Reasons to Avoid Being a Crazy Sports Parent
This parenting gig is tough and sports, while beneficial to life in so many ways, can bring out the worst in us
We were new to field hockey, and by “we” I mean my daughter — who had just joined the JV team as a high school freshman — and my husband and I — who were doing the dropping off and picking up.
We felt happy to do so since our daughter had barely made this no-cut team. It was the perfect opportunity to make friends and exercise some of her freshman angst. I didn’t know a soul at her new high school, so I signed up to help with the scoreboard, thinking it would be a great way to meet the other moms.
When I showed up ten minutes before game time, there was a woman at the table with a clipboard, looking official. “Hi! My name is Lindsey. I volunteered to help with scoring” I said. She was from the opposing team, and surprisingly nice. “You need to get ‘the book’ from your coach,” she said.
Right then a mom bustled up wearing our team’s swag. “Here’s the book. I’ll be right back,” she said.
“Oh, great. Thanks,” I said.
“You need to track the scoring and the substitutions. Every time a player comes out and another goes in, write their number down.”
The tracking area in “the book” had specific areas designated for where different stats would go. “I don’t see a space for tracking subs,” I said.
“Just write it down here in the notes section.” She pointed to the bottom right corner of the page and ran off again.
The game was a revolving door of substitutions. Even if I knew the player, I couldn’t always see the numbers on their jerseys, and I couldn’t keep up because they rotated in and out so quickly.
I looked at the mom from the other team. “I don’t get the point of this,” I said.
“Yeah, our coach doesn’t ask for that info. I don’t know why you’d need it.”
I started to slack off. I could barely tell who scored the goals, and many of the substitutions happened as I was craning to see the scorer’s number. Wasn’t scoring the more important stat anyway? Meanwhile, the busybody kept appearing behind me. “Did you get that sub? 12 just went in for 24.”
“Oh, right. Thanks,” I said and then resumed slacking as soon as she left. As I squinted to catch the numbers on the backs of the jerseys, I was faced with an unfortunate realization — I needed to make an appointment at Costco for an eye exam ASAP.
If this wasn’t a volunteer position, I would have been fired. (And that would have been fine by me.)
Finally, I discovered the truth about Operation Sub Tracking. It turns out the woman who had been directing me was concerned her daughter wasn’t getting enough playing time. She had played boss, gotten her hands on “the book,” and improvised the tracking system so she could prove to the coaches that her daughter was being overlooked and demand more time for her. In her mind, her daughter deserved better. And my tally would determine that.
I had been attending kids' games, both recreational and competitive, in multiple sports for fifteen years. I’d witnessed a range of bad behavior since Tiny Tykes soccer when the kids were four and didn’t even know which goal they were shooting on. In recent years, I’ve seen a group of opposing parents boo a soccer team of twelve-year-olds as they walked off the field after winning a game; I’ve heard a team manager scream at a ref that my ten-year-old was a “f***ing liar” when she collided with her child and drew a foul. I saw a grown man — a parent on the losing team — moon the winning team in his crazed fury. But I’d never been tricked before.
I had a cascade of emotional reactions to this duping, which happened more or less in this order:
- SHOCK. No way, I thought. How could someone be so blatantly dishonest and rope me into their crazy scheme? If she had told me her concern, I would have empathized with her and observed the situation more closely to see if there was some merit to it instead of forcing someone to complete a pointless task.
- ANGER. How dare she rope me into that!
- SELF-HATE: Is my picture next to the word gullible in the dictionary? I mean, jeez. Isn’t it obvious that no coach actually needs that information
- FEAR. “Be careful with that girl,” I told my daughter. “She might be a Looney Tune like her mom.”
- DESPAIR. Is this woman’s bad behavior just that, or is it a reflection of a larger societal beast? Is her fear a symptom of the pervasive cynicism and hostility in our society, which we may not have the capacity to address? Or has this conduct become so normal that we are resigned to it?
- PITY. What happened to this poor woman? She obviously wants the best for her child, how did she get like this?
- EMPATHY. We all want the best for our kids. Have I behaved like this before? Where do I even begin…
I have a few notches in my bad behavior belt. I’ve yelled at referees when they made a call I didn’t like and questioned coaches about playtime. One time, I cheered so loud at a Bad News Bears-esque water polo game that I made my own daughter cry. It’s hard to admit this — I know better! But like all of us, I falter.
This parenting gig is tough and sports, while beneficial to life in so many ways, can bring out the worst in us.
I intend to do better the next time I spectate or volunteer at one of my kids’ games, to be more mindful of the people who make their living (or volunteer!) as referees and coaches, and remember there are many lessons to learn from sports that aren’t related to winning. Even in the closest game with what feels like sky-high stakes, the behavior I model is more consequential than the final score. And to have empathy for those parents who have lost their way, including myself.
Effective immediately, I will set healthy boundaries. Boundary #1: I do not track subs.
Lindsey Salatka is an author, editor, and ghostwriter. Her debut novel, Fish Heads and Duck Skin was released by She Writes Press in July 2021. Her writing has been featured in Shanghai Family Magazine, Urbanatomy: Shanghai, volumes 3, 4, and 5 of Shaking the Tree: Brazen. Short. Memoir, and won a coveted space and performed on stage in the San Diego Memoir Showcase in 2020 and 2021.
She is on the advisory board of the San Diego Writers Festival and is the Director of the KidsWrite! Children’s Writing Contest. You can find Lindsey at www.lindseysalatka.com, on Instagram @mywhatlovelygillsyouhave, on Facebook @fishheadsandduckskin, and on Twitter @lindseysalatka
