The once innocent mom-and-pop world of Little Leagues and soccer clubs had evolved into a prosperous industry, and as with any business, corruption was not uncommon.

Pretty quickly, I had the framework of a powerful and surprising story: a voluminous catalog of cases nationwide and millions of dollars pilfered from the $9 billion that youth sports clubs take in annually in the United States alone.

I could have written that story right then. But there was a twist to these embezzlement cases that made them hauntingly compelling. It was the people who were stealing the money from the children. They were usually the most trusted, respected folks in their town or city, often described as pillars of the community.

My editors suggested that I back up and travel to these places, where a respected adult was now a scorned thief, and document the effects on everyone in the community. And that is the larger story we discovered. Because robbing your local Little League is somehow viewed differently than defrauding your company or even sticking up a 7-Eleven.

Each of the communities I visited was left thunderstruck by the crime, and not just because a league had to disband or muddle along on a skeleton budget as they begged umpires to work for free. There was a deep sense of betrayal that cast a lingering chariness. There was often furious outrage, acrimonious finger-pointing and protracted heartbreak.