If you’ve ever had a kid in sports, you already know…
There are two games.
There’s the one on the field.
And then there’s the one that happens in the car on the way home.
Now, I’ve been around sports long enough to see just about every version of that car ride.
The quiet one.
The one where nobody says a word because everyone already knows how the game went – win or loss. The player is staring out the window, replaying every great play or mistake in their head. The parent is gripping the steering wheel, trying to decide whether to say something… or nothing at all. The silence says everything.
Then there’s the opposite version.
The play-by-play breakdown. More common after a bad game than a good one. It goes something like this…
“Well, if you would have just—”
“You’ve got to remember next time—”
“That umpire missed that call, but still—”
And somewhere in the middle of all that talking (or maybe yelling), the game somehow keeps going long after it ended.
I’ll be honest — I’ve absolutely been on both sides of that car ride at some point – as an athlete as well as a parent. Probably really more times than I would like to admit.
Because when you care, it’s hard not to say something.
You want to help. You want to fix it. You want to make sure next time goes better.
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But here’s what I’ve learned, both from my own experience and from watching a whole lot of kids walk off fields lately…
Most of the time, they already know.
They know they missed the shot.
They know they struck out.
They know they could have done better — and they wish they had.
What they don’t always know is this:
Are they still okay in your eyes?
That car ride home has a way of answering that question, whether we realize it or not.
I’ve seen kids bounce into the parking lot after a tough loss because their parent met them with a smile and a “Hey, I loved watching you play.”
And I’ve seen kids carry a game with them a lot longer than they should because the ride home turned into a critique session.
Now, I’m not saying there’s never a time to teach. There absolutely is. I’m definitely competitive, and the urge to dissect every moment — every play, every success or failure — is real.
But timing matters.
Because right after the game? That’s not always when kids need instruction. Sometimes they just need space. Sometimes they need you.
And sometimes they just need to know that no matter what happened on that field…
They’re still your kid first and an athlete second. From an athlete perspective, I can guarantee you that your kid is harder on themselves than you could ever dream of being. Because if your kid is a competitor, they’re already chasing perfection — and if the game didn’t go their way, they’re probably six rounds deep in a mental sparring match with themselves before they even get to the car. (Speaking from experience here!)
One of the best pieces of advice I’ve ever heard is this:
Wait. (I know…it’s so hard…but trust me)
Wait until they bring it up, because they will.
Wait until they ask, again, because they will!
Wait until the emotions settle and they’re ready to hear it.
Because when that moment comes, they’ll actually listen.
And in the rare case where it doesn’t (but trust me… it will)?
That might tell you everything you need to know too.
The truth is, youth sports aren’t just shaping what happens on the field.
They’re shaping confidence. Identity. How kids handle success and failure.
And believe it or not, a lot of that shaping happens in a car.
In between the field and the front door.
In those few minutes when the game is over, but the experience is still fresh.
So the next time you find yourself in that car ride home…
Before you break down the game or offer advice or replay every moment…
Just pause.
And maybe start with something simple.
“I love watching you play.”
Because years from now, they may not remember the score.
But they’ll remember that ride home.
And that’s how the ball really bounces.
Read more from How the Ball Bounces with Bekka in the archives at www.mysaline.com/bounces.
About the author: Bekka Wilkerson is a lifelong lover of all things sports. Raised in a super athletic household it was no surprise when she too began to love sports at a young age. It seems like from the time she could walk she had a softball bat in her hands, but her true athletic passion came from all things Basketball. That love served her well as a Bryant High School Lady Hornet and ultimately earned her a full scholarship to play at the University of Central Arkansas – among many other adventures.
These days Bekka can be found running around Saline County with her husband, Speedy, or chasing one of her grandsons. She is also the Executive Director of The EMpact One Foundation, a Saline County Nonprofit Organization that helps young people stay connected to extracurricular activities through tuition assistance and equipment provisions.
Reach out to Bekka with questions and/or ideas about things you want to see in this column at [email protected] and learn more about The EMpact One Foundation at www.empactone.org.
