When Performance Becomes the Price of Love

A young child realizes early that sports are a direct line to a parent’s attention. When she performs well, her dad lights up. He brags to others, tells her how proud he is. She soaks it in, craving more of that warmth.

But it’s a two-sided coin: pleasing her parent.

Because as much as a good performance brings them closer, a poor one creates distance. To her young heart, the relationship begins to feel conditional, as if their bond hangs in the balance, depending on how well she plays.

Her father can be generous. He notices small improvements, even in a loss. That kindness can soften the sting of disappointment.

But he can also go quiet. He corrects her harshly on the car ride home. He insists she stay outside and practice extra in the backyard.

She starts to recognize the signs. His embarrassment. His frustration. Sometimes it erupts without warning. Other times, she senses it building while she’s still on the court. She plays not just to win, but to protect herself from what will come if she doesn’t.

Her father sees himself as supportive. From the outside, others probably think so too. But he doesn’t realize he has tied her performance to his identity as a parent. Without meaning to, his "support" becomes a wedge between them and a barrier to her development as an athlete.

It’s a beautiful thing when a child’s success brings a parent joy. But when that joy is used to manage a parent’s emotional needs, when love and approval become tools of control, something breaks.

The relationship.

The love of the game.

Sometimes both.

What if parents chose to delight in their children? Period.
What if a child’s performance measured their progress and not their parent’s worth?

What if… ❤️

This story may sound familiar because it is. Versions of it play out every weekend on courts and fields across the country. As adults, we can rewrite the script. We can bring awareness to the ways our expectations show up and how they land. We can offer connection, not correction, on the car ride home. We can let love lead, whether the scoreboard says win or lose.

Because the real victory is this: our kids walk away knowing they are deeply loved, just as they are.