Much of the time, sports writing is a live-vicariously type of business.

When 17-year-olds rush onto the Bangor Auditorium floor to celebrate a state title, or when the Black Bears swarm the ice at the end of a national championship game, we journalists stand back, observe and do the best we can to capture the emotion of the moment.

But if we’re honest, somewhere, deep down, there’s something else going on, beneath our cynical ink-stained exterior.

When Joe Campbell is hoisted atop a mob of churning crimson and white after a shot I’m still not sure actually happened, we get goose bumps. We shake our heads. And we think.

I wish I had a chance to do that. Just once.

This week, across the state, thousands of former athletes may end up saying the same thing.

The Senior League World Series is in town. And while it may not have the immediate name-recognition that goes along with the 11- and 12-year-old tournament in Williamsport, Pa., make no mistake: This is the world championship.

Everybody wanted to get here.

And only 10 select teams did.

Many of us grew up with that dream. For some, it was Williamsport. For others, it was something a bit more routine: making an all-star team … slugging the game-winning homer, just as the cutest girl in your class just happened to walk by.

Those are the Little League dreams. And they’re the ones that, no matter how old you get, you still end up thinking back on. Fondly. Wistfully.

These kids? The lucky ones you’ll see at Mansfield Stadium all week? They’re a bit older than you were when you began storing your own Little League dreams. They’re 15, or 16.

In this tournament, every pitcher will likely have a nasty curveball. You may end up seeing some on TV some day.

But it’s still baseball. It’s still Little League [or at least Little League Baseball is the sanctioning body].

And if you decide to take in a game or two? You’ll begin to relive a few of your own Little League dreams.

Trust me.

You’ll remember the sound that foul balls made when they bounced off a car that some crazy grownup parked too close to the backstop. … and you’ll remember the fervent youthful cheers that greeted that oh-so-sweet thunk.

You’ll remember learning that every position has a number, and finding out that a simple “E-6,” when whispered toward a cocky opponent from your perch on second base can sometimes have magical results.

You’ll remember stepping into “the bucket,” even though every conscious thought you can muster is telling you not to bail out on the obvious deuce that’s spinning toward your helmeted bean.

You’ll remember the unique fear you discover when the 5-foot-10, whisker-growing 12-year-old standing 45 feet away from you rears back and fires.

You’ll remember stuffing 12 sticks of Bazooka Joe into your mouth … and kneading it … painfully … into shape.

And you’ll remember what it felt like to wonder … what if we make it all the way?

These kids? They know that answer, you know. They’re all living our Little League dream.

Play ball.

John Holyoke can be reached at jholyoke@bangordailynews.net or by calling 990-8214 or 1-800-310-8600.