You lost a good one last season. Maybe more than one.
They didn't leave because they stopped loving the game. They didn't leave because the kids were difficult. They left because somewhere around mid-season, the job became something they never signed up for. Too many late-night parent texts. Too many decisions they weren't sure they had the authority to make. Too many moments where they felt exposed, unsupported, and completely alone.
And the hardest part? They probably didn't tell you the real reason. They said something about being busy, or needing a break, or family commitments. Because explaining "I felt hung out to dry" is a harder conversation than anyone wants to have.
Coach turnover is one of the most expensive problems in youth sports. Not just financially, though recruiting and training replacements costs real time and money. The deeper cost is continuity. Kids lose mentors. Families lose trust. Programs lose institutional knowledge that took years to build.
Most directors treat this as a recruiting problem. Find better coaches. Cast a wider net. Offer more incentives. But the coaches you're losing often aren't the wrong people. They're good people in roles that were never set up for success.
The Job Nobody Actually Defined
Ask five coaches in your program what their job entails and you'll get five different answers. That's not their fault. It's yours.
Most coaching roles are underspecified from the start. There's a general understanding that coaches run practices and manage games. Beyond that, expectations live in the gray zone. How much time should this take each week? What does "good" look like? Who handles parent communication, and how quickly are coaches expected to respond? What decisions can they make independently, and which ones need to go through you?
When these questions don't have clear answers, coaches fill in the blanks with guesswork. Some overcommit and burn out. Some undercommit and frustrate families. Some make decisions that seem reasonable to them but create problems for the program. And when things go sideways, they feel blamed for violating rules that were never written down.
A clear job description isn't bureaucracy. It's protection. It tells coaches what success looks like so they can aim for it. It tells families what to expect so complaints have context. And it gives you a foundation for feedback conversations that are grounded in shared understanding rather than vague disappointment.
The Decision Rights Nobody Clarified
Playing time philosophy. Roster decisions. Practice structure. Discipline for missed sessions. Communication with parents about player development.
Who decides these things in your program?
If the answer is "it depends" or "coaches have freedom," you've created a trap. Freedom without clarity isn't empowering. It's exposing. Coaches make judgment calls, parents push back, and suddenly a volunteer who wanted to help kids is defending themselves in a conflict they didn't see coming.
Decision rights don't have to be rigid. Different programs have different philosophies, and some flexibility makes sense. But coaches need to know where their authority starts and stops. They need to know which decisions are theirs to make confidently and which ones require consultation. And they need to know you'll back them up when they operate within those boundaries.
When a parent challenges a playing time decision, your coach shouldn't be wondering whether you're going to support them or throw them under the bus. That uncertainty is corrosive. It makes every interaction feel risky, and risk-averse coaches either burn out or check out.
The Communication Free-for-All
Nothing drains coaches faster than feeling like they're on call around the clock.
Text messages at 10 PM about next week's schedule. Emails on Sunday morning asking why their kid didn't start. Sideline conversations that turn into impromptu parent conferences. Social media DMs that expect immediate responses.
Without a communication policy, coaches absorb all of this. They feel obligated to respond because nobody told them they didn't have to. They dread checking their phone because every notification might be another complaint. The role that was supposed to be a few hours a week becomes a part-time job with no boundaries.
A communication policy protects everyone. It tells parents where and when to direct questions. It tells coaches what response times are reasonable. It creates buffer space between families and volunteers who are doing their best but can't be available 24/7.
This isn't about being unresponsive. It's about being sustainable. A coach who answers emails within 48 hours during designated windows will last longer than one who responds instantly until they snap.
The Escalation Path That Doesn't Exist
At some point, every coach encounters a difficult parent. Someone who disagrees aggressively. Someone who makes it personal. Someone who crosses a line.
What happens next?
In too many programs, the answer is nothing. The coach is left to handle it alone, absorb the abuse, or quietly hope the situation resolves itself. They don't know if they're allowed to set boundaries. They don't know if reporting the issue will be taken seriously. They don't know if standing up for themselves will create more problems than staying silent.
This is how you lose good people. Not in a dramatic blowup, but in the slow accumulation of moments where they felt unprotected and unsupported. Each incident chips away at their willingness to come back.
An escalation path doesn't have to be complicated. Coaches need to know who to contact when a parent becomes hostile. They need to know that their concerns will be heard and acted on. And they need to see, at least occasionally, that the program is willing to have hard conversations with families so coaches don't have to carry that weight alone.
When coaches know you have their back, they can tolerate a lot. When they're not sure, even small conflicts feel overwhelming.
What Support Actually Looks Like
Supporting coaches isn't about grand gestures. It's about consistency in the small stuff.
Check in regularly, not just when there's a problem. A five-minute conversation after practice to ask how things are going communicates more than an annual appreciation dinner.
Be reachable when it matters. Coaches don't need you available 24/7, but they need to know that when something urgent comes up, you'll respond.
Defend them publicly, coach them privately. If a parent complains to you about a coach, don't validate the criticism in front of them. Handle feedback through appropriate channels and give coaches the dignity of a direct conversation.
Say thank you, specifically and often. Not generic "great job" messages, but specific acknowledgment of what they're doing well. Coaches are usually volunteers or near-volunteers. Recognition costs nothing and means everything.
Follow through on what you promise. If you say you'll address a parent issue, address it. If you say you'll provide resources, provide them. Broken promises erode trust faster than anything else.
Building the Systems Before You Need Them
The best time to create a job description is before you hire. The best time to clarify decision rights is before a conflict forces the question. The best time to establish a communication policy is before coaches start drowning in messages.
Most programs build these systems reactively, after a coach quits or a conflict explodes. That works, but it's expensive. Every gap in your structure costs you credibility with the people you're asking to show up week after week.
Take an honest look at what your coaches actually have in writing. Not what you've told them verbally. Not what you assume they know. What's documented, clear, and consistently communicated?
If the answer is "not much," you've found your project for the off-season.
They're Not Asking for Much
The coaches who leave aren't usually asking for more money or more recognition, though those things help. They're asking for something simpler: clarity, boundaries, and the knowledge that someone has their back.
They want to know what they're responsible for and what they're not. They want to know which decisions are theirs to make. They want to know that when a parent crosses a line, they won't be left to handle it alone.
These aren't unreasonable expectations. They're the basic conditions for a sustainable volunteer role. And the programs that provide them don't just retain coaches longer. They attract better coaches in the first place, because word gets around about which programs treat their people well.
Your coaches are the backbone of everything you do. The practices, the games, the player development, the culture. When they feel supported, they pour themselves into the role. When they feel exposed, they protect themselves by pulling back.
The question isn't whether you can afford to invest in coach support systems. It's whether you can afford not to.
Ian Goldberg is the CEO of Signature Media and the Editor of the largest and fastest growing sports parenting newsletter. He’s been recognized as an industry expert by the National Alliance for Youth Sports, the US Olympic Committee’s Truesport, and the Aspen Institute's Project Play. Ian is also a suburban NJ sports dad of two teenage daughters and has over 2,000 hours of volunteer time coaching them (which he calls the most fun form of R&D for his newsletter content). Ian and his team provide players, coaches, parents and program directors with the articles and content they need to have a great sports season. Ian has spent most of his career in digital product development and marketing and got his start at the White House where he worked for the economic advisors to two US Presidents.
