterback. But even among all the inflated expectations and distorted perceptions, even the most crazed sports parent looks tame when contrasted with the average pageant mom.

When my fiancée rousts the remote away long enough to dial up something other than ESPN, we often land in the world of reality TV. The TCL (wasn’t there a time when that stood for, The Learning Channel?) train wreck Toddlers and Tiaras became an instant classic the first time I watched a three year old pop, lock and drop it in a plaid mini-skirt and heels while her mom prompted from the crowd.

My initial reaction was of course a mix of horror and disbelief. But as I watched more, the fake tanning sessions full of tears and “contestants” that are carried across the stage in swimwear because they are still toddlers proved time and again why pageants are so wonderfully horrendous.

Then I began to notice something else. Many of the themes are actually mirrored in sports.

Families travel between neighboring states and sometimes farther, looking for the best competition and most high-profile events.

In sports, coaches slam dugout gates and throw water bottles in the same breath that they talk about how winning is not the most important thing. Pageant parents have a similar act, saying to the camera they would never force their child to participate against their own will, right after they are caught in a candid moment, telling their crying youngster that they can only have a present if they act right just for the competition.

Overzealous dads place undue pressure on their sons that results in damaged elbows, hurt feelings and a destroyed sense of confidence. Pageant moms do something similar, forcing unwilling children to parade around scantily clad or in full evening wear to live out their own fantasies of attaining outside approval.

But thankfully sports fans, there is one major difference. Money.

While youth sports leagues and pageants both require registration fees to cover overhead costs, the latter goes a step beyond. Unlike Little League, Pop Warner football or even the most sordid of sports organizations, AAU basketball, pageants have prize money.

Imagine how that would play out on your local Little League diamond or basketball gym.

Your team of second-graders makes the playoffs in basketball? Everyone gets $100. Win a baseball tournament? $250. Sounds like a plan to me.

Usually the prize money in pageants is negligible, the dividends of whatever is left after the planning committee for the pageant proves how legitimate the contest is by decorating the local Holiday Inn Express conference room with color-coordinated streamers, balloons and plastic crowns.

But on the latest episode, the contest featured participants up to age 20 and a grand prize of $10,000.

So next time you hear someone fretting over the amount of exposure we are giving the 11 and 12 year olds at the Little League World Series (kids that had to first make their local team and then survive roughly two months of tournaments with the best teams from their state and region), just remind them: it could be worse.

For the love of the game is a Bellevue Reporter column written by sports reporter Josh Suman. Call Josh at 425-453-5045.