You can see it from the bleachers. She's a step ahead of everyone out there, and she knows it. The passes she doesn't bother making anymore. The jog back on defense instead of the sprint. Your kid isn't struggling. She's coasting. And coasting kids quietly leave.
Hi, I'm Sammy.
Welcome to the Hey Sammy Podcast. Every day I read one question from a real sports parent and answer it like a friend would. Today, the best player on the team and why that's not always good news.
This one's from Tammy in Minneapolis. She writes, "My daughter is the best player on her team, but her coach won't move her up. She's bored and I can see her checking out."
What now?
Tammy, first, you're right to take this seriously. People hear, "my kid's too good for her team," and roll their eyes. Let them roll. Boredom is how talented kids leave sports. Not injuries, not losing. Boredom. A kid who's never stretched stops feeling the point of showing up. So this is a real problem.
Now let's make sure we solve the right one. Start with the coach, but change the question. Don't ask, "why won't you move her up?" That question has a wall around it, and you'll hit it every time. Ask, "what's your plan for her development this season?" Then go quiet and listen.
A good coach lights up at that question. Maybe there are age rules or roster politics you can't see. Maybe he has a plan he's never said out loud. But if he blinks at you, that silence is your answer.
And I'll say the uncomfortable part for you. Sometimes a coach keeps a star down because she wins him games. That's his interest. It isn't hers. You're allowed to notice the difference. If that's what this turns out to be, don't fight it head-on. Quietly line up your options for the offseason instead. Midseason club wars only ever have one casualty, and she's wearing your last name.
Meanwhile, challenge doesn't only come from moving up a level. Ask her coach for harder jobs inside the team she's on. New position. Weak foot, offhand, the skills she avoids because she doesn't have to. Guarding the other team's best kid every game. And the hardest job in sports—making her teammates better. Being the best somewhere teaches things being average somewhere else never will. How to lead.
How to carry a group when it counts. Those show up years later, in places that aren't gyms.
But there's one conversation that comes before all of it. Hers. Ask her what bored actually means, because kids use it as a cover word. Sometimes bored means unchallenged. Sometimes bored means my friends got weird, or practice stopped being fun.
And check yourself gently here. Checking out is what a kid does when the ambition around her stopped being hers. Make sure the fire you're protecting is the one in her, not the one in the bleachers.
If she wants more, fight for more. A new club in the offseason is a fair fight, and it isn't disloyal. But let her tell you first. And while all this gets sorted, guard one thing at home. Don't let the dinner table turn into a scouting report.
When club talk and level talk take over a house, the game shrinks into a career. The move-up will come or it won't. But her loving the ball? That part you can protect tonight. Keep some of the sport silly. Shoot around in the driveway with zero coaching attached. The great ones I've watched grow up all had one thing in common. Somebody in their house kept the game a game the whole way through. Be that somebody, whatever the club decides.
Try this. Ask her one question. What would make practice fun again? And don't suggest a single answer. Just listen.
Do a question or comment. Email me, hey@heysammie.com.
