The Words That Changed Everything
One coach’s unexpected lesson from a fourth grader.
This might run a bit long, but if you ask anyone who knows me—especially my wife and daughter—they’ll tell you I like to hear myself talk. Still, there’s a good basketball story in here, and a message that I believe every parent or coach in youth sports should hear.
So, without further ado, here’s my soapbox for the day.
I’ve been involved in youth sports since my daughter was 4. She’s 21 now. Back when she was younger, I was always coaching—on the sidelines, in the gym, never in the stands. I missed what it was like to be on the “other side of the fence.”
That changed last summer when some health issues sidelined me. For the first time, I watched youth sports purely as a spectator—and what I saw shocked me.
The yelling. The criticism. The pressure adults were placing on kids, many just 7 to 12 years old. It stirred something in me. These aren’t college athletes. They’re still learning the game—and themselves.
I spent that summer and fall thinking, researching, reflecting. By the time our basketball program kicked off, I had a new philosophy and a new favorite phrase (which I shamelessly stole):
“I love to watch you play.”
It might be the best thing a sports parent can say. It’s simple. It’s powerful. And I now encourage every parent in our program—especially those with 3rd–6th grade girls—not to focus on the outcome, but on the effort. On the joy. On the journey. Mistakes are how they learn—not just in basketball, but in life.
Now for the story.
Earlier today, one of our teams had a nail-biter of a game. At halftime, things weren’t looking great—we were down 8–0. (In 4th grade girls’ basketball, that’s a mountain.) But we battled back. Tied it at 8 heading into the fourth quarter. Took a 10–8 lead. The other team tied it again. The tension was real.
At this point, someone should’ve gone live on Facebook—just to film the parents’ faces. The stress levels in that gym could’ve powered a city block.
With 18 seconds left and the score tied, the other team had the ball. But our girls made a steal, raced down the court, and passed it like they’d been practicing for years. One final dish into the post. She squared up, released a perfect shot—and swish.
Game-winner. Lil’ Lady Tigers win.
The gym exploded. Coaches were elated. Players were ecstatic. Parents could finally breathe again—no overtime!
As the team gathered for their post-game huddle, something unforgettable happened.
The girl who made the game-winning shot looked up at her coach and asked:
“Who won?”
Let that sit for a second.
She’d hit the shot that sealed the game. And she didn’t even know.
That moment said everything.
If that simple, sincere question doesn’t tell us—as adults—to chill out a bit, I don’t know what will.
At this age, our kids don’t need pressure. They don’t need perfection. They need freedom to play. To try. To fail. To learn. To enjoy.
We talk to our girls about playing with “No Fear.” Not just in basketball—but in life. No fear of making mistakes. Because when kids know it’s safe to fail, they learn to rise. To keep trying. To get it right, eventually. That’s where the real growth happens.
So whether your child is 7, 17, or 27, remember this:
They’re not just playing sports. They’re playing life.
And they still need to hear, loud and clear:
“I love to watch you play.”
