If We Want Our Kids to Grow, We Have to Be Willing to Grow Too

By Shaun Goodsell

I've heard some version of this from sports parents for nearly three decades.

"I know I shouldn't say anything after the game, but I can't help it."
"I know I get too emotional, but that's just who I am."
"I know I probably shouldn't contact the coach, but I can't sit there and do nothing."
"I know I put pressure on him, but I just want him to reach his potential."
"I know she needs to handle this herself, but I can't watch her struggle."

I can't help it.

I understand the feeling. But I think we need to challenge the phrase.

Because "I can't help it" can become one of the roadblocks standing between our kids and the very development we say we want for them.

Think About What We're Asking From Our Athletes

We ask young athletes to control their emotions. Move on from mistakes. Listen to feedback they don't like. Stay composed when officials make bad calls. Deal with coaches they don't always agree with. Handle disappointment. Accept roles they didn't choose. Communicate instead of avoiding difficult conversations. Take responsibility. Become resilient.

In other words, we're constantly asking our kids to learn how to manage themselves when their emotions are telling them to do something else.

Then something happens that triggers us as parents and we say: "I can't help it."

There's a contradiction there that we need to be willing to see.

If a 15-year-old says, "I yelled at the referee because I couldn't help it," we don't accept that. If they say, "I blamed my teammate because I was frustrated and couldn't help it," we call that a lack of accountability. If they say, "I quit because I was angry and couldn't help it," we tell them they need to learn to manage their emotions.

So why should the standard be different for us?

Your Emotions Aren't the Problem

Being emotional about your child's experience isn't wrong. Of course you care. Of course it hurts when they're hurting. Of course you're frustrated when you believe something is unfair. Of course you want to protect them.

The issue isn't whether you experience those emotions. The issue is what you do with them. That's the same lesson we're trying to teach our kids.

Emotional regulation doesn't mean not feeling something. It means learning how to choose your response even when you're feeling something strongly.

That's a skill. For athletes. And for parents.

Sometimes "Helping" Is Actually Getting in the Way

This is where things get uncomfortable.

Your athlete gets benched. You want to call the coach. Your athlete has conflict with a teammate. You want to tell them exactly what to do. Your athlete doesn't make the team. You immediately start finding another opportunity. Your athlete is frustrated. You start solving. Your athlete is disappointed. You start explaining why it wasn't their fault.

Every one of those reactions can come from love. But love and development aren't always the same thing. Sometimes the most developmental thing we can do is not immediately remove the discomfort.

Because what happens if we're always the first person to solve the problem? Our athlete doesn't get to practice solving it.

What happens if we're always the one communicating with the coach? Our athlete doesn't develop their own voice.

What happens if we're constantly protecting their confidence? They may never discover that confidence can survive disappointment.

What happens if we're always clearing adversity out of the road? They don't get enough practice walking through it.

And then we wonder why they're struggling with independence.

Don't Do for Them What They're Ready to Learn to Do for Themselves

I think this is one of the most important principles in parenting young athletes.

Don't consistently do for your child what they're developmentally ready to begin doing for themselves.

That doesn't mean abandoning them. It means changing your role.

Instead of: "I'll take care of it." Try: "How do you think you could handle this?"
Instead of: "I'm calling the coach." Try: "What would you like your coach to understand?"
Instead of immediately giving advice: "Do you want me to listen, or would you like some ideas?"
Instead of rescuing them from disappointment: "This is hard. I believe you can work through it."

That's not passive parenting. That's developmental parenting.

Your Athlete Is Watching How You Handle Their Adversity

Here's something parents sometimes miss.

Our kids aren't only learning from how they handle difficult situations. They're learning from how we handle their difficult situations.

They notice your face when they make a mistake. They feel your frustration about playing time. They hear your comments about the coach. They know when you're anxious about their future. They can tell when their performance affects your mood.

We may tell them, "It's just a game." But if we're miserable for three hours afterward, which message do you think they believe?

We may say, "Mistakes are part of learning." But if our body language changes every time they make one, which lesson are we actually teaching?

Kids learn from what we model far more than what we announce.

Maybe Your Athlete Doesn't Need Another Coach in the Car

Here's another challenge.

Your child already has coaches. Most athletes don't need another one waiting in the parking lot.

The car ride home has become one of the most talked-about environments in youth sports for a reason.

Parents analyze. Correct. Teach. Question. Evaluate. Sometimes before the athlete has even taken off their equipment emotionally.

Ask yourself: Does my athlete experience me primarily as their parent — or as another evaluator of their performance?

That's a hard question. But it's an important one.

Sometimes the most powerful thing you can say after competition is: "I loved watching you compete." And then drive home.

"That's Just Who I Am" Isn't a Development Plan

I hear this too. "I'm competitive. That's just who I am." "I'm intense." "I'm protective." "I speak my mind."

Fine. Those may all be true.

But self-awareness isn't identifying your tendencies and then giving yourself permission to keep behaving the same way.

Self-awareness creates responsibility.

If I know I'm reactive, then my responsibility is learning how to pause. If I know I give too much advice, my responsibility is learning to listen. If I know I struggle watching my child fail, my responsibility is learning how to tolerate that discomfort. If I know I become overly invested in results, my responsibility is restoring perspective.

That's development. And if we expect it from our kids, we should expect it from ourselves.

Stop Asking Only What Your Athlete Needs to Improve

We spend enormous amounts of time evaluating young athletes. What are their weaknesses? What skills do they need? What needs to improve? What would take them to the next level?

Here's a different exercise.

What does my athlete need me to get better at?

Listening? Patience? Managing my emotions? Trusting them? Asking instead of telling? Letting go? Separating their goals from mine? Allowing them to fail? Keeping perspective?

Maybe the next developmental plan your family needs isn't another one for your athlete. Maybe it's yours.

The Greatest Advantage Might Be Your Growth

We want our young athletes to reach their potential. But potential doesn't develop in isolation. It develops inside environments. And parents are a significant part of that environment.

That's why I believe one of the greatest competitive and developmental advantages we can give our children has nothing to do with another camp, trainer, team, tournament, or piece of equipment.

It's our willingness to become better at parenting the journey.

Not perfect. Better. More aware. More intentional. More capable of regulating ourselves. More willing to listen. More comfortable letting them struggle. More confident stepping back. More able to recognize when the situation requires us — and when it requires them.

So the Next Time You Hear Yourself Say "I Can't Help It"...

Stop. Because that may be the exact moment where your development begins.

What am I feeling?
Why is this triggering me?
Whose problem is this?
What does my athlete actually need from me?
Am I about to help them — or relieve my own discomfort?

And maybe the most important question: If I respond this way repeatedly, what am I teaching my child?

We can't demand self-control from our athletes while excusing ourselves from practicing it.

We can't tell them adversity builds resilience while removing every obstacle from their path.

We can't ask them to take ownership while continuing to take ownership away from them.

And we can't continually tell our kids to grow while responding to our own opportunities for growth with: "That's just who I am."

Our kids deserve better than that. And frankly, we're capable of better than that.

Unlocking Their Potential Starts With Ours

The goal isn't to become the perfect sports parent.

The goal is to become a developing parent raising a developing athlete.

Your athlete is learning. So are you. Your athlete will make mistakes. So will you. Your athlete needs feedback, reflection, practice, and another opportunity to get it right. So do you.

Maybe helping our kids reach their potential starts with being willing to reach more of our own. Because when parents grow, athletes have more room to grow.

Shaun Goodsell
Mental Skills Coach