There is a race problem in America that is increasingly being woven into the fabric of professional sports.

Football coaches who cut numerous star black players in favor of value system-players are called racist. A disgraced bigot’s blood chilling racism – you may know him as former Los Angeles Clippers owner Donald Sterling – swept through his team’s 2014 playoff run. Before their fourth playoff game, Clippers players removed their team jackets, placed them at center court, and in solidarity wore their red warm-ups inside out so the team insignia wasn’t visible. Due to civil unrest in Baltimore this spring, an Orioles game was played in an empty stadium.

And, in the midst of the devastatingly real racial violence tearing through the country, athletes get blindsided by seemingly reputable analysts, on Twitter nonetheless, for wearing I CAN'T BREATHE shirts.

Especially for children growing up now, this racial tension is deeper than their young minds can be asked to fully grasp. All young minds are shaped by the worlds they know and the way their lives are lived and governed. Just like mine, and just like yours.

Before the multi-million dollar contracts, signing bonuses, scholarships and first purchase of a razor, the Little League World Series brings together teams of pre-teens from nine different countries to the small town of Williamsport, Pennsylvania.

In international play, Taiwan eliminated an incredibly passionate Ugandan team. The result wasn’t notable; Taiwan has won a record 17 Little League World Series titles and Uganda established their first Little League about a year before their current players were born. They created their own baseball culture, and with some aid from Little League International and the MLB, brought a new game to Ugandan youth.

The way they played the game, however, was inspiring. When put on a baseball diamond, all off-the-field differences vanished. A fourth inning fastball leaked up and in on Uganda’s Joshua Olara, catching him in the arm.

Taiwan’s first baseman tipped his cap in apology to Olara when he arrived at first, which Olara returned gratefully, placing his hand over his heart. Meanwhile Taiwan’s pitcher Wei Hung Chou made his way over to first.

Forget the language barrier. Forget everything people from these cultures may or may not know about each other. No common words are needed for a sincere apologetic hat tip and bow. With the next batter, Olara tried to beat a force out at second base with a late but legal slide, taking out Taiwan’s bite-sized second baseman.

For comparison, a quick-pitch from a Mets reliever emptied the benches in Philadelphia this week. The harmless pitch flared tempers, but when you tussle with baseball’s unwritten rules someone always gets offended. Instead here, after a hard slide into the bag where injury is far more likely than a quick-pitch, we find true unfettered sportsmanship.

Call it maturation beyond their years, call it a positive blindness to racial differences, call it beautiful innocence. I call it a common thread; baseball the language of the world.

In the viral age, ideas travel the globe in the click of a button, which has no doubt proved problematic for some. This is precisely what needs to be spread, especially to children exposed to the harmful racial tensions. For some it may not be new, but for some it could prove eye-opening.