Understanding the Sports Parent Psyche

(Notice I Said "Psyche" Not "Psycho")

Let's start with a confession: While I am a parent, coach, and someone who now spends his days thinking about best practices in sports parenting, I once actually charged the field with the intention of hurting someone.

(Wow. It feels great to get that off my chest.)

My Story

Here's what happened. My daughter and her U9 soccer team were shaking hands with their opponents at the end of a tough game when I saw a player from the other team elbow her in the stomach. Before my brain even had time to process what I was seeing, my body was already sprinting across the field.

For the first five milliseconds, I was running with a vengeance—toward a nine-year-old girl. Then, thank goodness, I changed course and charged toward the opposing coach instead. (He was much closer to my 6'3" stature than the kid was.) By the time I reached him—maybe two seconds after the incident—he calmly said, "Coach, I just saw what happened. I'm going to discipline my player for her behavior."

I said, "Thank you," and walked away thinking: What on earth just came over me?

I'd like to tell you that was the last time I felt that surge. That I learned my lesson and became the picture of sideline composure. But here's the truth: even knowing what I know now, even after years of researching this exact phenomenon, I still feel that primal pull sometimes. The difference is that now I understand what's happening inside my body—and that understanding gives me just enough of a pause to make a different choice.

I'm Not the Only One

Years later, while coaching my daughter's team (she was about ten at the time), I watched a similar scene unfold from the other side. One of the girls on my team got knocked down a few times during the game—hard fouls, the kind that make parents wince from the sidelines. Before I knew it, her mom had sprinted off the sideline, onto the field, scooped up her daughter, and came over to yell at me. She cursed at me, told me I wasn't protecting her child.

Now, keeping those girls safe was my number one priority as a coach. I hope she realized that afterward. But in the moment, what struck me wasn't the accusation—it was the question: What was going through that mom's mind that made her come running off that sideline? Why wasn't she able to control her emotions in that moment?

And then I remembered my own sprint across the field a few years earlier. I remembered how little control I had over my legs, how my body seemed to be operating on its own programming. I couldn't judge that mom. I was that mom. Different circumstances, same biology.

That's when I started to dig into the physiology and psychology of sports parents. And what I learned changed how I think about all of us on the sidelines.

The Science Behind the Madness

Dr. Stephen Feldman, a psychologist with years of experience studying sports parents and kids, labeled my charging-the-field moment as "reflexive"—involuntary and automatic, like flinching when something flies toward your face. The same biochemical and neurological mechanisms that make you flinch are the ones that can turn a friendly, warm, level-headed parent into someone capable of saying and doing some pretty shocking things.

Here's what's actually happening: sports parents on the sidelines are often in fight-or-flight mode. Elevated cortisol levels. Stress and emotions running high. Your nervous system doesn't distinguish between "my child is being chased by a predator" and "my child just got fouled hard in a soccer game." To your brain, threat is threat. And when your child is the one in perceived danger, your body responds accordingly.

In those moments, even the most well-intentioned parent—even one who pledged to be on their best behavior—can lose control. Suddenly you're yelling things at the referee that you never thought would come out of your mouth. Suddenly you're sprinting onto the field, completely embarrassing your child, because in that moment it felt like the only thing to do. The logical part of your brain, the part that knows better, gets temporarily overridden by something much older and more powerful.

I know this because I've lived it. And if you've been a sports parent for any length of time, there's a decent chance you have too—or at least you've come close.

Why This Matters

Here's the thing: understanding this doesn't excuse bad behavior. It doesn't give us a free pass to scream at referees or charge at coaches or make our kids want to disappear into the turf. But it does help us extend a little grace—to ourselves and to each other.

That parent who lost it at last week's game? They're not necessarily a bad person. They might be a perfectly lovely human who got hijacked by their own nervous system. That doesn't mean their behavior was okay. It means they're human, and humans are messy, especially when their kids are involved.

The more we understand about why we react the way we do, the better equipped we are to catch ourselves before we do something we'll regret. Awareness creates a gap between stimulus and response. And in that gap, we have a choice.

A Challenge for You

The next time your child gets beat on the field, gets knocked down, or loses the ball to an opponent, see if you can do and say absolutely nothing.

No shouting. No "advice." No running onto the field.

Just breathe. Watch. Trust that your kid can handle it—because they usually can, and they need to learn that they can.

It's harder than it sounds. Your body will want to react. Your heart rate will spike. You might feel your legs tense up, ready to move. Notice all of that. And then... stay put.

It's a true test of self-discipline. And honestly? It's one of the best gifts you can give your young athlete. Because what they need most in those tough moments isn't a parent rushing to their rescue. It's the quiet confidence that comes from knowing someone believes they can handle it on their own.

You've got this. And so do they.