One week ago, after the exciting conclusion to the Little League World Series, more media focus was on the 11- and 12-year-old competitors than on their ready-to-strike big-league counterparts.

Most of the attention was centered on the team from Harlem, replete with big bats and bigger comebacks. Remembering how much of a stir the discovery of Danny Almonte’s age falsification caused one year ago, sports media saw a week’s worth of news in the showboating antics of the Harlem squad, and they ran with it.

Not a week after Harlem’s Fernando Frias, forgetting that his favorite ballplayer was Sammy Sosa, not Babe Ruth, pointed to left field to call his shot and proceeded to smash a two-run-scoring double to win the game, more hotshot antics followed.

After hitting a go-ahead home run, another Harlem youngster waved goodbye to the ball as he neared first base, then took some overly large steps on his way home before being mobbed by his elated teammates.

Columns in papers around the country, especially in the New York area, bemoaned the lack of restraint shown by the youngsters and indicted big-league ballplayers as the source of reference for the kids’ showboating antics.

My question is, who cares? The media outlets that turned the Little Leaguers into fodder for many a story certainly did. But why stop with Little Leaguers? Don’t they realize that they could get a week’s worth of columns out of Sammy Sosa’s homerun hop or Dikembe Mutombo’s finger-wagging? And NFL post-touchdown celebrations? I smell a book deal in the works.

Certain talking heads, notably ESPN’s Mitch Albom, called for an end to the broadcasting of the many rounds of the LLWS, claiming the national exposure has caused this plague of pomposity.

The reality of it is this: Kids see their heroes on TV, and they do all that they can to emulate them. But it’s not just when they’re televised, and it’s not just the showboating.

Watching Frias at the plate, crouched low and waving his bat around, one could easily mistake the youngster for a 12-year-old Sammy Sosa. It’s obvious that Frias has observed his hero’s habits and tics, his stance and his swing. To Frias, the way to become a great ballplayer is to mimic one of the greats. Frias even has the Sosa hop in his repertoire.

Don’t think Frias conjured up his Sosa mimicry when he found his team had made it deep enough into the tourney to be televised. There’s no doubt he had worked on his routine for countless hours — at practice, while taking BP and certainly during the dozens of games he played this year before anyone even mentioned the Little League World Series. He didn’t care about the cameras when they weren’t there, and you can’t fault him for being excited when they were.

So why not televise the games? Why take away a kid’s dream just because he was happy when he accomplished it? I couldn’t imagine anything a 12-year-old ballplayer would want more than to see himself on TV, crowding the plate with his ridiculously high batting average and other stats popping up at the bottom of the screen. It’s the kids’ chance to be like their heroes, to feel like a big leaguer.

It may be that same emulation of their idols that gives the kids their celebration ideas. But if that’s the case, it’s the pros, not the kids, who should be taken off the air. That way, the youngsters would have absolutely no idea how to showboat, right?

Don’t think these youngsters never showed a little elation on the base paths after belting a game-winner in their regular-season games. Regardless of what they see Barry Bonds do, kids get excited at their accomplishments — and how can one expect them not to?

Stoicism is not an innate trait; it’s a learned behavior. And although my respect for Thurman Thomas grew every time he simply dropped the ball behind his back after gliding into the end zone, I’d almost be disappointed if 11- and 12-year-olds showed the same restraint.

After all, the vast majority of these kids will never wear Yankee pinstripes, never set foot on a big-league ballfield. I can think of more former LLWS competitors in the NHL (Chris Drury) than in the big leagues. This is the one chance these kids have to shine, probably the one time they’ll be in a championship game on national TV. Let ’em smile and dance and call their shots, because they’ll never have a chance to do it again.

And let them do it on ESPN.