Youth Sports

If you’re a sports mom (or dad), you know what it feels like when the sideline shouting gets louder than the game.

I have two daughters, but only one has officially entered the youth sports world. And somewhere between the first tee-ball practice and the travel league tryouts, things went from fun to frantic. As a former college athlete, I couldn’t wait for my girls to start playing. Honestly, it was one of the things I looked forward to most as a parent. I dreamed about teaching them the rules, watching their skills develop, and seeing them fall in love with the game—just like I did.

But that dream has been tested. What used to be a space for kids to run around, make friends, and maybe learn how to throw a ball without hitting themselves has morphed into a high-pressure environment. I wasn’t exactly shocked; I’ve been in the stands watching my nephew for years and I’ve heard some things. Still, I was hopeful that it would feel different with my own child. I even signed up to coach, thinking maybe that would allow me to set the tone and protect some of the fun.

I was wrong.

The reality is, even the most well-meaning parents (myself included) can get caught up. It’s hard not to. We cheer, we commit our weekends, we buy the matching gear—and sometimes, we get a little too invested. We start living through their wins and losses. We shout instructions from the sideline. We treat a missed catch like the end of the world. And it begs the question we should all be asking more often: Who is this really for?

I’ll be the first to admit it: I pushed my daughter toward sports because I love them. Aside from the desire to watch her play, I wanted her to find the same joy and structure that shaped me. But lately, I’ve started to wonder—what if we’re unintentionally squeezing the joy out of something that’s supposed to be fun? I ask myself this question because I see it happen. It’s right in front of me every day. I see kids on my team nervously glancing at their parents after every swing or miss. I watch them shrink a little after every correction shouted from the bleachers. I can tell when the pressure is heavier than the love for the game. And as a parent, that’s hard to watch. It truly makes me so sad.

I’m not sure there’s one clear answer for why we put so much pressure on our kids in sports. Maybe it’s the dream of college scholarships. Maybe it’s a desire to see our kids succeed. Maybe it’s just the competitive world we live in. But whatever the reason, we have to realize that when every Saturday game feels like the World Series, we’re robbing them of what really matters: joy, confidence, and a lifelong love of movement and teamwork.

When I think about what I really want my daughters to take away from playing team sports, it’s not trophies or highlight reels. I want them to learn how to be part of a team, to pass the ball and cheer on their teammates. I want them to build friendships that stretch beyond the dugout—a community of support that teaches them they’re never in it alone. I want them to experience what it feels like to work hard and see it pay off—not just in wins, but in growth, grit, and resilience. Lastly, I need them to experience losing. I want my kids team to lose. Yes- you heard me. They need to experience that feeling and learn how to bounce back from it. These are the life lessons that sports can teach when the pressure is stripped away and the fun is put back in the game. These are the life lessons that I learned from a lifetime of sports.

Of course, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want them to be good. I mean—come on, I’m only human. Watching your kid crush it out there feels amazing. But I try to remind myself that being good should be their goal, not mine.

And while I’m thinking about goals, I can’t help but reflect on my own journey—from youth sports to college—and the coaches who helped shape me. A good coach can change everything. They’re not just calling plays—they’re building people. The best coaches I had were the ones who pushed me, but never broke me. Who taught me how to lead, how to lose, and how to show up even when it was hard. They believed in me, and because of that, I learned to believe in myself. That’s the kind of influence I want around my daughters. Because long after they hang up their cleats or put the glove away, the lessons will stick.

We can apply this to any activity. As parents we can get too intense about hobbies, grades, behavior, etc. We can push our kids too hard in so many different aspects of their little lives. At the end of the day, sports are just one of the many ways we parent. Through the practices, the car rides, the wins, and the tears, we’re shaping how our kids see themselves—and how they move through the world.