Youth Soccer and the Illusion of Progress

The rush to join the newest glamorous league often overshadows long-term development.

We live in an era where branding matters more than substance. How you appear is more important than how you act. Original thought is often frowned upon, and authenticity has become the rarest of currencies.

Everywhere I look, companies are climbing over each other to jump on the next trending bandwagon. I wouldn’t mind so much if they genuinely believed in the causes they promote, but most of it reeks of box-ticking. Performative allyship is the currency of the day. It’s far more important to publicly support something than to do something about it.

Take, for example, the company praised for launching a “female empowerment workshop.” Sounds great until you realize it’s a two-hour annual event and that the company still pays women 70 cents on the dollar. But don’t worry, their Instagram post about it had a pink filter and an inspirational quote.

We’ve become children in someone else’s marketing game, and we’re applauding the magicians while they pick our pockets.

Trend-Chasing and the Fear of Individual Thought

Today’s societal compass points in one direction: conformity. Don’t question. Don’t challenge. Don’t dare to be different.

Leadership? It’s the latest villain. Every third post on social media is about how someone in charge has failed. We tear down more than we build. If you want to succeed now, you follow the script; right words, right tone, right hashtags. Speak your mind and risk exile. Ironically, in the name of inclusion and freedom, we’ve created an atmosphere where deviation is dangerous.

That’s frightening because every major human advancement has come from the misfit, the rebel, the brave soul who didn’t think like everyone else. If we choke out originality and brilliance in the name of uniformity, what’s left?

Unchecked power masquerading as moral high ground never ends well.

Soccer’s Mirror: Marketing Over Meaning

This cultural trend is alive and well in youth soccer. Everywhere you look, clubs are racing to outdo each other in political correctness and public virtue. A tiny club in northeast Scotland is now celebrating American Indigenous Peoples Day—why? Because it makes for good optics. The phrase, “we are amazing, just ask us,” comes to mind.

It’s the same energy we saw when Harris and Walz tried to convince us they were longtime gun enthusiasts. Sure, Tim, and you bought that shotgun in Tiananmen Square? Or Trump’s promise to end the Russia–Ukraine war the day he took office. How’s that going for ya, big guy? (Maybe he was going to send Tim over with his shotgun?) In other words, it is all a load of nonsense!

The Youth Soccer Pressure Cooker

The real impact in youth soccer, though, is on the kids. We now have marketing machines running every youth soccer club. Every new league is touted as the elite level. You get a league! You get a league! Everyone gets to be elite!

Coaches are coming down hard on players. There is too much at stake. We need you to train 7 days a week. We need year-round club soccer. You need to learn how to play like a pro. What do you mean your leg is really hurting? WALK IT OFF. Johnny, JOHNNY! You keep going at this rate, and you won’t make it to D1 college. You are acting like a child.  For God’s sake, you will be U-8 next year!

Sound familiar – I thought so. It is easy to point the finger at the coach, but most coaches are under tremendous pressure from parents and Leadership. It is a hard job when your worth as an employee is often tied, wrongly, to uncontrollable.

But are we actually improving?

I don’t think so. In fact, I think we’re going backward. Kids are falling out of love with the game. The dropout rates are rising, and at younger ages. The financial burden on families is staggering. Parents are spending $12,000 per kid to travel across the country for “nationals”... for teams that can’t trap a ball or play a clean 20-yard pass. Let’s be honest and say that kids do not develop to their maximum in tense, unpleasant environments.

What are we doing?

We’ve turned youth soccer into a job for 9-year-olds. And coaches? We’re caught in the madness too. Parents see themselves as investors. They want returns. Coaches feel the heat. If little Johnny turns the ball over too many times, the blame game begins—coach, kid, ref. No one’s happy. Least of all the one group actually playing the game.

Referees are quitting. Kids are quitting. It’s a system where the adults are shouting and the children are suffering. But don’t worry—we’ve got a solution…

A New League!

Next year, we’ll be in ABC Premier Elite instead of CBA Super Select. We are going to leave our rivals behind. The same teams, the same coaches, but everything is better now. Problem solved, right?

Reclaiming the Joy: A Simple Solution

Let the younger kids have fun and stop worrying about winning

The truth is, the fix isn’t flashy, and it’s not profitable. But it works.

Let 9-year-olds play neighborhood vs neighborhood. 5v5, 8v8, whatever fits. Match the numbers of the smallest team. Let them play with their friends. Let them invent games. Let them play until they’re tired. Let them argue, cheer, and try ridiculous tricks.

No coaches screaming. No referees needed. No pressure. Just joy.

And guess what? If they’re playing the kids from two streets over next week, they’ll want to improve. They’ll juggle in the driveway. They’ll kick around after school. They’ll learn to love the ball.

Introduce structure later—age 10 or so. Let local leagues do the job. Keep travel limited until high school, and then travel should still be kept to a minimum for most. Only the top 1% need to roam farther afield. Everyone else? Let them grow at their own pace, in their own town.

That’s how you build a player. And more importantly, that’s how you raise a kid who loves the game. Read this article for tips on being a productive soccer parent.

The Street Game Spirit

Soccer was born in the street. It was never meant to be a business deal or a social media campaign. It was meant to be played anywhere, by anyone.

If we can strip away the nonsense and remember what matters, we can still save it.

But first, we need to ask a straightforward question:

Are we helping kids fall in love with the game, or just selling them the idea of grandeur?

I think we all know the answer to that.