Dads & sports: Why do dads yell at their young children?

We've all been in the stands.

We've all felt the collective momentary grief.

We all hate when it happens:

Dads going absolutely ape shit on their child based on a sports performance.

And not just any child: their young child. Think under ten years old.

And not just their overall sports performance: A random game on a Saturday morning.

A game that will be forgotten by the end of next week.

My wife woke up this morning crying.

She had only slept a couple of hours the night before.

She was upset about something that happened after my son's basketball game last night.

On the way out, in the parking lot, we unintentionally (and unfortunately) heard a dad screaming at his second grader for not seeing something in a basketball game.

To make matters worse: this was a second grader on a basketball team of third graders playing against a team of fifth graders in a competitive basketball league.

The son was frantic in his response, "I didn't see it!"

Heartbreaking.

Now I must disclose that my wife and I are both extremely empathetic. It's both of our top strengths on the Strengths Finder test. We know this about ourselves, so we have many self-awareness and self-care tools to guide us toward approaching situations like this.

For many of us who have also been through situations like this as a child, we understand experiences like this will trigger us. At times, it's an inappropriate response to project our experiences onto others.

We aren't God. We aren't sitting in heaven on the throne. That's great news 😂.

It's not my job to take responsibility for the world's problems.

I don't write this blog to rescue the world.

I don't write this blog because I think I can make fathers better.

I like to think I write this blog to rescue that little boy crying out for help.

Maybe one piece of content will change the trajectory of a family.

But I even question that at times.

It may sometimes sound like empty advice, but the best thing we can do is pray.

Grace is an incredible gift, especially when I continue to fall short as a dad.

For example, I need to lose a lot of weight. I'm not living up to the health standard I need to as a Father.

And it’s essential to pause and make this distinction because, as a guy who writes about how to be a better Father or become the father we wish we had, I want to be clear that being a good dad is hard.

We will make mistakes.

Fathers don't need more ridicule. We need more nourishment.

But there's a difference between making mistakes, being made aware of them, owning up to them, and working on getting better - ❤️‍🩹

Versus knowing what you're doing isn't right, ignoring or denying repeated patterns, becoming another sad story in your family bloodline, and creating work for your kids.

In other words, your refusal to slay your giants has been passed onto your children, who must now kill them, so their kids don't have to.

I have two theories as to why dads yell at their kids in a random sports game:

1. They received the best love from their dad when they performed well
2. They are making their kids performance about them

Let me dive into each one.

1. Receiving love based on performance

Many high-performing dads received love as a kid only when they performed well.

This sucks.

Imagine playing a sport for the first time and sucking at it or having some performance issues.

Only to have the person responsible for protecting, providing, and preparing you to speak to you in a way that feels like you're being attacked.

Listen, I'm not advocating for being a lawnmower or helicopter parent.

In many ways, we are too soft on kids and are afraid of seeing them in pain.

And I believe developing grit is essential.

But yelling at kids isn't how to build a strong work ethic in your child or toughen them up.

If you are a father that received love based on your performance, then I want to acknowledge that what you do for your family is fantastic. You protect, provide, and prepare by performing.

It's in your DNA. It's noble. It's something every dad can learn from.

But you and your child are more than your performance.

Your performance is what you do. It isn't who you are.

2. Making your kid's sports performance about you

My son is great at basketball. He wakes up every day and wants to get better. I know he wants to dominate and perform well on the basketball court. My wife and I know that's what makes him happy, so that's what makes us happy. We put him in leagues, practices, training, and scenarios to give his heart what it wants.

Being disappointed or sad by your son missing a shot or not performing up to their best because of what your child wants is a lot different than being disappointed, angry, or downright flying off the handle because you're embarrassed by your child's performance or a people pleaser that cares more about your family's image or what others think than your child's experience.

Listen, the United States is a performance-based society, and businesses need hard skills to turn a profit and serve people. I understand why it's hard for dads to "turn off the performance brain" when they coach or watch their kids' sports games.

On top of that, if you equate performance with receiving love and haven't come to grips with what that means for your health as a dad, that's a recipe for disaster.

Stop making your child's performance about you. You hated when your dad did it to you growing up. And you vowed never to do it to your son. You are a steward of your child's experience, not the controller of it. It's unfair for your child not to be given the opportunity, grace, room, and freedom to try things for the first time.

Sure: you can see what they need to do, what they may need to adjust, or whatever "strategery" is in your head.

But they can't.

Human beings are smart. Sometimes the most intelligent thing we need is silence and space.

Trust your child.

If you're more of a talker, try to err on the side of silence and space.

If you're a dad who doesn't talk a lot, try to speak up a little and say words of encouragement.

Final Thoughts

I saw this quote somewhere online at the end of 2021. And I'm not one for sappy quotes or putting things up on the wall, but when I saw this, I bought this on Amazon:

I know that you love your son. But I want you to know that this quote is absolutely true:

Raise your words, not your voice. It is rain that grows flowers, not thunder.

Your child becoming a great performer, not being lazy, developing grit -

All the things we know children need to develop -

Will not come by screaming at them.

If you're a dad who does this consistently, know there's grace for you. Your child loves you. Repent to God, ask your child for forgiveness, and stop doing it. See a therapist.

Also, take 5 minutes and watch this video.

I'm cheering for you.