I have a friend who masterminds a local under 10’s football team. He selflessly devotes lashings of his free time to arrange, harangue and coach other people’s children, for no financial recompense.

As a father to two girls who prefer alternative artistic endeavours, I do not envy the weekend Ron Manager, slipping out early on a Sunday morning in all weathers, to run the line and face verbal abuse from parents who believe their children are Harry Kane, but play more like Michael Caine.

The one aspect of this scenario that really saddens me though is that of the lack of competitiveness. I asked how his team were faring in the league and he responded that he ‘didn’t know’ but could ‘take a guess’. The confusion has resulted as his child’s football results are not published in any format. The reason given is that is saves children from the ‘humiliation’ of losing badly. I for one do not concur with this initiative. As a child I played at under 10 level for ‘Firehills’ in Hastings. When we first got together we were a snotty nosed rag tag, unsure of the semantics of the beautiful game, not to mention the true meaning of the offside rule.

Over a series of training sessions we improved into a weak team with a poor attitude. A collection of individuals, all inept in their positions, and incapable of following the most simple of instruction. We got a few results and dreamed of being ‘scouted’ by Brighton and Hove Albion prior to making our debut at the Goldstone ground before our 16th birthdays, but then reality bit and we came up against ‘Spartans’.

Spartans were the Man City of the Hastings U10 league. They won every trophy (which equates to the double), every season. Their kit was clean and didn’t smell of damp like ours. Their boots were scrubbed, the manager wore an Umbro tracksuit and they looked the real deal.

Our first meeting ended in ritual slaughter. As captain I felt humiliated and ashamed after our 27-0 defeat. Each time we got the ball, we lost it and each time they did, they scored. One of their strikers scored a quadruple hat trick which I have never witnessed before or since.

We were openly mocked in the playground on the Monday. We were shunned by so-called friends and the Hastings Observer printed the result for all and sundry to see, along with the league table, showing us hovering just above the relegation zone with vastly inferior goal difference.

I don’t remember crying, but may well have done. But you know what? It made us stronger. We started taking it seriously, practised every night until it was dark and attended all training sessions. A year later we beat Spartans 2-1 and I scored the winner. We broke their local monopoly and took the league from them. Now, in the great scheme of sporting achievement it means just less than nowt, but to those of us involved, it meant the world. Humiliated, we showed fortitude and, although clichéd, came back stronger and faced down our fears.

To appease youngsters now by not printing league tables or results is a travesty. I asked how relegation is decided and was told ‘they judge who hasn’t performed too well’ and drop them down at the end of the season.

Teach the bairns to accept, but not embrace defeat, publish results and stop pandering to the snowflake generation. This mind-set is relevant to any competition. I play pool with my daughter and always win. My wife asked me why I don’t let her taste the glory and I explain it as thus: When she wins, and she will, it will mean something, as in really mean something. I did try and throw a game once but she got wind and scolded me for not trying my darndest. Isabel is right. I want her to earn her victories and enjoy the fragrant smell of success, not to hide away the dank stench of failure.

Final word should go to the king of the hoops, Michael Jordan, who put it simply and succinctly: "I've failed over and over and over again in my life and that is why I succeed".

Failure is a great leveller, a critical friend, a highlighter of faults that ultimately educates and makes you stronger. Competition should be encouraged for children (and that includes school sports days). Learn to love to lose or you will never appreciate the thrill of the win.