Your kid just won, and they're glowing. Talking a mile a minute in the backseat. Recapping every play. Life is good.
Fast forward to next weekend. They lose. And it's like someone flipped a switch. Silent car ride. Won't make eye contact. Mumbles "I'm fine" in a tone that means they are absolutely not fine.
You've seen this pattern before. The wins feel too high. The losses feel too low. And somewhere along the way, your kid started believing that how they perform is who they are.
That's a heavier weight than any kid should carry to a Saturday morning game.
How It Starts (And Why It's So Sneaky)
No parent sits their kid down and says "your value as a person depends on your batting average." It doesn't work like that. It builds slowly. A little extra excitement after a win. A quiet car ride after a loss. The way a coach lights up when the team is on top and tightens up when they're not.
Kids are sponges for emotional cues. They pick up on what makes the adults around them proud, stressed, disappointed, or relieved. And over time, they connect the dots: winning equals love, attention, and approval. Losing equals silence, tension, and something that feels a lot like failure.
The scary part? Most kids won't tell you this is happening. They'll just start performing like their emotional survival depends on the scoreboard. Because in their mind, it does.
The Signs You Might Be Missing
This doesn't always look like a kid throwing their equipment after a loss. Sometimes it's subtler than that.
They can't let a mistake go. One error in the first quarter and they're mentally done for the rest of the game. They replay it on the ride home. They bring it up at dinner. A single bad moment becomes the whole story.
They deflect after wins too. You say "great game" and they immediately point out what they did wrong. Even the good days don't feel good enough. That's a kid whose internal bar keeps moving.
They avoid situations where they might fail. They don't want to try a new position. They resist playing up an age group. They'd rather sit out than risk looking bad. When the fear of losing outweighs the fun of playing, something has shifted.
They ask questions that break your heart a little. "Are you mad at me?" after a loss. "Did I embarrass you?" after a bad play. "Do you still want to come to my games?" These aren't random questions. They're a kid checking whether they're still lovable after a bad performance.
What You Say Matters More Than You Think
The post-game car ride is one of the most powerful parenting moments in youth sports, and most of us are winging it.
Here's what helps. Lead with connection, not evaluation. Before you say anything about the game, just be their parent. "Want to grab food?" works. "I love watching you play" works. What doesn't work is launching into what they could've done differently before they've even buckled their seatbelt.
Praise the process, not the outcome. This sounds like something off a motivational poster, but it actually changes the way kids think about themselves over time. "You kept competing even when you were down 3-0" hits differently than "great goal." One tells your kid that effort and resilience are what you value. The other tells them the scoreboard is what caught your eye.
Normalize losing out loud. Talk about your own failures. Not in a lecture-y way. Just casually. "I completely botched a presentation at work today and it was brutal." When kids hear the adults in their life talk about losing without shame, it rewires their understanding of what failure means.
Ask better questions. Swap "did you win?" for "did you have fun?" or "what was the best part?" The questions you ask after a game tell your kid what you care about. If the first thing out of your mouth is about the score, that's the metric they'll measure themselves by.
The Reset Takes Time
You're not going to fix this with one conversation. A kid who has spent months or years tying their identity to their performance isn't going to unlearn that in a single car ride. But you can start shifting the pattern today.
Start by checking your own reactions. Are you more engaged after wins? More quiet after losses? Kids notice that. They notice everything. The most powerful reset often starts with the parent, not the kid.
Then create space for your kid to be more than an athlete. Ask about their friendships on the team. Celebrate the funny moments, not just the highlight reel. Remind them, in ways big and small, that you'd be just as proud of them if they never played another game.
Because the truth is, your kid is going to lose a lot more games than they win. Every athlete does. The ones who thrive long-term are the ones who learned early that a loss is something that happened, not something they are.
Your kid doesn't need to win to be worth something. They already are. Your job is to make sure they know it, especially on the days when the scoreboard says otherwise.
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.
