Protecting Their Childhood: Rethinking Commitment in Youth Sports

I came across a LinkedIn post recently that made me pause. The author laid out a framework for thinking about youth sports, dividing them into two categories: pickup and organized. In their view, the dividing line was attendance, and whether missing a team activity without a clearly justified reason (like a wedding, funeral, or school event) led to consequences. If a player missed a session without consequence, and the absence wasn’t justified by a reason of a “higher order,” then, by their definition, you weren’t running an organized team. You were running pickup.

I’ll admit, part of me understood the frustration behind that argument. Over years of coaching, I’ve felt the same. Watching players miss practices or games for reasons that felt... avoidable? Disrespectful? I’ve been there. And in those moments, it’s easy to fall back on the comfort of firmer standards and clearer consequences.

But the more I thought about it, the more I realized how much I disagree.

Youth sports don’t fit neatly into binary categories such as “pickup versus organized.” They live in a much messier space.

Do I believe commitment should be taught? Absolutely. Does showing up matter? Of course. However, we often underestimate the complexities of family life, personal priorities, and, frankly, the developmental needs of children. Families make choices based on what matters most to them. And as coaches, I don’t think it’s our role to rank those reasons or decide whose absence is “valid enough.”

I’ve seen too many families worrying about repercussions for their child. I’ve seen

No practice, no games, nowhere to be. Just some time to relax in the pool and focus on being a kid.

parents anxious that their kid’s spot on the team, or in the lineup, might hinge on whether they miss one midweek session to attend a family event. And to be honest, I’ve contributed to that anxiety myself. I’ve been that coach. However, that fear leads to exhaustion, burnout, and resentment for both children and parents.

It’s a narrow needle to thread. We must teach accountability and commitment while also protecting the individual needs of each child. We must also recognize that expectations shift. What’s appropriate at U10 isn’t the same as what's appropriate at U18. Yes, as players grow and competition increases, so do the demands. But for many of our youngest athletes, what we’re asking is simply unrealistic.

And even as kids get older, the balancing act doesn’t get easier. I’m a father of two high school players, one of whom has clear aspirations to play at the collegiate level, and I see how stretched their lives are: school, jobs, social lives, and family time (which, honestly, feels like it’s winding down at a pace I never expected). At what point should we draw a hard line? And what are we teaching when we do?

There’s a time and place for strict attendance policies, especially at elite levels. But how, and when, do we define that line?

Even Christian Pulisic, at the height of his youth career, managed to fly home for his senior prom between U.S. national team games. If one of the best players in the country could pause to be a kid, shouldn’t we leave space for the others, too?

Ultimately, I think we’ve been framing youth sports in the wrong way. Accountability,

My oldest son and his teammates. They show up not out of fear of missing out, but because they want to be there together.

teamwork, and commitment aren’t the primary purpose. They’re what grow naturally when we build environments focused on something more profound; when we create spaces where kids have fun first and where they feel connected, challenged, and joyful.

I know kids who’ve missed dances, proms, and once-in-a-lifetime milestones, sometimes because of expectations I set as their coach. At the time, those trade-offs felt like the price of commitment and protecting the integrity of the team. And in many ways, they were.

But if I’m honest, I carry regrets.

Sometimes I wonder if we’re masking too much, normalizing systems that were never really built with healthy childhoods in mind.

The primary purpose of youth sports, especially for the vast majority of kids, including those competing at a high level, should be to lay a foundation for a lifetime of movement, connection, and confidence. To foster a love of being active. A space where friendly competition fuels belonging, and where showing up consistently becomes something they want to do rather than something they’re pressured to do out of fear of consequences.

And yet… if we’re not careful, we can lose sight of that. In the moment, kids don’t always know what they’re missing. Not until they’re looking back. Some may carry regrets. Some won’t. But as someone who’s watched more kids burn out than I care to admit, I think we owe it to them to protect what they don’t yet know they’re losing.

In the end, maybe protecting their childhood is the real commitment we should be honoring, the one that matters long after the practices and games are forgotten.