Time to go shopping, Reader.
The other day I walked out of the grocery store carrying one of those plastic bags that looks fine on the outside but clearly skipped leg day. I had it packed a little too well, the kind of bag where the handles are doing that white stretch thing that screams they are seconds from giving out. I took a few steps toward my car and felt the bottom start to droop. For a moment I pictured the entire week’s worth of food crashing to the pavement. Grapes rolling everywhere, a jar of pasta sauce committing a dramatic swan dive, and me standing there wondering why I ever thought one bag was enough.
I shifted my grip, hooked a second finger through the handle, and somehow everything held. What felt like an absolute meltdown turned out to be a small wobble that needed a little readjustment.
And it got me thinking...
I have been spending more time in youth sports forums lately, and I am seeing a whole lot of people shouting that the sky is falling. The takes are dramatic. The systems are broken. The athletes are doomed. The parents are worse. The coaches are clueless. The refs are disappearing. The world is ending, and apparently travel ball is the asteroid.
But here is the truth. Things in youth sports are not great, but they are not dire either. The sky is not falling. It is sagging a little like my grocery bag, but the bottom is not about to explode.
We are dealing with a system that needs attention, not burial.
Parents are stressed, but most are trying their best in a world that constantly tells them they are not doing enough. Coaches are overwhelmed, but many are doing what they can with limited time, resources, and support. Athletes are tired, overbooked, pulled in every direction, but still showing up with a desire to grow and be part of something meaningful.
There are problems. There is burnout. There is pressure that does not belong on young shoulders. There is financial strain. There is emotional noise. There are some behaviors that should never happen around kids.
Yet there is also an incredible amount of good. I see it every week.
I see volunteer coaches giving up evenings to teach fundamentals with patience and care. I see parents who sit quietly and simply enjoy watching their kid play. I see athletes lifting each other up after mistakes instead of tearing down. I see administrators trying to balance safety, cost, and accessibility. I see mentors who listen. I see officials who show up because they still believe in the value of the game.
We are not in an apocalypse. We are in a moment where the flaws are simply harder to ignore.
Jonathan Haidt would call it an inflection point. Doug Lemov would call it an opportunity for culture shaping. Chip and Dan Heath would say we are staring at an upstream problem that can only be fixed by addressing the roots, not the symptoms. And Patrick Lencioni would remind us that healthy systems are built through honest conversations and shared responsibility.
We can make youth sports better. We actually have more tools, more insight, and more awareness than ever. The problems feel loud only because we are finally talking about them.
So maybe the point is this. The answer is not panic. It is not quitting the system. It is not burning it all down.
The answer is adjustment. Grip change. A second finger through the handle. Small shifts that keep the whole thing from collapsing.
Talk openly about burnout. Teach kids emotional skills, not just physical ones. Support officials instead of attacking them. Help parents breathe. Help coaches evolve. Protect the joy of the game. Build environments where kids feel safe enough to show who they really are.
Youth sports is not falling apart. It is asking for our help. That is a very different story.
And just like that plastic grocery bag, we can carry far more than we think, as long as we stop screaming that we are moments from catastrophe and start making the small fixes that actually matter.
A few hours after my grocery bag scare, I opened my trunk and noticed something. The bag was still hanging on, but the handles had stretched almost to their limit. It struck me that the bag held up not because it was strong, but because I paid attention in the moment I needed to.
So here is your call to action this week. If you are part of youth sports in any way, take one small moment to notice something that could use a little extra support. A kind word. A calmer response. A small change to a routine. A bit of grace for a kid having a rough day. That one adjustment can keep the whole thing from sagging too far.
The sky is not falling. It just needs us to hold on with intention.