You didn't sign up to answer the same question fourteen times a week. And yet here you are, fielding texts about practice schedules that were already in the email, explaining refund policies that are posted on the website, and clarifying playing time expectations that were covered at the parent meeting nobody remembers attending.
It's exhausting. And the worst part? It feels like a "you" problem. Like if you were just more organized, or more patient, or sent better emails, this would stop.
It won't. Because this isn't a personal failing. It's a systems failure. And until you fix the system, you're going to keep playing help desk while your actual job piles up.
The Real Cost of Scattered Communication
Most programs don't have a communication strategy. They have a communication pile. Email for some things. Texts for urgent stuff. An app that half the families downloaded. A Facebook group that's somehow become the official source for game-day updates. Maybe a website that hasn't been touched since registration opened.
Families aren't ignoring you. They're lost. They don't know where to look, so they ask. Or worse, they guess. Or even worse, they assume the worst and get angry.
This shows up in three predictable ways.
First, endless "where do I find..." questions. Practice schedules. Snack assignments. Picture day details. Uniform pickup info. Families ask because they genuinely don't know where to look, and every question that hits your inbox is time you're not spending on something else.
Second, conflicts that escalate faster than they should. Playing time disputes. Role confusion. Refund requests that feel adversarial. Policy disagreements that turn personal. Most of these aren't bad-faith complaints. They're the result of unclear expectations meeting stressed-out parents. When families don't know what to expect, they fill in the blanks with anxiety.
Third, families who quietly disappear. They don't complain. They don't send angry emails. They just don't come back. The season felt chaotic. Communication felt like a scavenger hunt. Nobody told them what was happening until it was already happening. So they found a program that felt easier.
None of this is dramatic. It's all just friction, accumulating slowly until it becomes attrition.
The Expectation Gap Is Doing More Damage Than You Think
Here's a question worth sitting with: do your families actually know what to expect from your program?
Not the stuff in the handbook nobody reads. The real stuff. What happens if my kid doesn't get as much playing time as I hoped? What's the actual policy when we miss a game for a family event? How do I raise a concern without feeling like I'm being "that parent"?
Most programs assume families absorb this information through osmosis. They don't. They show up with a mix of past experiences, assumptions from other programs, and anxieties they're too embarrassed to voice. When reality doesn't match expectations, you get conflict.
The fix isn't writing longer handbooks. It's saying the quiet stuff out loud, early, in plain language, and then repeating it at predictable intervals throughout the season.
"Here's what playing time looks like at this level and why." "Here's how to communicate concerns in a way that actually gets heard." "Here's what we can and can't be flexible on, and here's why."
Families don't need you to have all the answers. They need you to be clear about the ones you do have.
One Source of Truth (And It's Not Your Phone)
The single biggest communication upgrade you can make is choosing one place where information lives and ruthlessly directing families there.
This doesn't mean you stop using email or texts. It means those channels point somewhere. "Full details are on the portal." "Check the calendar on the app." "Everything you need is in the parent hub."
When families know where to look, they stop asking. When they stop asking, your inbox shrinks. When your inbox shrinks, you get hours back.
The format matters less than the consistency. A shared Google doc can work. A simple website page can work. A well-organized app can work. What doesn't work is switching systems mid-season or maintaining three places that say slightly different things.
Pick one. Commit to it. Train your families to trust it.
Repeating Yourself Is Part of the Job
This one stings a little, but it's true: even with a perfect system, you're going to repeat yourself. Families are busy. They miss things. They forget things. They skim instead of reading.
The programs that communicate well aren't the ones who send information once and expect it to stick. They're the ones who build repetition into the rhythm of the season.
Expectations at registration. Expectations at the parent meeting. A mid-season refresher. A pre-playoff reminder. The same core messages, surfaced at moments when families are actually paying attention.
This isn't nagging. It's leadership. You're not repeating yourself because families are careless. You're repeating yourself because that's how information actually gets absorbed.
Make It Easy to Do the Right Thing
Most parent frustrations aren't about policy. They're about friction. The refund policy is probably fine. The way families have to request one might not be.
When communication feels like a maze, families get frustrated before they even get to the issue. When it feels clear and simple, they approach problems differently. Same family, same concern, completely different tone.
Look at your most common conflicts and ask: is this a policy problem or a friction problem? Are families upset about the rule, or are they upset about how hard it was to find the rule, understand it, and act on it?
Sometimes the answer is a better policy. More often, the answer is a clearer path.
What Families Actually Want
Parents aren't asking for perfection. They're asking for three things.
They want to know where to look. One place, clearly labeled, reliably updated.
They want to know what to expect. Playing time. Costs. Communication norms. Policies for the stuff that always comes up.
They want to feel like someone's paying attention. A quick acknowledgment when they reach out. A heads-up before things change. A sense that the program is organized, even when things get hectic.
That's it. Clear systems, clear expectations, clear responsiveness. When those three things are in place, families give you grace. When they're not, every small issue feels bigger than it is.
The Retention Connection
Families who feel informed stay longer. Families who feel confused leave quietly.
You'll never know how many families you lost because communication was scattered or expectations were unclear. They won't tell you. They'll just register somewhere else next year and tell their friends the season "felt stressful."
The programs that retain families aren't necessarily the ones with the best coaching or the nicest facilities. They're the ones that feel easy to be part of. Clear communication is how you build that feeling.
It's not soft stuff. It's the infrastructure that everything else depends on.
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.
