Jennie here. I have six kids, and at the moment—yes, almost all of them are involved in youth sports. From soccer fields to gymnastics gyms I’ve spent my fair share of weekends with a hot apple cider or waterbottle in one hand, a folding chair in the other and juggling snacks. Gotta have the snacks.
There are so many reasons I love youth sports for kids. They learn how to be on a team, build confidence, move their bodies, handle disappointment, and celebrate effort. Sports can be a safe and fun space for growth—and that’s the part I care about most. In our family, my kids get to choose their sport. It’s not about being the best or going pro—it’s about learning, trying, and having fun.
After every game, match, meet, etc I ask three things:
Did you have fun?
What was your favorite part?
What do you think you did well?
That’s it. No critiques. No film reviews. Just connection and encouragement.
But here’s what’s been bothering me.
Lately, I’ve noticed an uptick in unhealthy sideline behavior from other adults. Things like shouting at referees, criticizing kids’ performance loudly (theirs, their kids’ teammates, or even worse the other teams’ kids), rolling eyes or loud reactions when someone messes up, giving the cold shoulder after a tough game, or coaching from the sidelines in a way that sounds more like pressure than support. As a parent—and especially as a foster and adoptive parent—this is deeply concerning to me.
Yesterday, my 9 year old foster kiddo was playing against another team. Picture this: Cold, Windy, Rainy. And a little girl on the other team, was so emotional on the field, hiccuping from crying so hard – telling her dad, “I AM TRYING, I couldn’t see, the rain was in my eyes“. Later I heard her saying, “I do want to play, I couldn’t catch her she was really fast” Later she had an AMAZING throw in, right in front of me. Her dad yelled “you did it wrong” It broke my heart to watch how she went from huge grin to defeated in moments. I heard the parents calling their team kids a wide range of names and how as the game went on, the parents become increasingly frustrated while the kids became overwhelmed. My kiddo looked to me, and I reminded her, “ignore them, have fun, play your best, i’m right here!” Everytime she messed up she looked right at me. She was watching to see how I would react. Would I yell at her or encourage her? She was looking to me for co-regulation.
My children, like so many others, have already experienced adults who weren’t safe or kind. I want them to grow up surrounded by positive, emotionally healthy role models. While i’m not a perfect parent by any means, when they’re in environments where they are exposed to adults are being verbally abusive, where they’re being yelled at, compared, or made to feel like their value depends on their performance, it chips away at the very things sports are meant to build: self-worth, confidence, and connection. My kids don’t understand why other parents are being so unkind or cruel. Honestly, I don’t either. The last few games that I have taken my 9 year old and 12 year old to in the past month, have resulted in conversations in the car about how some adults have big feelings and that it is NOT okay for them to be unkind to their kids or to other kids. We’ve now started role playing how they are to respond to hecklers.
Last night, one of my kiddos asked me to “tell the world to stop being bullies”
So I put together these lighthearted—but meaningful—lists for caregivers. These are playful reminders tailored to different ages (because what a kindergartener needs from us is different from what a high schooler does). You’ll find guidance that’s not about rules—but about raising humans who feel safe, supported, and seen on and off the field.
For Parents of Kids Ages 4–8 (The “We Just Figured Out Which Goal Is Ours” Years)
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Let them chase butterflies and the ball.
Their attention span is still under construction—so is the concept of “positions.” -
A cartwheel during the game isn’t disrespect.
It’s joy, movement, and maybe showing off for Grandma. -
Yelling “SHOOT IT!” from the sidelines is like asking a squirrel to do your taxes.
They’re still learning what the game is—volume won’t speed it up. -
Every high five means more than the score.
Connection builds confidence. Scoreboards don’t. -
If they cry, they’re not soft—they’re small.
Big feelings in little bodies need big compassion. -
They won’t remember the game, but they will remember how you acted.
Be the parent they’re proud to spot on the sideline. -
They already ran the wrong way—no need to bring it up 14 more times.
Growth > gloating. Every kid has a blooper reel. -
There’s magic in messy play.
Mud, giggles, and juice boxes = childhood done right. -
They might still believe that every player gets a trophy and a dragon.
Don’t crush the wonder with a “winning-is-everything” talk. -
If they pick flowers, clap like they scored.
Because in their brain? That was the play. -
Their jersey is still longer than their legs.
That means they’re still very much in beginner mode—let them be little. -
Let the coach correct their dribble—you just cheer for the effort.
Even if the ball went to the moon. -
Nobody ever needed a performance review at age 5.
“I love watching you play” is the only post-game analysis required.
For Parents of Kids Ages 9–14 (The “I’m Taking This Seriously But Still Learning Everything” Years)
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Puberty and peer pressure are already playing defense—go easy on them.
This stage is messy, hormonal, and humbling. Sport should feel like a safe zone. -
They’re figuring out how to fail in public.
Make sure the lesson isn’t “If I mess up, I disappoint my parents.” -
Don’t be the reason they dread the ride home.
No lectures. Just snacks, memes, and “Did you have fun?” -
They may act like they don’t care. They do.
Your facial expressions on the sideline? They’ve noticed all of them. -
If you must yell, try “I love your hustle!” not “WHAT WAS THAT?!”
Encouragement fuels effort. Criticism fuels shame. -
Remember when they used to run like baby giraffes?
Celebrate the growth, not just the goals. -
They’re comparing themselves to every teammate already.
Your job is to be the antidote, not the amplifier. -
Mistakes mean they’re learning.
If they nailed it every time, it wouldn’t be called practice. -
That ref? Likely someone’s parent or an overworked teen.
Chill. They’re human. And doing their best. -
The sideline is not a coaching zone.
Two voices = confusion. Let the coach coach. -
Don’t confuse your dream with their interest.
Just because you loved sports doesn’t mean they have to. -
They might try a new sport every season—and that’s okay.
Sampling builds skill, confidence, and identity. -
If they’re laughing with teammates, it’s a win.
Fun is still the metric that matters most. -
“Did you try your best?” is more powerful than “Did you win?”
Effort is the muscle that builds resilience. -
If they need to quit, pivot, or take a break—it’s not failure.
It’s wisdom in progress.
For Parents of High School Athletes (The “Almost Grown But Still Need You” Years)
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They’re not adults yet.
They still need love over lectures—especially after a tough game. -
Losing a game isn’t losing their worth.
Keep the perspective. They’re building identity, not a résumé. -
College recruiters may be watching, but so are younger siblings.
Model how to be a gracious winner and a grounded supporter. -
You don’t need to rewatch film—just be their safe landing spot.
Their coach breaks down tape. You build them back up. -
Critiquing from the car ruins the connection.
Drive-thru praise > drive-by analysis. -
They might be tough on the field, but soft off it.
Let them drop the armor when they’re home. -
This might be their last season ever.
Don’t spend it stressed over stats. Soak up the memories. -
If you’re making it about your pride, you’re missing the point.
It’s their journey. Your job is to cheer, not steer. -
Praise the perseverance.
Showing up for 6 a.m. practices while juggling school is heroic. -
A bad game isn’t bad character.
Don’t conflate performance with personality. -
They know the stakes. What they need is belief.
A calm, “You’ve got this” outshines a thousand side-eye sighs. -
Be someone they want in the stands.
If they look your way, let them see trust. -
Celebrate their courage to compete, not just their scoreboard stats.
Showing up is brave. Keep naming it. -
They’re not just building athletic skills—they’re building adult habits.
What they learn here goes far beyond the field. -
When the season ends, they’ll remember how you made them feel.
Be their biggest fan—no conditions, no caveats.
This all matters because the sideline behavior of adults shapes the emotional experience of kids in sports—and those early experiences influence how children see themselves, how they relate to others, and whether they stay engaged in healthy activities over time.
Youth sports shape identity. For many kids, the soccer field, basketball court, or baseball diamond is their first experience with teamwork, performance, failure, and feedback. The emotional tone of these moments imprints quickly—especially when tied to caregiver reactions.
The nervous system is watching. Kids are constantly scanning for safety or threat. A parent’s angry outburst or visible disappointment can activate their stress response (fight, flight, or freeze)—not growth or resilience. This derails emotional learning and can wire in anxiety, avoidance, or people-pleasing tendencies.
Self-worth gets built—or bruised—on the sidelines. Kids internalize messages fast. “You’re only proud of me if I win” turns into perfectionism or shame. “You love watching me play” builds secure attachment and inner confidence.
Sports are supposed to teach life skills—like teamwork, perseverance, emotional regulation. But these skills only take root when kids feel emotionally safe enough to risk, mess up, and try again.
Dropout rates are rising. According to the Aspen Institute, the #1 reason kids quit sports is because it’s not fun anymore. That often starts with adult over-involvement or pressure.
Co-regulation is key. Kids learn to manage their highs and lows by borrowing the calm of the adults around them. If the adults are dysregulated—yelling at refs, pacing, fuming—it dysregulates the child too.
Oh! Story time again! You’ll love this one…promise!
Last year, one of my daughters decided to try soccer. She was nine. New sport. New team. New cleats that hadn’t seen a speck of dirt. But she wanted to play. The girls on the team had clearly been playing together for a while—they passed effortlessly, they had chants, they knew the drill. The coaches? Decades of experience, and thei resumes were impressive. Meanwhile, here came my girl: freshly adopted, still finding her place in the world, and walking into a team dynamic she’d never experienced before. She didn’t have the footwork. She didn’t yet understand offsides. She definitely didn’t have the instinct to run into the game plays chasing a ball at full speed. She was afraid of the ball. But what she did have? Heart. And the courage to try.
That first game? Oof.
Handball in the goalie box—penalty kick. The other team scored.
Later, she ran offsides—twice.
Even later, she turned around to chase the ball… the wrong way.
At one point, she ran away from the ball when it came to her.
And then the worst part: The parents on the other team laughed at her. Loudly.
But our team’s sideline of parents?
They clapped. They encouraged her every single time she touched the ball that season.
They shouted: “You’ve got this!” “Keep going!” “Good hustle!”
They saw her heart. Not just her footwork. They showed her: “You belong here.” After practices or games all year she would hear:
“We’re watching you work so hard!”
“That moment where you ran between the players was so brave!”
“You’re showing so much confidence!”
“Love that you didn’t give up on that play where you protected the goalie…”
And the coaches? They stuck with her. Gentle reminders. Patience with teaching footwork and skills.
And now? Her, finishing her second season with that team? She’s flying. Literally jumping into the air to stop goals. Fearless. Focused. Fierce. The goalie’s mom stated, that she appreciates when she’s on defense, because she knows she’ll try to protect the goalie, keeping the ball out of there. WOW!
What changed? Not just her skill—but the voices in her head. The ones that got planted by adults who chose encouragement over embarrassment. Who understood that every player starts somewhere, and what matters most is not whether a kid scores—it’s whether a kid feels safe enough to keep trying. The coaches, the parents, us – it takes a village.
And at the end of the day, youth sports should be a playground for growth. And parents—whether they realize it or not—are often the biggest influence on whether a child walks off the field feeling strong…or small. Lets normalize lifting our kids up, encouraging them to try their best and celebrating their small moments.
Let’s keep youth sports fun. Let’s be the adults they deserve.