It starts the night before. He goes quiet at dinner. By morning, his stomach hurts. And it’s not an act. Your kid is in the bathroom getting sick. Over a game. And a grown man just told him to toughen up. Hi, I'm Sammi.
Welcome to the Hey Sammi Podcast. Every day I read one question from a real sports parent and answer it like a friend would.
Today, the kid who gets sick before games. And the adults getting it wrong. This one's from Mike in Philadelphia. He writes, my son gets incredible anxiety before every game, like physically sick. His coaches tell him to toughen up. Is this just nerves or is something else going on? Mike, let's draw the line your coaches can't.
Nerves are normal. Butterflies, chatter, needing the bathroom, um, twice before warm-ups? That's a body getting ready to compete, and it actually helps. But what you're describing crossed that line a while ago.
Physically sick, every game, on a schedule. That's not butterflies. That's a kid whose alarm system is going off, hard, over and over. And toughen up? Toughen up is not a treatment plan. It's what adults say when a kid's feelings make them uncomfortable.
Telling an anxious kid to toughen up is like telling a drowning kid to swim better. He would if he could. So now he's anxious and ashamed of being anxious. The coaches just doubled his load.
So what's the alarm about? Almost never the game itself. Ask anxious young athletes what they're afraid of, and losing is way down the list. It's letting people down. It's being watched while failing.
It's everyone's faces after a mistake. Which means the fix isn't more reps or more toughness. It's shrinking what a mistake costs him. And a lot of that cost lives in us.
So take a quiet inventory of what surrounds his games. The pep talk that's really pressure with a smile on it. The post-game breakdown in the car. Even asking, are you nervous, with a worried face tells him there's something to be nervous about.
Try 5 boring minutes instead. Same breakfast, same music, zero talk about outcomes. Boring is medicine for an anxious kid. I do a version of this before my own big work days. Same playlist, same coffee, no rehearsing in the mirror.
Bodies calm down when the routine says nothing special is happening. There's one more trap, and the most loving dads fall into it hardest. Don't start managing his anxiety out loud.
Checking in every hour on game day, asking how his stomach feels at breakfast with that face. A worried parent hovering over an anxious kid is gasoline dressed up as water. He reads your worry as confirmation that something's wrong with him.
So the game face you need isn't tough, it's relaxed. Borrow it from how you act before his dentist appointments. Calm, a little bored. We do this all the time. And after games, especially rough ones, keep the ride home light.
He spent the whole morning dreading that car. Prove it wrong.
And Mike, one more thing, and I say it with care. If it's this physical and this regular, bring your pediatrician into the loop. Not because something is wrong with him. Because a kid working this hard deserves a pro in his corner, and there are people who are great at exactly this. That's not overreacting. It's what you do for a limp that showed up every game day.
His stomach deserves the same respect as his ankle. And if he ever needs a season off, that's allowed too. The sport should fit the kid, not the other way around.
One more thing about those coaches. You don't have to win an argument about psychology with them. Just quietly refuse to let their voice become the loudest one he hears. Yours is closer. Use it.
This week, try this. Before his next game, ask him, What's the worst part of the waiting? Then just listen.
Have a question or comment? Email me, hey@heysammy.com.
