Last summer, my daughter participated in her first organized sport ever — tee-ball. I’m not sure what I expected, but… it was torture. And that's putting it lightly. The games lasted a long, long time, and what made it even worse to watch was my daughter’s skill level. I didn’t realize that it mattered to me at all, but it turns out it's really hard to watch your child be one of the worst kids on the team.
Just writing that makes me sick
My daughter had just turned 6, and it’s not like any of the other kids were much better either. But inevitably, I found myself wincing as she swung so hard at the tee that she did a full 360 and hit the ball coming around a second time.
I groaned as grounders went between her legs, and found myself yelling reminders like, “Run past first base!” from the sidelines. I kept trying to get a video clip of her doing something remotely like tee-ball to put on social media, but ended up not posting anything but still pictures.
When the season ended, I thought I was over it
Kids that were better than her were older, or had older siblings that practiced with them. Besides, lest we forget, it’s 5- to 6-year-old tee ball, for pity’s sake!
This fall, my daughter participated in parks and recreation soccer, and wouldn’t you know it, I started turning into “that” parent at the sporting event — the one who gets way too intense about a child’s game, questions the coach’s decisions, and is desperate for their kid to be the best. You know, the Karen-zilla soccer mom everyone loves to hate!
It’s bad
As the games progress, I often find myself yelling things like, “Get aggressive!” or “Don’t let them get the ball from you!” or, more often, “Pay attention and stop throwing grass!” It actually didn’t help that my daughter was somehow pretty good at soccer, despite never practicing it at home. She’s fast, with long legs, and is pretty coordinated when it comes to kicking. That made me want her to play well all the more — because I knew she could.
“Mom!” she said to me one night after a game. “We lost, but I had fun!”
“I’m glad you had fun,” I said, but followed it up with, “but you need to stay on your feet and keep your eye on the ball. Stop volunteering for goalie — you’re an offensive player.”
As soon as the words left my mouth, I felt awful
In pee-wee sports, playing time is divided evenly instead of awarded based on skill. Yet there was one game where my daughter sat out for two quarters instead of the usual one. Needless to say we got slaughtered out there by the purple team!
“Why is that kid in again?” I muttered to my husband, gesturing to the boy who cried at least once a game and, as far as I could tell, wasn’t sure what a soccer ball even was.
I used to coach 7th grade volleyball, and parents acting like how I’m acting with my daughter’s sports career used to drive me insane. However, I’m almost to the point of understanding it.
I’m not trying to excuse my behavior
Clearly, I need to reframe how I watch my daughter participate in sports. But now, for the first time, I get it: It's human nature to want our children to do their best and, if possible, be the best. It’s a very hard instinct to deny and push away. So until I learn to control it, I’m going to put my lawn chair as far away from the other parents as possible and do my best to keep my big mouth shut.
