You've heard the comments. Maybe in an email, maybe in the parking lot, maybe in a carefully worded "just curious" question at registration.
"The club across town offers way more tournaments."
"Why are we paying this much when their facilities are nicer?"
"My friend's kid is on a team with a former pro coach. What do we get?"
"I just feel like my child deserves more development opportunities."
These comparisons come from a real place. Parents are investing significant money, time, and emotional energy into their kids' sports experience. They want to know they're making a good choice. And in an era where every program markets itself as elite, developmental, and family-focused all at once, it's hard to tell what you're actually getting.
But here's the problem: when comparisons go unanswered, they don't disappear. They spread. One parent's offhand comment becomes another parent's expectation. A question about tournament frequency becomes a demand. Before long, you're not running the program you designed. You're chasing whatever the loudest voices are asking for.
That's entitlement creep. And it will hollow out your program if you let it.
How Entitlement Creep Happens
Parents today approach youth sports like consumers. That's not a criticism. It's just reality. They're comparison shopping, reading reviews, weighing options. They expect value for money and they're not shy about saying when they don't feel they're getting it.
This consumer mindset isn't inherently bad. It keeps programs accountable. It pushes quality up. It means families won't tolerate genuinely poor experiences.
But it becomes toxic when there's no anchor. When your program hasn't clearly defined what it is, what it values, and what it's trying to accomplish, every parent fills in the blanks with their own expectations. And those expectations are shaped by whatever other programs they've seen, whatever their neighbor told them, whatever they read online.
Without a stated philosophy, your program becomes a blank screen onto which parents project their preferences. And since those preferences vary wildly, you can't possibly satisfy them all. The parent who wants more tournaments is sitting next to the parent who thinks there are already too many. The parent who wants elite coaching is on the same sideline as the parent who just wants their kid to have fun.
When you try to please everyone, you end up pleasing no one. And the parents doing the most comparing get the most influence, simply because they're the ones talking.
The Loudest Voice Problem
In the absence of clear program identity, the loudest parent sets the tone.
They're the one asking pointed questions at the parent meeting. They're the one texting other families with opinions about how things should be run. They're the one whose complaints land in your inbox repeatedly until you start wondering if they have a point.
Here's the thing: sometimes they do have a point. Loud doesn't mean wrong. But loud also doesn't mean representative. The parent demanding more travel tournaments might be speaking for themselves, not for the twenty families who are perfectly happy with the current schedule.
When you make decisions based on who's making the most noise, you're not being responsive. You're being reactive. And reactive programs drift. They add tournaments because someone complained. They upgrade facilities beyond what's sustainable because of competitive pressure. They chase credentials for coaches because a parent said the other program has better ones.
Each change seems reasonable in isolation. But collectively, they pull your program away from whatever it was supposed to be. And ironically, they often don't satisfy the complainers anyway, because the goalposts keep moving.
Define Your Philosophy Before Someone Else Does
The antidote to comparison culture is clarity. When your program has a clearly articulated philosophy, comparisons lose their power.
"That program offers more tournaments." "You're right, they do. We intentionally limit travel because we believe in balanced schedules and local competition at this age level."
"Their facilities are nicer." "They are. We've chosen to invest in coaching development rather than facilities because we believe player growth comes from instruction, not amenities."
"My kid deserves a better coach." "Help me understand what you're looking for. Here's what we prioritize in our coaches and why."
These responses aren't defensive. They're grounded. They acknowledge the comparison, explain your reasoning, and invite further conversation. They work because they come from a clear sense of what your program is trying to accomplish.
If you can't articulate your philosophy in a few sentences, that's your first project. Not a mission statement full of buzzwords. A genuine answer to the question: what are we building here, and why?
What to Actually Put in Writing
Your philosophy should live somewhere families can find it. Website, registration materials, parent handbook, welcome email. The more places it appears, the harder it is for anyone to claim they didn't know.
Include the basics:
What age-appropriate development looks like in your program. At U8, we focus on fun and fundamentals. At U12, we introduce more tactical concepts. At U16, we emphasize competition and player autonomy. Parents comparing your U10 program to a high-pressure travel club need to understand that the difference is intentional, not a deficiency.
Your philosophy on competition and travel. How many tournaments do you offer and why? How far do teams travel? What's the balance between local play and away events? When parents know this upfront, "but they do more tournaments" becomes a values conversation, not a complaint.
Your approach to playing time and team placement. Is playing time equal at younger ages? Does it become more competitive as kids get older? How are teams formed? What can parents expect? The more specific you are, the fewer surprises and grievances later.
What you invest in and what you don't. Maybe you prioritize coaching education over fancy uniforms. Maybe you keep facilities modest to keep fees low. Maybe you focus on community over competition. Whatever your trade-offs are, own them.
When these things are documented, you can point to them. "I understand the comparison. Here's what we do and why." That's a much stronger position than scrambling to justify decisions you never explicitly made.
Handling the Comparison Conversation
When a parent brings a comparison, resist the urge to get defensive or immediately accommodate.
Acknowledge the observation. "You're right, that program does offer more travel opportunities." Validation costs nothing and reduces defensiveness on both sides.
Explain your reasoning. "We've structured our schedule this way because..." Give them the thinking behind the decision. Most parents aren't looking for a fight. They're looking for confidence that someone thought this through.
Invite dialogue without promising change. "Does that make sense for what you're looking for? I'm happy to talk through whether our program is the right fit." This is respectful without being a pushover. You're open to conversation, not capitulation.
Know when to hold the line. Some comparisons are really requests for exceptions. "My kid deserves a better team" often means "move my kid up." You can hear the concern without granting the request. "I understand you want more challenge for your child. Here's how we think about team placement and what options might exist."
The goal isn't to win arguments. It's to demonstrate that your program has a coherent identity and that decisions flow from that identity, not from whoever complained last.
When Comparisons Reveal Real Problems
Not every comparison is entitlement. Sometimes parents are pointing at genuine gaps.
If multiple families are asking about the same thing, that's data. If your coaching quality actually lags behind comparable programs, that's worth examining. If your fees are high relative to what you deliver, that's a strategic question.
The difference is between "we should consider this" and "we should do this because someone complained." The first is responsive leadership. The second is drift.
Use comparisons as input, not direction. Collect the feedback, look for patterns, and make decisions based on your philosophy and your assessment of what's best for the program. Then communicate those decisions clearly, whether or not they align with what the loudest voices were asking for.
The Families You Actually Want
Here's something that's easy to forget when you're fielding complaints: most families aren't comparing. Most families chose your program for reasons they're happy with. Most families aren't emailing you with demands.
When you chase the comparison crowd, you risk alienating the families who liked what you were already doing. You raise fees to fund upgrades they didn't ask for. You add travel that disrupts their schedules. You change the culture they signed up for.
The families you want to keep are the ones who share your values. The families constantly comparing might be better served by the program they keep mentioning. That's not failure. That's fit.
A clear philosophy attracts aligned families and filters out misaligned ones. That filtering is healthy. A program that tries to be everything to everyone ends up being nothing to anyone.
The Long Game
Entitlement creep is slow. It doesn't happen in one conversation. It happens over seasons, as small accommodations accumulate and program identity blurs.
The defense is consistent clarity. Say what you stand for. Write it down. Repeat it often. Make decisions that align with it, even when those decisions disappoint someone. And when comparisons come, respond with confidence rather than anxiety.
You're not running the other program. You're running yours. Make sure everyone knows what that means.
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.
