The Battles Were Never Theirs to Fight.

I've been hearing a lot lately about the ugliness surrounding youth sports.

The fighting, the politics, the parents, the coaches, the accusations, the drama, and every time I hear another story, I find myself thinking about something I wrote in my book, Fluent in Everyone Else.

Children becoming collateral damage in adult conflicts. I wish I could say I was writing about something I had only heard about. Something I had witnessed from a distance or read about on social media, but I'm not. I've lived it, I've watched it unfold right in front of me, and I've watched innocent children, my children, pay the price for the choices of grown adults

There was a time when I thought the worst thing about youth sports was an overly competitive parent yelling from the stands🙄; I was wrong 🤣. The worst thing about youth sports isn't always the parent screaming from the bleachers; sometimes it's the parent smiling at you from across the field or worse, sitting next to you in the stands. The parent who shakes your hand, tells you how wonderful your child is, the one who talks about teamwork, character, and doing what's best for the kids. And then, behind closed doors, does everything possible to make sure their child gets ahead, regardless of whose child gets pushed aside.

Not physically pushed, of course.

🤔Although I sometimes wonder how far some people would go. I remember joking with a family member years ago about someone who was so competitive that we could practically picture her sticking out her foot to trip another child in a race just so her own child or grandchild could cross the finish line first. We laughed about it, but the older I get, the less funny that image becomes. Because I've realized there really are adults who would metaphorically trip another child if it meant theirs could win. And sometimes, they don't even seem ashamed of it.

When Winning Becomes More Important Than Character

I've watched grown adults manipulate situations, spread false narratives, twist conversations, and protect their own reputations at the expense of someone else's.

I've seen situations where people who played a role in creating a problem somehow managed to walk away looking innocent, while other families carried the blame. And I've watched the consequences reach children who had absolutely nothing to do with the conflict.....Think about that for a moment. A child who simply wants to play a sport suddenly finds themselves caught in the middle of something they don't understand. An opportunity disappears, friendship changes, a coach treats them differently, a family they once trusted becomes distant. And why?

BECAUSE an adult couldn't put their pride aside.

BECAUSE somebody needed control.

BECAUSE somebody wanted their child to be the star.

And apparently, the easiest way to make their child shine was to dim the light of someone else's. But if you have to tear another child down to elevate your own, what have you actually accomplished?

The Parents Who Have to Control Everything

There's another part of youth sports that I've struggled to understand. The adults who cannot simply be parents. They have to coach, manage, influence every decision, every roster, every position, and every opportunity. YOU KNOW THE TYPE!!!!

Now, let me be clear: there are incredible parent-coaches out there. People who sacrifice their time, money, and energy to help children develop a love for the game. Those people deserve appreciation, but that's not who I'm talking about. I'm talking about the adults who cannot tolerate someone else being in control.

The ones whose involvement seems less about teaching children and more about controlling outcomes. The ones who need to determine where their child plays, how often their child plays, and who might stand in their way.

And I have to wonder: At what point does supporting your child's dreams become living out your own ambitions through them? At what point does being involved become an obsession with control? And perhaps most importantly, what happens to the children who aren't fortunate enough to have a parent controlling the decisions?

Because those children matter, too. Their dreams, confidence, and hard work matter. And their childhood should not become the price of someone else's ambition.

What Are We Actually Teaching Our Children?

This is the part I cannot get past. We tell our children that sports teach discipline, integrity, teamwork, perseverance, and respect. We tell them to work hard, earn their place, be good teammates, and win with humility and lose with grace. But then some adults demonstrate the exact opposite. They teach their children that connections matter more than effort, that manipulation can get them further than hard work, and when something doesn't go their way, the answer is to find someone to blame; that winning matters more than honesty; and that other people are expendable when they stand between you and something you want.

We cannot spend years teaching children about character and then expect them not to notice when we abandon our own. Children are watching. They're watching how we treat other families, how we speak about coaches, how we handle disappointment, how we respond when another child succeeds, and they're learning from it. Not necessarily the lessons we intended.

The Children Who Never Asked to Be Involved

In my book, I wrote about how painful it is to watch children become collateral damage in adult conflicts, and I still believe that is one of the hardest parts of parenting. Because I can handle someone disliking me. I can handle someone questioning my intentions, disagreeing with me, or deciding they don't want a relationship with me. I'm an adult; I can handle those things 🤣.

But watching a child suffer because adults cannot behave like adults? That's different. Watching a child lose something they worked for because someone else manipulated a situation? That's different. Watching a child question their own abilities or worth because of decisions that had nothing to do with their talent or effort? That's a kind of hurt that stays with a parent. And what breaks my heart is knowing that this is not isolated to one sport, one community, or one team. It happens everywhere.

I wonder how many children have walked away from something they once loved, not because they weren't good enough, but because the adults made it unbearable. How many kids stopped believing in themselves? How many lost friendships? How many learned far too young that the people who talk the loudest about character don't always demonstrate it?

Your Child's Success Shouldn't Require Another Child's Failure

Of course I want my children to succeed. I want them to work hard, develop their talents, earn opportunities, and experience the incredible feeling of accomplishing something they once thought was impossible. But I don't want success handed to them because I manipulated the circumstances.

I don't want them celebrated because someone else was unfairly pushed aside.

And I certainly don't want them growing into adults who believe they are entitled to something simply because their parent knew how to work the system. Because someday, the uniforms come off, the seasons end, the trophies collect dust, and the child who was once the star of a youth sports team becomes an adult who has to navigate a world where Mom and Dad cannot always control the outcome.

What have we prepared them for then?

Have we taught them to persevere? Or have we taught them that someone else will always clear the path?

Have we taught them to be honest? Or have we shown them that a convincing lie can be more useful than an uncomfortable truth?

Have we taught them to celebrate other people's success? Or have we conditioned them to view every other talented child as a threat?

I think those questions deserve far more attention than who's starting this weekend.

Long After the Final Whistle

I hope the children who have been hurt by these situations find their way through them. I hope they eventually understand that the actions of selfish adults were never a reflection of their worth. I hope they keep playing, keep dreaming, and keep pursuing the things they love. And I hope the children whose parents have manipulated their way into opportunities eventually learn that genuine success doesn't require stepping on someone else. Because the greatest tragedy in all of this may not be the games that were lost or the opportunities that were taken, but perhaps it's the lessons we taught children while convincing ourselves we were doing it all for them.

Maybe it's time we stop asking what we're willing to do to help our children win and start asking what kind of people we're raising in the process.

Because if your child has to stand on the broken confidence, stolen opportunities, or damaged reputation of another child to reach the top, that's not success.....That's collateral damage. And NO child should have to pay that price for an adult's pride.

When Telling the Truth Makes You the Problem

There's something I've learned about speaking the truth that I wish I hadn't learned through my children....Not everyone wants to hear it. And sometimes, the person willing to say what everyone else is whispering becomes the person everyone blames.

I've never been particularly good at pretending I don't see what's happening. I don't have much of a filter, and I've never understood why we should sit quietly while people manipulate situations, spread false narratives, or deliberately hurt others. Has that gotten me into trouble? 🤣Absolutely. Have I always handled things perfectly? 🫣Not even close.

My husband and I have made mistakes. We've involved ourselves in situations we probably should have walked away from. We've trusted people we shouldn't have trusted. We've joined forces with people who convinced us we were fighting the same battle, only to discover that we were being used to fight theirs. And somehow, when everything fell apart, we were the ones left carrying the reputation.

The difficult parents.

The troublemakers.

The ones creating drama.

Except there's one problem with that version of the story: the problems existed long before we became involved. The conversations happened, complaints were made, situations were already unfolding, and in some instances, the evidence told a very different story from the one people were willing to believe. But here's what I've discovered. People don't always believe the truth. Sometimes they believe the person who makes believing them the most convenient. And when you're the person willing to confront something uncomfortable, you quickly discover how few people are willing to stand beside you.

What hurts the most isn't necessarily what people think about me; again, I'm an adult; I can defend myself. I can admit when I've made mistakes, and I can live with someone not liking me. But my child? My child never asked to inherit my conflicts. And there have been moments when I've genuinely questioned whether my willingness to be transparent and speak out has cost my child opportunities, relationships, or experiences they otherwise might have had. That's a difficult thing for a parent to carry, because we teach our children to tell the truth, to stand up for what's right, and to refuse to follow the crowd when the crowd is wrong. But what happens when they watch us do exactly that and then see us suffer for it? What lesson are they learning? That honesty matters? Or that honesty comes with consequences nobody is willing to protect them from?

The Silence That Allows It to Continue

And then there are the parents who know. The ones who have witnessed the behavior. The ones who have heard the conversations. The ones who privately acknowledge that something isn't right. But publicly? Silence. Because they "don't want the drama." "They don't want to get involved." "They don't want to jeopardize their child's position on the team or their relationship with the people making decisions." And I understand the fear; I really do.

When you've seen what can happen to the family that speaks up, staying quiet can feel like the safest option, but I struggle with what that silence allows.

Because when someone is manipulating a situation, and everyone around them refuses to challenge it, what incentive do they have to stop? And what happens when the child being affected isn't yours?

It's easy to stay out of something when your own child is still getting opportunities.

It's easy to say, "I don't want to be involved," when you're not the one being talked about. It's easy to dismiss someone as dramatic when speaking up might cost you something. But here's the question I wish more parents would ask themselves.

If this were happening to your child, would you still want everyone else to stay quiet?

I'm not suggesting every parent needs to insert themselves into every disagreement; not every complaint is justified. Not every coaching decision is unfair, and not every disagreement deserves a public confrontation.

But there's a difference between refusing to participate in drama and refusing to acknowledge wrongdoing. There's a difference between protecting your peace and protecting a system that hurts children. And there's certainly a difference between remaining neutral because you don't know the facts and remaining silent because the truth is inconvenient.

What troubles me even more are the parents who form opinions about other families without ever speaking to them. They hear one version of a story, they accept it, they repeat it, and suddenly, a family they once knew becomes a family they avoid. Not because of anything they've personally experienced but because someone else told them what to believe. At some point, silence stops being neutral when it consistently protects the person causing the harm. And the children are the ones who live with the consequences.

When the People Pulling the Strings Become the Victims

Perhaps one of the most frustrating things I've witnessed in youth sports is how quickly the narrative can change when someone is confronted. A parent complains behind closed doors; they stir up frustration, they question decisions, they recruit other parents into conversations and encourage people to take sides, they convince others that something needs to be done, and then someone finally speaks up. Suddenly, the person who was encouraged to confront the problem becomes the problem. The original complaints disappear, the conversations are forgotten, and the very people who helped create the conflict somehow become innocent bystanders or worse, victims.

I've watched versions of this play out more times than I care to count.

And I have to wonder how many other families have found themselves in the same position. Used as a voice for someone else's grievances, only to be abandoned when the consequences arrive. It's an interesting thing to watch someone influence a situation behind the scenes and then publicly distance themselves from the very conflict they helped create. But what I find even more troubling is how easily people accept the rewritten version. Sometimes, years pass before someone finally acknowledges what happened. Two years, three years, and then comes the conversation. "I see it now." "I should have listened." "I chose the wrong side." And while I can appreciate someone recognizing their mistakes, I often wonder whether they understand what those years cost.

An apology two years later doesn't give a child back the season they lost. It doesn't erase the friendships that changed. It doesn't undo the reputation a family was forced to carry. And it certainly doesn't return the childhood experiences that can never be repeated. The truth eventually coming to light doesn't mean the damage disappears with it. That's the part I wish more adults understood.

What If We Took the Parents Out of the Equation?

Here's something I've thought about often.....

What if we took every child who wanted to play a sport and removed everything that identified them?

No last names.

No family connections.

No money.

No reputations.

No parent standing behind them with influence.

No knowledge of who their father is, who their mother knows, or what organization they've been associated with.

Just children.

Same shirts. Same opportunities. Same expectations.

🤔What would happen? Who would earn the positions? Who would receive the opportunities? Who would stand out because of their abilities, their work ethic, their attitude, and their willingness to learn?

Now, I'm not naive enough to believe that every child is equally talented or that every athlete deserves the same playing time; that's not how competitive sports work. And I'm certainly not suggesting that a child earning an opportunity over another child is inherently unfair. Competition is part of sports, disappointment is part of sports, learning that someone else may be better than you at something is part of growing up. But deliberate manipulation? Deception? Retaliation? Using relationships and influence to control outcomes that should be determined by the children's abilities and development? That's something entirely different.

Connections aren't inherently bad; relationships are part of life, and there's nothing wrong with people helping one another. But when those connections become a way to bypass fairness or punish another family, we've lost sight of who youth sports are supposed to serve. If we removed the parents' names, money, connections, and influence, would the same children still be standing in the same places?

I think that's a question worth asking. And perhaps an even bigger question is why some adults would be so uncomfortable finding out.

Reflection

I think one of the hardest lessons I've had to learn is that being right doesn't always mean being believed, and telling the truth doesn't always mean justice will follow.

Sometimes the people who caused the damage walk away untouched, while those who spoke up are left carrying the consequences, but I also have to look inward.

Have I allowed my own frustration to influence how I've responded? Have I fought battles that God never intended for me to fight? Have I become so determined to expose what is wrong that I've forgotten to trust Him with what I cannot control?

Those are uncomfortable questions, but they're necessary ones. Because I don't want my children learning that the answer to someone else's wrongdoing is to become consumed by proving them wrong. I want them to understand that integrity isn't determined by whether someone believes you. Character isn't measured by popularity, and doing what is right doesn't always come with an immediate reward.

I also want them to know that standing up for what is right matters, even when it's difficult, but wisdom matters, too. Knowing when to speak, when to walk away, and when to leave something in God's hands may be one of the greatest lessons I can teach them, and perhaps that's the challenge for all of us as parents.

Are we raising children who know how to win, or are we raising children who know how to live with integrity? Because someday, nobody will remember the batting averages, the starting lineups, the most rushing yards, the best three-point shooter, or who made the team. But our children will remember how we treated people. They'll remember whether we stood for what was right, whether we showed grace when it was difficult, and whether our pride mattered more than their peace.

Our children should never have to heal from the battles we were too wounded, too prideful, or too afraid to handle ourselves.

Prayer

Heavenly Father,

I come to You with a heart that has carried frustration, disappointment, and, at times, anger over things I cannot change.

You know the truth of every situation, even the parts that have been hidden, twisted, or misunderstood. You know the conversations that took place behind closed doors, the intentions of every heart, and the children who have been hurt along the way.

Lord, help me remember that I do not have to fight every battle to prove what You already know. Give me the wisdom to recognize when to speak and the humility to recognize when to be silent. Help me stand firmly in truth without allowing bitterness to take root in my heart.

And Father, where I have made mistakes, show me. Where my pride has gotten in the way, humble me. Where my words have caused hurt, help me make it right.

I pray for the parents who have allowed their own insecurities, ambitions, and desire for recognition to overshadow the innocence of children. Open their eyes to the example they are setting and the damage they may be leaving behind.

I pray for the parents who are afraid to speak. Give them courage when courage is needed, discernment when situations are unclear, and compassion for families who are hurting.

And most of all, Lord, I pray for the children.

For the child who was overlooked.

For the child who was unfairly blamed.

For the child whose confidence was shaken.

For the child who lost an opportunity, a friendship, or a love for something they once enjoyed.

Remind them that their worth was never determined by a coach, a roster, a position, or another parent's opinion. Protect their hearts from the wounds we adults sometimes create.

And help us remember that these children belong to You before they ever belonged to us. May we raise them to be people of character rather than simply people of accomplishment. May we teach them that truth matters, kindness matters, and integrity matters, even when nobody is watching.

And when the final game has been played, may the legacy we leave our children be something far greater than a trophy.

Let it be a childhood they didn't have to recover from.

In Jesus' name,

Amen.