The Parent Work Series

I want to say something at the beginning of this series that may make some parents uncomfortable.

That's intentional.

Not because parents need more criticism. Most parents I know love their kids fiercely and are doing the best they know how.

But love doesn't make us objective. And good intentions don't guarantee good outcomes.

After nearly three decades of working with athletes, parents, coaches, and teams, I've become increasingly convinced that there are conversations we need to have about youth sports that we're avoiding.

Because when something isn't going well for a young athlete, we have become very good at finding someone to blame.

The coach. The organization. The politics. The teammates. The playing time. The role. The system. And sometimes — the kid.

They're not working hard enough. They're not confident enough. They're not mentally tough enough. They're not focused enough. They're not motivated enough. They're not communicating enough. They're not taking enough responsibility.

Maybe.

But there's another person in the system we need to be willing to examine.

Us.

What If the Problem Isn't Always Out There?

That's the question this series is going to keep asking.

Not: "Are parents the problem?" That's simplistic and unfair.

The better question is: "What am I contributing to this?"

That's a much harder question, because it requires us to stop evaluating everybody else long enough to examine ourselves.

We see our intentions. Other people experience our behavior. There's a difference.

You may intend to advocate. Your child may experience pressure. You may intend to protect. Your child may learn avoidance. You may intend to build confidence. Your child may become dependent on reassurance. You may intend to help. Your child may hear that you don't believe they can handle it. You may intend to defend your child from an unfair coach. Your child may learn that whenever they're unhappy, somebody else is responsible.

Intentions matter. But impact matters too.

Coaches Have Become Convenient Scapegoats

Are there bad coaches? Absolutely. Are there coaches who communicate poorly? Yes. Are there coaches who make bad decisions? Of course. Are there environments parents should remove their children from? Absolutely.

But here's the part we don't talk about enough: sometimes the coach isn't the problem.

Sometimes your kid isn't playing because someone else is currently better. Sometimes the role isn't what your athlete wants because the team needs something different. Sometimes the feedback hurts because there's truth in it. Sometimes your athlete isn't being singled out. They're being coached.

Sometimes the coach isn't destroying your child's confidence. Your child is experiencing the discomfort of being challenged.

And sometimes the parent who immediately labels that discomfort as unfairness makes the situation much harder for the athlete to navigate.

We need enough courage to distinguish between a harmful environment and an uncomfortable one. They're not the same thing.

Our Kids Can Become Scapegoats Too

Parents don't only blame coaches. Sometimes we turn our kids into improvement projects.

They need more confidence. More discipline. Better focus. More mental toughness. Better emotional control. More accountability.

So we send them to coaches, trainers, mental skills professionals, and development programs — all trying to help the athlete change.

And sometimes that's exactly what's needed. But occasionally I want to ask: What if the athlete isn't the only person who needs coaching?

We're asking a 15-year-old to regulate their emotions while a 45-year-old parent is losing sleep over playing time. We're asking the athlete to stop worrying about what the coach thinks while we're analyzing every decision the coach makes. We're telling our kid not to compare themselves to teammates while we're comparing their opportunities with every other kid on the team. We're asking them to handle adversity while desperately trying to remove it. We're asking them to take ownership while we're calling people on their behalf.

Then we wonder why development stalls.

Denial Protects Us. It Doesn't Develop Us.

Nobody enjoys discovering that something they're doing out of love may be making things harder for their child.

So we defend ourselves: "I'm just advocating." "I know my kid." "You don't understand the situation." "I'm only trying to help." "Any parent would do the same thing." "That's just who I am." "I can't help it."

Maybe.

But those statements can also protect us from having to look deeper.

And if we're unwilling to examine our own behavior, we lose one of the greatest opportunities sport gives us: the opportunity to develop alongside our children.

Your Kid Doesn't Need a Perfect Parent

Perfect parents don't exist.

You're going to overreact. You're going to say the wrong thing. You're going to give advice when you should have listened. You're going to intervene too early sometimes. You're going to wait too long other times. You're going to bring your own fears into their experience.

I have no interest in shaming parents for being human.

But there's an enormous difference between making mistakes and refusing to examine them. The goal isn't perfection. The goal is awareness. And then responsibility.

The Standard We Set for Our Kids Should Apply to Us

Think about what we ask from athletes: be coachable, accept feedback, manage your emotions, take responsibility, don't blame others, learn from mistakes, stay curious, adapt, keep growing.

Those are great expectations.

So here's my challenge: Are we willing to live by them too?

Can we receive feedback about our parenting without becoming defensive? Can we manage our emotions when our child is struggling? Can we take responsibility for our contribution to a difficult situation? Can we stop blaming the coach long enough to ask whether there is something our child needs to learn? Can we admit when our anxiety is driving our decisions? Can we recognize when our helping has become controlling? Can we change?

Because it's difficult to demand growth from young people while exempting ourselves from it.

Before You Blame, Look Inward

When something happens in your child's sports experience, resist the immediate urge to identify who's at fault.

Instead, ask:

• What is actually happening here?
• What might my athlete need to learn from this?
• What am I feeling?
• Why is this so difficult for me?
• What part of this belongs to my child?
• What part belongs to the coach?
• And what part belongs to me?

That last question matters.

Sometimes the answer will be: nothing. Sometimes your child genuinely needs your advocacy. Sometimes a coach needs to be challenged. Sometimes an environment is unhealthy.

But if the answer is always somebody else — we should probably get curious.

This Series Is Going to Push

We're going to talk about parental anxiety, control, playing time, blaming coaches, the car ride home, over-advocating, living through our kids, comparison, entitlement, rescuing, our inability to tolerate our child's discomfort, the fear of them falling behind, and the enormous difficulty parents have stepping back as their children become capable of stepping forward.

Some of it may sting. That's okay.

Discomfort isn't the enemy of development.

We tell our kids that all the time. Maybe it's time we believed it ourselves.

This isn't about identifying toxic parents. It's about identifying toxic patterns that loving parents can fall into.

A behavior can be harmful without the person being bad. And once we can see the behavior clearly, we can do something about it.

Maybe This Time, the Development Plan Is Ours

We spend enormous amounts of energy asking: What does my kid need to get better at?

Throughout this series, I'm going to ask you to consider another question:

What does my kid need ME to get better at?

Maybe it's listening. Maybe it's emotional regulation. Maybe it's patience. Maybe it's trusting them. Maybe it's tolerating their disappointment. Maybe it's separating their goals from yours. Maybe it's allowing the coach to coach. Maybe it's letting your child have the difficult conversation. Maybe it's keeping your mouth shut on the ride home. Maybe it's admitting that your fear of them falling behind has been driving the entire family.

Whatever it is — that's the work.

And doing that work doesn't diminish your role as a parent. It strengthens it.

Because one of the greatest advantages we can give a young athlete isn't a parent who can clear every obstacle from the road.

It's a parent who has developed the awareness to know which obstacles to remove, which ones to help navigate, and which ones to get out of the way and let their child climb.

Your athlete is developing.

So are you.

Let's do the work.

Shaun Goodsell

Mental Skills Coach