Youth Sports and Three Things

In our family, it’s safe to say that life can often revolve around sports. We’re either playing in a game, heading to a practice, or watching something, sometimes all in the same day. Both of our kids have been involved in sports since they were little, and the calendar has often been filled with practices, games, and team events. My wife and I both played and coached at the high school level, so this world isn’t new to us. We understand the rhythms and the demands. And yes, we’ve got our favorite teams we cheer for (and we probably take it all a bit too seriously sometimes). Simply put, we’re a sports family through and through.

And honestly, I really do believe in the power of sports in so many ways. The benefits are real. Kids learn how to work hard and stay disciplined. They experience the value of being part of something bigger than themselves. They learn teamwork, perseverance, and how to handle both victory and defeat. They are active and constantly growing, physically, emotionally, and relationally. Some of our most meaningful family memories have happened around a court, field, track, or gym. Sports, at their best, can be a beautiful part of childhood.

But I’ve also seen the dark side, the version of youth sports that isn’t quite so pretty. Over the years, I’ve watched the pressure mount on kids from all angles. I’ve seen athletes, some barely old enough to drive, burn out because they’re being pushed to perform like a pro. I’ve sat in the stands and heard dads degrade their sons, moms complain about every coaching decision, and parents treat referees and umpires like enemies. I’ve heard heartbreaking stories, like the middle school girl who recently shared with me that she doesn’t want to keep playing a certain sport in high school, but her parents are making her do it anyway. My heart sank when she shared this with me, because I’ve seen what happens when kids lose their love for the game under the weight of someone else’s expectations.

Somewhere along the way, it became clear to me that I needed to approach this whole thing differently. A few years ago, I made a decision: when it comes to my kids and sports, I’m going to do my best to simply encourage them. And I don’t just mean in their athletic development, but in their character. I started a habit that’s stuck with me for years. Every time I drop them off for a game or practice, I remind them of three simple things: “Work hard. Lead well. Have fun.” That’s it. No advice about “keeping their eye on the ball” or any other fundamentals. No talk about their performance. No shouting instructions from the stands. I’m not trying to be an extra coach, I’m just their dad, cheering them on.

And those three things? They really do cover a lot. If they work hard, they’re going to grow and improve on and off the field. If they lead well, they’ll make a difference in the lives of their teammates and coaches. And if they have fun, they’ll actually want to keep playing. That last one might mean more than we think it does. Most kids start playing sports because they want to have fun. If we adults steal that joy by making it all about winning, performance, or college scholarships, we’re missing the point. If all I’m pushing is effort, leadership, and enjoyment, then there’s a good chance my kids won’t feel unnecessary pressure from me. They’ll know I’m in their corner, no matter what the scoreboard says.

And here’s why that really matters: because at the end of the day, what I want more than a win or a great stat line is a strong, healthy relationship with my kids. I want to be their biggest fan, not another voice of criticism. I want them to look back on these years and remember how much they loved playing, not how much they felt like they had to. I want them to know that it’s okay to enjoy the game just for what it is, a game. Something meant to be fun, life-giving, and formative. Not a job. Not a burden. Just a gift.

So, I’ll keep showing up. I’ll keep cheering. I’ll keep reminding them of those three simple things. And I’ll keep doing everything I can to be the kind of sports parent who builds up, not tears down. Because in the long run, that’s what matters most.