Last weekend, I dedicated around 12 hours to watching my daughter participate in four soccer matches. Yes, you read that right—12 hours, complete with numerous 45-minute drives to the field, an early wake-up call, and plenty of anxious moments. I also spent a good part of that time gulping down coffee and questioning my life choices. After all, waking up before sunrise to watch kids chase a ball can make anyone ponder their decisions.
Sometimes, I can’t help but wonder if we, as sports parents, are just a tad unhinged. While some families choose to avoid organized sports altogether, for us, it’s a perfect fit. We’re avid soccer enthusiasts, both in playing and watching, so it’s become a cherished family tradition.
That said, my partner and I maintain a relaxed perspective on sports. We don’t allow games or practices to dominate our lives. Our focus is on the valuable lessons organized sports impart—teamwork, confidence, dedication, and resilience. Up until now, these experiences have been largely positive for our family.
However, here’s a little secret for you, fellow sports parents: you really need to chill out.
I don’t know about you, but I don’t devote my weekends to watching my daughter with the expectation that she’ll snag a full college scholarship or play professionally. Most of us aren’t racing from school to soccer practice while tossing snacks to our kids in the backseat because they’re on winning teams. We don’t sacrifice our time (and sleep!) for swim meets, hockey games, or any other events only because we dream our kids will be the next sports legends. No, we do this simply because it brings our children happiness, and that joy radiates back to us.
But seriously? You, my fellow sports parent, are draining every bit of joy out of the experience. For the love of shin guards and jerseys, please calm down before you ruin it for everyone—including your kids.
You seem pleasant enough. We exchange pleasantries and cheer for each other’s children. At first, you’re supportive, applauding both sides for good plays. But then, out of nowhere, you’re on the bleachers yelling at the referee for a call that you’re convinced he got wrong. This goes on throughout the game. You’re furious, cursing the referee, claiming you could do a better job, and insisting the game is rigged.
Please, just sit down. You’re making us all uncomfortable.
Most of my experiences have been positive. My daughter’s coaches are kind and dedicated, and many parents share my laid-back approach, which makes your intensity all the more noticeable. You start off as a rational parent who wants their child to learn about teamwork and effort, but then you’re throwing your hat on the ground after a missed play, shouting expletives from the stands, or making light of a kid who couldn’t catch a ball. Your behavior reveals a different side.
You’ve shifted from being a fan to a fanatic, and it’s unsettling for everyone involved.
You kindly tell me that your child’s teammates are just so bad that it’s hard to enjoy the games because they’re dragging your child down. You joke about the kid who’s distracted by flowers in the outfield. You express concern that your child can’t “play his best” because of these daisy-pickers.
And I’m left thinking, what the heck? These are just kids, aged 9 and 10!
Sometimes I question if I’m missing something. You say all this ridiculous stuff in a sweet tone, and your child is a good athlete, so maybe I’m the one who doesn’t understand? Should I be pushing my child harder? Should I encourage them to be more competitive? But the answer is NO. Absolutely not.
I know competitive sports well. I swam for 13 years, including a couple at a prominent university. I understand hard work and competition. But this? This is pure madness.
Let me break it to you gently: the chances of your son making it to the NBA or MLB are virtually nonexistent. Your daughter likely won’t be standing on a podium at the Olympics in 2032 either. If you’re spending your time and money on sports in hopes of a financial return, you’re setting yourself up for disappointment. That’s not why kids participate in organized sports, and it shouldn’t be our motivation either.
Would it be nice if my daughter excelled in sports? Perhaps. But that’s not my aspiration for her. My hope is that she grows into a kind, compassionate person. I want her to support others, to recognize the importance of hard work, and to understand that winning doesn’t define her self-worth. Above all, I want her to find joy in whatever she does—whether it’s scoring a goal or picking a beautiful bouquet of flowers.
And most importantly, I want her to learn the fundamental rule of sports and life: DON’T BE A JERK.
So please, sports parents, calm down. These are just kids, and it’s merely a game. Keep your hat on and your emotions in check—for your child’s sake and for everyone else’s.
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In summary, let’s remember that the essence of youth sports is about enjoyment, growth, and learning, not about living vicariously through our children’s achievements.