Over the past few weeks, a recurring issue has reared its head—tennis parents. Now, before we go any further, it’s common knowledge that tennis parents often bear the brunt of stereotypes: overbearing, intense, living vicariously through their children, etc. Indeed, navigating parenthood is challenging, let alone supporting a child through the demanding journey of individual sports like tennis. However, the crux of the problem isn’t the parents per se, but rather coaches pandering to their whims.
Lately, I’ve heard comments such as, “Oh, you can’t pair them; the parents will make a fuss,” or “Can you ensure they play with orange balls because their parents requested it for a tournament this weekend?” Even remarks like, “I only teach technique to keep the parents at bay,” or “I can’t discipline him for bad behavior; his parents will have my head.” It seems the culture within tennis coaching is no longer player-led, or even coach-led; it’s parent-led.
I fully understand that parents are the financial backbone, covering lessons, travel, and equipment, effectively investing in their child’s future. Yet, this financial investment does not qualify the majority of parents as coaches. Their emotional attachment and the toxic competitive environment among parents often cloud their judgment.
The phrase “I can’t because of the parents” has become all too common and, frankly, it’s wearing thin. Let me be clear: my primary concern is the welfare and development of my player, not the whims of their parents. Parents often hold a skewed perception of coaching, seeing us as authoritative experts tasked solely with improving their child’s performance. This leads to panic, jealousy, and ego-driven challenges to our coaching methods.
Even more challenging are the “I played tennis” or “I am a tennis coach” parents. Despite my experience and qualifications, I still face parents insisting on what I “need to work on.” While I appreciate feedback and believe it comes from a good place, a lack of trust can irreparably damage the coach-player-parent relationship. Unlike most, I’m willing to confront this issue head-on, even if it risks losing a player. After all, a relationship built on mistrust is bound to fail, with the parent’s ego often driving them to seek out another coach who will cater to their desires.
Ego can be destructive. Parents who compare their children to others, make excuses for losses, or become overly involved in tournaments are doing more harm than good. However, I don’t solely blame the parents; coaches bear a significant responsibility. We have the power to shape the culture and attitudes of our players’ parents through clear communication, relationship building, and setting expectations.
Are we defining our coaching philosophy? Are we clarifying roles and responsibilities? Do we educate parents on the psychology of the sport and what truly matters, rather than focusing solely on outcomes like ratings, rankings, and grades? If we find ourselves agreeing with parents out of fear of confrontation or loss of business, then we’re part of the problem.
Bad parents aren’t born; they’re the product of the culture we create. As coaches, it’s our duty to establish a healthy environment that prioritizes the player’s development and well-being above all else.
