“The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” Those words from President Franklin Delano Roosevelt served as an encouraging rallying cry for Americans navigating the Great Depression. But to an 8-year-old who got pegged in the helmet by a “fastball” in his first at-bat of the new recreational baseball season, they mean nothing.

Sports bring out the best and worst in us, whether we’re fans watching our favorite team (go Knicks!) or participants on our church softball team. That’s a lot for parents to handle because much of our life seems to revolve around watching our children play sports, organized or otherwise, as soon as they can walk. For example, all three of my kids play on rec teams. This means two games a week for each child. Then add on one of two practices — again, for EACH CHILD. Then add that to all three kids’ other extracurricular activities. It is, to put it mildly, a busy life. For me.

This brings me back to FDR’s quote about fear. 

When I checked on my son, Jackson, after he got hit with that pitch, I could see his desire to play baseball had left him at that very moment. It was a brand-new experience for him. Two years ago he hit off a tee in games. Last year was coach pitch, so fathers lobbed slow pitches he could crush to the outfield. He had always been one of the best players on his teams up until that fateful at-bat. I loved watching him play and believed he could be a special player for many years. 

But after taking that less-than-fast one on the helmet, even though was OK physically, he was not OK emotionally. His not wanting to play for the rest of the game hit me in a way I was not expecting.

It got worse after the game. That’s when Jackson told me he didn’t want to play baseball anymore.

I was mad.

‘Fun’ comes first in ‘fundamentals’

Something felt like it was taken away from ME. I had spent time getting him ready, taking him to practice, doing pitching drills, and many other things to prepare him for another great season. The moment became about me, my time and my feelings rather than about my son and his state of mind.

Baseball soon became a struggle between the two of us. Two games later into the season, Jackson was still apprehensive about playing. I would spend an hour getting him dressed for games and practices. We’d argue the entire time about why he had — NEEDED — to go and couldn’t just not show. I was getting frustrated and so was he. I could see he was getting further and further from wanting to pick up a bat again.

Then, one day before practice, I was talking with another dad who coaches the team.  He didn’t blame Jackson for not wanting to play. He even admitted he would be scared to get back into the batter’s box after an experience like that too. While Jackson warmed up with his teammates in the outfield, the dad reminded me of a simple fact.

“They’re only 8,” he said. “This should be about learning the fundamentals of baseball but also having fun. If they aren’t having fun, then why are they doing it?”

That’s when I realized my duty as a father was not only to provide for my family. It was also my duty to listen to them. I wasn’t listening to Jackson about his genuine fear of getting hit by the ball, a fear anyone might have. It is no different than being afraid to get behind the wheel of a car after a traffic accident. Trauma affects everyone differently, and as parents, we must learn to recognize it in our children and address it.

With youth sports, we parents sometimes get caught up in the fantasy. We hear about all the benefits beyond physical health — friendship, teamwork, discipline, etc. — and expect results on Day One. Often it becomes about our kids living the athletic dreams we wanted to come true for ourselves. Maybe we even indulge in thoughts about the riches (or at least the college scholarships) it provides only a select few. We make it about ourselves and think our kids should tough it out. 

Youth sports parents: Listen, learn, enjoy

But these are just children. Some just want to hang with their friends, sing a few fun and clever rallying cries, and then get a hot dog and slushy from the snack stand after the game. Youth sports parents must remember to frequently ask their kids one very simple question, “Are you having fun?”

If you know they are having fun, it makes the long road trips, the late-night games, and the rain-soaked practices worth it. If your kid is not having fun, then you as a parent are definitely not having fun. So what’s the point?

As parents, we want our children to be active, but we must have the wisdom to step in when necessary be it youth sports or violin lessons. We should not let them become overscheduled. We need to be sure they are having fun while building healthy relationships and habits they will carry off the field.

As of this writing, Jackson is halfway through the season. He still isn’t swinging the bat much, but he is playing and his confidence appears to be returning. I make sure before every game to tell him the coaches and the other sports parents are there to ensure he has fun while prioritizing that he doesn’t get hurt. I remind him that getting hit is a part of the game of baseball, but it doesn’t happen very often. And I tell him after every game that I am proud of him getting back out there and facing his fear. 

When I see him out there making plays, catching a fly ball or two, I remind him of all he would have missed if had let his fear keep him from playing baseball. However, I let the coaches do their jobs and coach. Sometimes hearing things, especially instructions, from an authority figure who is not your parent, gets through to a child better.

So if this turns out to be his last season of baseball at the ripe old age of 8 going on 9, I am OK with that. If he’s not having fun playing a game, then why should he? He will have plenty of time to do “not fun” things when he is an adult. 

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This blog post is part of the #NoDadAlone campaign. Fathering Together/City Dads Group, the National At-Home Dad Network, and Fathers Eve are joining forces to amplify messages that help dads recognize we are not alone! Follow #NoDadAlone on Instagram, and learn more at NoDadAlone.com.

Photo by Ben Hershey on Unsplash.

I was second-guessing my decision before the first practice ended. 

As soon as I got home, I told my wife I wasn’t sure if this was going to work.

Growing up, I never played soccer. To this day, I’ve never even been to a game. Sure, I’ll tune in to the World Cup every four years, pull for the U.S. National Team, and enjoy the festivities. But aside from that, soccer is near the bottom of my sports interests.

So, of course, it made perfect sense that I not only sign my 3-year-old son up for soccer this spring, but also volunteer to be an assistant coach on his team.

I had it all figured out. Soccer is the perfect sport to introduce toddlers to athletics. You give them a ball and they run around with their new friends. In my head, this youth soccer experience would be the start of my son’s Hall of Fame professional sports career, and I would be right there on the sidelines coaching him.

Dad excited to coach, his son …

As men, as soon as we find out we’re having a son, we immediately start dreaming up scenarios in which we can have father-son bonding moments through activities we enjoyed growing up, often with our own dads. I vividly remember my dad as a coach for my pee wee football team. When he wasn’t coaching, he and other dads were right there in the bleachers and along the sidelines at nearly every game all the way through high school. It set a precedent I knew I wanted to follow with my own son.

When it was time to start with my child, I was more excited than my son. He had zero concept of what soccer actually was. He just knew we got to go to a park and run around with other kids his age. That was the exciting part for him.

As I attempted to “coach” him, I would soon learn the line between coach and dad would be a hard one for him to understand at his young age. I was Daddy. Who were these other kids I was showing what to do? Why was I talking differently than how I did at home? Why are you even out here? It was interesting to observe.

To his credit, my son locked in when the head coach spoke. It was similar to how he is at swimming class and daycare. He listens to his teachers. But when I’m around, naturally his entire demeanor changes.

I’ve described the soccer experience to date as “up and down.” One practice, he’ll be into it, participating in the drills and such. The next, he’ll be more interested in picking up pieces of grass and playing in the dirt. The irony is that after every practice he says he had fun and immediately asks if we can do it again.

It was clear the problem was not him, it was me.

Adjust and accept

Could I be a coach and be a dad to a toddler who is being introduced to a whole new world? Could I put my unrealistic expectations on hold and let him just enjoy himself?

Initially, I couldn’t. And that was evident at a practice in which my son went into full meltdown mode. Falling out, screaming, and just refusing to cooperate. We’ve all been there. I was stuck between frustration and embarrassment.

I quickly realized I wasn’t angry at him. My anger came from the vision in my head not coming to fruition.

Oftentimes, our vision for what we want our experience as dads to be is smacked in the face by the realities of life. It sometimes just doesn’t work out how we want. This is not to say we shouldn’t have plans and dreams. We just need to be mentally prepared to accept when those plans don’t work out.

It was a hard pill to swallow, but that realization made me step back and look in the mirror. I had to change my approach to what I wanted this experience to be.

Maybe that’s the lesson I need to learn during this soccer experience. When I look at my son, he’s having a blast doing his version of soccer, no matter how frustrating it is for me at times. At the end of the day, this season will be about creating lifelong memories.

That will mean more than any goal he’ll ever score.

Coach dad photo: ©kudosstudio / Adobe Stock.

The ball sailed into the upper corner of the goal and the crowd went crazy. My son’s high school soccer team had won the championship. The crowd rushed the field. I stood in the middle of it, but instead of barging into the hugs he was giving and receiving, I stopped to watch him. Within those seconds, 17 years of soccer memories flowed through me.

Soccer has been a big part of our lives. When I say “our,” I mean the entire family. But it all started with me and my son. I looked at my son’s soccer life as being as much his as mine. From the time he could crawl, I started playing soccer with him. And when he learned to walk, I started coaching him. For many years, we were the first two people on the field and the last two to leave. We were a team within a team.

While coaching him, we faced many obstacles together. We won championships and suffered humbling defeats. There were tears of joy and sadness. Bruises and chipped teeth were frequent, along with an occasional broken bone. And side by side, we took it all on.

Change in leadership, not relationship

But the time came for someone else to coach him. I had passed on everything I could, and it was time for another to teach and guide him. Thus started his life with a club team, where he and the team excelled.

Even while my son was with a different coach, I still felt as though we were a team. I drove him to games and practices, offering little tidbits of advice when I could. Since soccer was our thing for so long, it felt as though it was still our thing.

Then, the ball went into the corner of the goal his senior year of high school and our soccer life ended.

With people celebrating all around, I met my son and hugged him hard. I told him I was proud of him and I loved him. We talked briefly, and I let him rejoin his teammates in enjoying the moment. I was overjoyed, but the realization that our soccer journey was probably over brought about sadness. I wasn’t just letting go of soccer, but I was letting go of my teammate. No longer would we have soccer to bond us.

Finding new obstacles to overcome, together

While sitting around the table some day later, my son mentioned doing a Tough Mudder might be fun. I immediately thought, “That’s it!”

It would be a way for us to take something on and together overcome an obstacle, both literally and figuratively. We could be teammates again, and it could be a way for me to say goodbye to his youth with one last bonding moment before he started the next chapter of his life.

I searched through Tough Mudder’s website. The only event that fit into his schedule was one in Central Florida. I purchased tickets and immediately began searching for workouts I should do to prepare for the event. My son, who has been working out like a madman for months to prepare for a potential life in the Army, was already in tip-top shape. I had been running for over a year but had done little strength training. So, I began working out three days a week and running. I was determined not to let my son down.

We flew from NYC to Florida and settled into our hotel. We went out to eat, watched TV, and swam in the pool. All the while, we talked about his future, our past, and life in general. The next morning, we jumped into our rental and drove to the race. I thought I would be nervous, but I wasn’t. I was pretty chill. So was my son.

Lifting each other

We got our armbands and proceeded to the start. There were some other parents with their teens, but it was mostly friends and teams of adults. After the emcee tried pumping up everyone before the start, he asked everyone to take a knee and remember those that have given their lives for our freedom.

As my old knees descended to the grown, tears welled up in my eyes.

I tried not to let anyone see. Being there with my son, while saying goodbye to his youth and with the Army on his horizon, it was too much for me. It hit hard.

We stood and started the race.

My son and I started at a medium trot so not to get bottlenecked with everyone else. The emotions I had felt passed as the two of us took on the first obstacles. We met each one and overcame them all. Nothing was too hard because we were there for each other and working together. There were times I lifted him and times he lifted me.

We spent the following day lounging around the hotel and the pool. I had booked an extra day in Florida because I thought I would need an additional rest after the Mudder. Turns out, I did. I also needed the day to spend with him. Of course, he didn’t realize it. Much like all those countless hours of coaching him and watching him play, the most important thing was that we were together.

As our time under one roof ends, I’ve started recalling all the obstacles that we faced throughout his life. There were many. Some were more painful than the barbed wire and tasers at the Tough Mudder. But we overcame all of them. I’m proud of the man he is and thankful for the journey that got us here.

Now to witness his life through phone calls and stalking his social media accounts.

A version of this first appeared on One Good Dad. Photo: ©Ingus Evertovskis / Adobe Stock. Other photos courtesy of Jason Greene.

My father coached me from T-ball up through high school, except for one year. It caused much frustration for him because, like most kids, I wouldn’t listen to him because he was my “dad.” I couldn’t look at him as a coach because … he was my dad.

But it was also one of my greatest joys being able to give him a high five on first base when I had my first hit in high school.

I never knew at the time all that he put into coaching my teams throughout the years. I just took it for granted that every summer he’d coach my team. Win or lose he would be standing there at the end of the game giving encouragement and advice on what we could do better the next time.

It seemed natural that I would coach my own children in baseball as they grew up. As the head of my son’s coach-pitch team, I learned quickly that it wasn’t for me — at least the head coaching part of it. I never thought back to look at everything that my dad had to do leading those many teams.

So before you sign up for coaching your own child in any sport, consider these things:

Coaching your child, others: serious time commitment

Being a coach involves many aspects of making sure that your team is ready for the season. You’ll have to work with your local parks and rec department or league to make sure that you have a place to practice. You are responsible for making sure you have the gear that your team needs and keeping it in working order.

Organizing practices are as important as game planning. Luckily, internet videos and books are easy to find to teach you drills and how to set up practice plans.

Forming a lineup is hard when you must make sure everyone gets a chance to play, sometimes in every position. I recommend taking an hour or two every week to figure out lineups and positions, and how to rotate your players. One of the things that I did with my coach pitch team had the kids bat in order of their jersey number and then rotate them all through the positions throughout the game.

Managing player dynamics

Every player is different. Every player can play at a different level than the other. Some will require more coaching than others. However, you’ll also have ones you can count on to know what to do in given situations without constantly reminding them throughout the game. There are going to be players who want to play certain positions, and that is all they want to play. And then it will feel like the entire team wants to know the score and where they bat in the lineup.

It will become quickly apparent what every kid’s dynamic will be throughout the season. Find out what motivates each player. Some will want to know where they bat in the order every time they come in from playing in the field. Some aren’t going to say much and are going to know exactly what their job is for that given day.

Parental involvement

Managing parents tends to be even harder than coaching their kids.

You’ll most likely have some parents who step up and help you coach the team. If you are lucky, you’ll also have parents who are encouraging throughout the season. These are the ones who aren’t ultra-competitive or complaining about their kids’ playing time. Embrace these parents who want to become involved.

Have a parent meeting either before or at the first practice and set the expectations early for them. Let them know that you want them to be involved and encouraging. You want them to not be demeaning and rude to other parents, coaches, players, and the umpires.

Remember, coach: Your kid is still a player

As a head coach, this is something that I quickly forgot. I was harder on my son than any other player on the team. This is natural when it comes to coaching your own child. Why? I had higher expectations for him than I did for other players. But, I also forgot during that season that he was still only 6 years old. He was going to play in the dirt and not listen to what me, as a coach, had to say.

As an assistant coach, I still catch myself being this way. Our children respond best to coaching and instructions when they come from a parent other than me. One of the best ways to get the point across to your child? Have one of the other coaches be the one who talks to and instructs your child.

These are just a few tips that I have learned throughout my time coaching my own child throughout his baseball career. The thing to remember throughout the season though is, in the end, you want your kid to have fun.

Because if they have fun, you have fun.

A version of Coaching Your Own Child first appeared on The Rookie Dad. Photo: © soupstock/ Adobe Stock.

“That ball was out of bounds!” I tell my wife sitting next to me on the metal bleachers. My butt hurts, but it’s the price I gladly pay. Did my wife roll her eyes? I think she did. That’s OK, I don’t expect her to get it. Not like me. She isn’t a parent-athlete.

Being a parent-athlete is tough. I go to every practice, sit on those hard metal bleachers and drink copious amounts of Diet Coke from a giant bucket I got from the hardware store. That’s true commitment, and I get it if the rest of the world doesn’t understand. It’s a hard life, but one that has chosen me. I didn’t intend to be a parent-athlete, but what are you going to do when greatness comes calling?

At practices, the parents around me talk about travel teams, club teams and special coaches from the Ukraine. I didn’t know those existed when I first started back when my daughter was only 5. But like they say, you have to start early if you hope to have any chance of making all-district. I don’t know what that is, but it’s the collective goal for parent-athletes. I’ve learned a lot from all of them.

For example, I am an expert in every sport my children play. Soccer, baseball, volleyball — I apparently have Olympic-level advice to give from the sidelines. I didn’t think any of us parent-athletes could be so knowledgeable, but that was before I realized we all had talent. You can’t define it. The talent is tough to quantify, but it’s there. Which is really great because I have to tell my kid what to do when the ball does something.

Some of the parents around me, during practice, talk about where they are going next. Orlando mostly, sometimes Sioux Falls, North Dakota. Then they will talk about spending $10,000 a summer for the gear to do whatever sport we are currently experts in. Gotta have those ultra high-end knee pads when playing something. Uniform shorts affect the level of play a great deal, more than you would think. That’s why they have to be bought from a small island in the South Pacific. Athletic gear isn’t cheap. A parent-athlete can’t go cheap. Go big or go home, like with the buckets of Diet Coke.

We are getting to the point where I don’t even know why we have to hire coaches anymore. I should just make my children play every sport, but listen to me from the sidelines. “Get that ball!” I’ll yell every once in a while when I look up from my phone that’s tracking my child’s stats internationally. That’s top-quality coaching. But still, hiring coaches shows total commitment. So we, all the parent-athletes, got together last week and decided we needed to hire a conditioning coach. Conditioning is important, but only if done in a controlled setting with me watching from the bleachers on my canvas stadium seat. It’s nice, and it’s woven by the same little hands that made my kid’s uniform.   

“I’m going to say something. That ball was out of bounds,” I tell my wife.

“We aren’t at volleyball anymore. That game ended an hour ago.”

“Where are we?”

“Soccer. Your son is playing soccer.”

Excellent. I know a lot about soccer.  What time do I pick up my trophy?

A version of this first ran on Hossman at Home.

Another sports season has started. That means parents are running around, trying to figure out how they will manage to get their kids to practices and games. They should also be figuring out how to be a better sports parent.

I’m taking a sabbatical from coaching this season after eight years as a soccer coach and three as a baseball coach. I know the frustrations coaches and parents can have during a sports season, but I want to cover what a coach needs from parents.

Coaches and parents have a partnership. They both have the players’ best interests at heart. But the coach also has the team’s best interest at heart. Your player has been absorbed into a team and is no longer an individual.

My easiest players to work with over the years are the ones with parents who gave me the freedom to place their child wherever I wanted despite their wishes to have the kid in the highest profile positions. One of my favorite types of “better sports parent” is the one who cheers the whole team on. They know each player’s name, congratulate them when they do things right and encourage them through struggles. Be that parent and your child will be happier. So will the coach and the team.

Here are some other tips on how to be a better sports parent:

Be on time

If a coach says practice starts at 5 p.m. that doesn’t mean you’re dropping your player off at 5. That means the player is on the field next to the coach at 5. Getting out of the car at 5 is late. It is always better to arrive at practices early. When kids arrive at practice, they mess around or chat with their teammates. Once practice starts, that’s when they stretch and warm up. If they are walking across the field at 5, they missed stretching. Also, if one player is late, other players might believe they can be late. Lateness ruins a team’s dynamic.

A better sports parent leaves coaching to the coach

It is confusing for players when parents yell one thing while their coach yells another. Even if a parent knows more about the sport than the coach, they are taking credibility away from the coach while yelling instructions. The coach sees the field and knows the capabilities of every player. A parent knows their child. The coach has spent time with all the players. There may be a different plan than what the parents are seeing. Also, it does no good for a parent to yell during a game. Cheer, but other than that, keep the berating to yourself.

Stay away from team meetings

After a certain age, parents don’t have to listen in on the huddle. Once parents approach the huddle, the players start looking around at their parents and believe the game/practice is over. Just stay away until it breaks. While I’m giving last-minute advice or even coming down on a player for behaving in an unsportsmanlike way, I don’t need him looking around to see if his parent hears.

Coaches see the team, not just one player

I’ll use a baseball analogy. Let’s say I have one great pitcher and he is a good fielder. Let’s also say I’ve got a good pitcher, but a bunch of players with mediocre gloves. I will need to put that great pitcher in the field where a lot of balls are getting through and put the good pitcher on the mound. Sure, I’ll stick the great pitcher on the mound when I can, but most of the time he will play in areas where the biggest gaps are. A great player at a position might not get to play that position because they can help the team in another area. So you might think your kid is the best player on the team and wonder why they are stuck in an unglamorous position. There’s a reason and it is a team-first reason.

Don’t talk bad about the coach at home

When you speak ill words about the coach at home, it starts an infestation. First, it affects your player. They don’t want to listen to the coach and believe there are better ways. That spreads to other players and soon the coach has lost the team. The coach will find out what you are saying and that is not a fun conversation to have.

This is not your glory moment, it is your kids

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve come off the field and heard a parent say: “When I was playing …” I don’t care how good of a player you were. Playing and coaching/managing a team of kids is different. A better sports parent lets his or her children develop their own memory.

Don’t overestimate your child’s skill

I understand you’ve been playing in the park or the backyard with your kid for years and watching games with them. But you haven’t spent time on the field with them during a practice. The kid you tossed a ball back and forth with or kicked a ball into a goal with differs from the one running with teammates. You need to accept that maybe, in a team setting, your player’s team skills need work.

Don’t feed your child junk food on game day

I can’t tell you how many times kids have told me they stopped at McDonald’s on the way to a game. After about 30 minutes of running in the hot sun, those fries and burgers bubble their way up. The same goes for soda. Don’t give soda to a player before a game. Sure, they might think they have a sugar rush, but once that sugar burns off, they are tired and crashing. Plain old water works just fine.

Tell your players to help clean the field

Helping a coach pick up cones and garbage goes a long way. I feel a great sense of pride when I see my players clearing a field after play. When coaches see this behavior, it makes them believe the player is not just a part of the team for themselves but has bought into the “we” attitude. It also helps them decide who the leaders are.

Parents, please have fun

I see your faces after the game. They should look happy. Win or lose, your children were doing something they love to do. You took the time in your day to make sure they got there. It was a beautiful moment regardless of the outcome. Smile at your player when they come off the field, and give him or her a hug and an encouraging word. Don’t bring up the bad plays. The same goes for the coach. Give the coach a handshake and say, “Thank you.”

A version of this first appeared on One Good Dad. Photo: © soupstock/ Adobe Stock.

We were a team, a collective. We had an excellent coach (Vincent Pandoliano), and gave everything we had to each other and to the sport. Our game was passionate, honest and exciting. We always got the same feel from the sidelines – loud and proud support.

That explains some of the heartfelt disappointment felt by me and my son, now 14, with his youth soccer academy here in New York.

No skill but lots of spirit

We relocated here from Hong Kong in July 2017. Years before, my son picked up soccer over there. His first team sssssssucked! They lacked basic skills, individually and collectively, and got punished for it repeatedly.

What struck me, however, was the camaraderie among the boys on the team. They did everything together. The sport connected them and, little by little, they improved. Because of this strong team spirit, my son was eager to go to practices, learn soccer skills, and support the team as well as he could – in losses and wins.

He eventually landed on a team at the Hong Kong Football Club. It was his earlier perseverance that helped him get selected out of a group of more than 30 boys. He experienced failure early on, learned from it, and relentlessly worked on his skills. I was superbly proud.

This new team was wonderful: great coaches, friendly and talented players, amazing team spirit. That team spirit carried them to several unlikely victories and, ultimately, to season’s championship. Notably, the boys didn’t really care about individual accolades. They, instead, made numerous rounds of congratulating one another – something no parent was expecting from a bunch of seemingly selfish teenagers. I felt like I was reliving my volleyball days. It was heartwarming.

Smirks, scorn and youth soccer players

This is why both of us were so terribly disappointed when he started playing on his current youth soccer team in NYC.

We took the risk of committing to this program because there were literally no other similar options available given the timing of our arrival in the city (all tryouts and selection are completed in the spring). The uniform and related gear took more than three months to arrive – all because the academy made an agreement with an incompetent “mom and pop” vendor and didn’t have reserve stock. My son ended up borrowing bits and pieces of the uniform from fellow players – only to receive smirks and occasional scorn from them. Smirks and scorn! I kid you not.

Smirks and scorn very quickly became a team trademark of sorts. My son would often return from practices bewildered and sad. Why? Teammates chastised him for making mistakes. The coach seemed to either pay no attention to or encourage this behavior. He’d appear right before the practice and disappear immediately after. No feedback, no individual attention, no care. To date, he hasn’t responded to a single email I’ve sent requesting a meeting.

The clique culture on the team was most disheartening. Boys were friendly only in small groups of 3 or 4, and this was evident in their game on the field: “passing to friends.” Before games, players wouldn’t even greet all of their teammates. I was completely blown away when my son told me that one of his teammates called him “the worst player on the team” after “taking a poll.” When I shared this issue with the program director and asked for a meeting he told me he was “going on vacation” and delegated the task to the head coach. The head coach’s reply was generic and bureaucratic.

My wife and I are very lucky to have a resilient boy. He is able to find joy and friendships in various places if not on the soccer field. What’s more, to his teammates’ and coach’s surprise, he shined in an indoor 5-on-5 tournament recently, helping his team win first place.

What about kids who are not as resilient? How would they be affected? What would they learn in a year’s commitment? Will this atmosphere defeat their aspirations in this sport?

Recently, my son’s friends who play on other academy teams started asking him to try out and join them. I’ll be very happy when he does. He still loves soccer.

Learn from my mistakes

A few takeaway points for parents looking for youth soccer or other sports programs:

• Don’t just seek general feedback from other parents and community members about a particular sports program before you sign up. Most don’t monitor the actual team dynamic and other important nuances in organization and coaching.
• Interview the head of the program, head coach, and the specific coach who will work with your child when possible. Ask to observe a few practices and pay attention to interactions on the field (from the coach and among players).
• Talk to your child in advance about various tactics of dealing with pressure and conflicts. Monitor their moods on the field and after practices or games. Be present with your unwavering support.

Youth soccer photo by Isaiah Rustad on Unsplash

The whistle blew three times causing my kids to jump in exuberance while their faces lit up with joy. By “my kids,” I’m talking about a soccer team that I coach. I have been a part of their lives for seven years. That’s 14 seasons of soccer — fall and spring. I would love to do the math and answer how many practices, games, and hours that I have spent with these kids, but I’m too tired right now to crunch numbers. Let’s say I’ve put in a lot of time. And so have they. After all this time, they are not just my players. They are my kids.

Back to the game …

The whistle blew and my kids ran around and hugged one another. Suddenly, water poured down my back and in my face. My first thought was, “They need to drink that water instead of wasting it.” I was afraid they would cramp up because they were running around in the hot sun. But, I went with the celebration.

At the start of the game, I shook the other coach’s hand and high-fived with the opposing team. We wished one another “good luck” and then I regrouped with my team. After pumping them up with excitement and doing my best Vince Lombardi impression, I released the kids to play their game. Playoff games for any age and sport are always emotional and difficult to keep in check. So I was prepared for a heightened game.

The refs started the game and a clash of 6^th graders began. My kids played their hearts out right from the get-go. The refs were letting the kids play, which in soccer means a lot of grabbing, shoving, and forearms. Calls were missed and made against both teams. Parents of the other team yelled at my kids and the refs. Curses flew across the field. My kids continued to play … and play hard.

Soccer parents gone wild

One of the opposing soccer parents, (I call him “angry bald man in blue shirt”) could not control himself. He shouted with hatred throughout the game. Another man, (I call him “angry man in baseball hat”) joined him in his hatred. I challenged my team to not be distracted and continue to play hard. A goal that should have counted for my team was called back. It went through the net and from where the ref stood, he didn’t see it go in. Since the ball went out the back of the net, he ruled against the goal. Actually, it was a goal. A parent has it on video. Anyway, we lined back up in positions and played hard without letting the missed call get to us. Finally, we scored a goal. Another half came and went and the whistle blew three times. We were champions.

After jumping around and after the dousing of water, we walked up to the line to shake the other team’s hands. Half the kids congratulated us and half said nothing. The coach was gracious and offered his congratulations. Some of the assistants shook my hand without saying a word. I turned to head over to where my son was celebrating so we could have a special father/son moment, when I heard shouts from the angry parents.

Angry hat man was next to a player that didn’t even play that much and shouted in his ear, “You don’t deserve this!” Stopping in my tracks, I walked over to him. His actions lit a fire inside my stomach and I yelled back, “Don’t talk to my kids, you talk to me!” He stared at me with hateful eyes and yelled again at my kids. I stepped closer knowing I had many little eyes and ears all around and spoke quietly, “If you have something to say, say it to me. Don’t you ever talk to my kids again.” A couple seconds passed before I joined the champions.

After celebrating and handing out trophies and taking pictures, I said goodbye to my kids and congratulated them on a great season. One kid that I have coached since the beginning, but doesn’t play often walked over to me and gave me a hug and said, “I love you Coach Jason.” I bet he would have done that even if we lost.

My kids … That’s who they are. And I love them. And apparently, they love me. I wonder if coaches who swear at their “players” receive and give the same thing. The same goes for the soccer parents on the sidelines.

A version of this first appeared on One Good Dad.

This season will be my fourth coaching my son’s soccer team. Coaching him has been one of the highlights of parenting for me. But with coaching comes a lot of stress, anxiety, and weariness – mostly because of other parents.

Luckily, I’m more comfortable than ever because the parents trust me and I know them. Being a coach is a difficult job. Parents entrust us with their most precious gift in the entire world. Every game and practice I remind myself of that. But while I do my best to help children develop, the parent-coach relationship is a two-way street.

Here are some things players’ parents should remember to help coaches and their children do their best:

Coaches are only human

I try and remind my team of this constantly. I am only human and I will make mistakes in judgment, planning, and organization. Many times I’ll get it right, but mistakes happen. Also, most of us are volunteers and have packed coaching into an already busy day. Go easy on us.

The coach sees the whole picture

A parent often focuses mainly (or solely) on his or her child, and there isn’t anything wrong with that. But the coach is looking at the whole team – who is in and out of position, who’s tired, who’s hurt, who’s in a mismatch, who’s doing great, who needs extra encouragement – and trying to balance playing time and many other things. We see your children and every other child on the field.

Talk to your coach

I encourage parents to talk to me because if they don’t, their kids will. Kids always tell me during practice what their parents say. Parents are part of the team and talking to your kids without talking to me first can create disunity and dysfunction on the team.

Temper your praise

I’ve heard a kid say, “My dad says I am the best player on the team” or “My parents say I’m the strongest person on the team.” Then other kids hear this and have no problem explaining to to this player why they are not the best – usually in a not-so-nice way. Encouraging your children is essential to sports, but don’t put them on the pedestal if you want them to be part of the team. These comments make your kid seem cocky and no one wants to hear someone boasting about themselves.

Go easy on the coach’s kid

The coach’s kid is one of the most scrutinized players on the field. I get that. His playing time and position are monitored by many parents. I used to be overly sensitive to that. I ended up being harder on him than I was on any other kid, even to the detriment of the team. Then, one day, a parent who played professional soccer to me, “Stop pulling him out so much. The team needs him.” Another thing to keep in mind?  The coach’s kid is usually at every practice and every game, often the first to arrive and the last to leave. He or she has usually earned that playing time.

Let the kids have fun

Winning is great and adds to the fun, but it isn’t the most important thing. If children aren’t having fun, they won’t learn the great lessons sports instill and they’ll resent being forced to practice and play.

Parents should have fun, too

Over the years, I’ve seen parents almost to come blows with other parents. I’ve heard parents swearing or yelling at their kids, other kids, refs, and coaches. If you are not having fun at the games, then you’re only making it harder on your children. Have fun and enjoy the moment. Don’t let your frustration ruin their time.

A version of this first appeared on One Good Dad. Photo by Jeffrey Lin on Unsplash.