Touchline Truths – A Coach’s Honest Perspective

Introduction – Why I’m Writing This

This blog is a reflection. It comes from my experience over the last few years—three as an assistant coach, and now a year in as head coach. During that time, I’ve learned a lot about players, the game, and myself. But one thing that continues to stand out—and not always in a good way—is the role of parents on the touchline.

Let me be clear: most parents mean well. They care, they want to help, and they want their child to do their best. But the truth is, some of what gets said from the sidelines—whether it’s shouting instructions, questioning decisions, or getting overly emotional—can actually do real damage. I’ve seen kids lose confidence, second-guess themselves, or shut down completely, all because of what they hear coming from behind the white line.

Often, parents don’t see the impact their words have, and when it’s pointed out, they’ll explain why they said what they said—as if the intention somehow cancels out the effect. It doesn’t.

So, I’m writing this to try and shift the conversation. Not to point fingers, but to encourage awareness and responsibility. Because the truth is, every shout, every instruction, every emotional reaction affects more than just your child—it affects the whole team, the coaches, and the game itself.

If we want to help our kids grow, enjoy their football, and feel confident, it starts with us—the adults around them. This is my honest take on what I’ve seen, and a few things I hope we can all think about going forward.

What I’ve Seen

Over the years, I’ve seen all sorts of behaviour from the touchline. Some of it’s been brilliant—parents cheering all the kids, clapping good play no matter the shirt colour, and encouraging their child even after mistakes. But I’ve also seen the other side of it. And I need to talk about that.

One of the biggest issues is the constant stream of instructions from parents. I’ve heard it all:

“Get stuck in!”

“Mark him!”

“Shoot!”

“Go on, win it back!”

And then the classic groan or frustrated “Oh no” when it doesn’t go their way.

What might feel like harmless encouragement can and does have a huge impact. Just this past season, I had one of my players completely overwhelmed. He came off at half-time emotional, angry, frustrated—wound up by the noise, the pressure, and the different instructions flying at him and his teammates. He didn’t know who to listen to: me, his parent, another parent, a teammate... It dominated the whole team talk because I could see how much it was affecting not just him, but the whole group dynamic.

The biggest problem? It takes away a child’s confidence to make their own decisions. If they’re constantly being told what to do—when to pass, when to shoot, where to go—they never learn to think for themselves. They become hesitant, unsure, second-guessing everything. And the truth is, they’re the ones actually in the game. They know what they’re capable of, they can see the pitch, they feel the pressure. They’re in the best position to decide in that moment.

So quite frankly, parents need to zip it.

Support, yes. Encourage, yes. But please—let them think, let them play, let them learn.

And when I see that happening, I’m left with a dilemma. Do I address it directly with the parents and risk changing how they treat me? The fear of alienation is real. I’ve had subtle shifts in tone, distance, and attitude after saying something—not always aggressive, but enough to knock my confidence. I’ve even had kids come up to me unprompted and tell me things they’ve heard their parents say about me or other coaches. That’s a tough one to swallow, especially when all I’m trying to do is help their child enjoy the game and grow.

What the FA Says – and Why It Makes Sense

Now I know some people might roll their eyes when they hear about the FA’s “Respect” campaign. But honestly, when you strip the buzzwords away, the message is simple—and it’s spot on.

The Respect Code of Conduct isn’t about silencing parents or taking away their involvement. It’s about protecting the players and creating an environment where they can actually enjoy the game and grow in it.

Some of the basic guidance includes things like:

·         Applauding effort and good play—from both teams

·         Letting coaches do the coaching

·         Staying behind the designated spectator line

·         Encouraging kids through mistakes, not reacting emotionally

·         And yes, avoiding things like shouting instructions or criticising referees

These aren’t dramatic or over-the-top rules. They just reflect what most coaches and players need—space to play, learn, and figure things out without added pressure.

The kids are already under enough pressure just trying to play well, understand the game, and keep up with expectations. Add in a sideline full of voices shouting different things, and it becomes overwhelming fast.

And for coaches, it can be draining. You’ve spent all week planning a session or thinking through a game plan, and it gets undone in minutes by well-meaning but unhelpful sideline interference.

The FA aren’t trying to take the fun away. They’re trying to keep the focus where it belongs—on the kids. And when I read through their guidance, I can’t help but nod along, because I’ve seen exactly why it’s needed.

The Impact – What It Feels Like for Everyone

This isn’t just about noisy sidelines or kids getting distracted. The impact of sideline behaviour runs deeper than most people realise—and it affects more than just the individual child being shouted at.

For the players, it often creates confusion. I’ve seen it many times: a young player caught between different voices—mine, a parent’s, maybe even a teammate’s—trying to please everyone and ending up frozen. That pressure doesn’t build confidence. It builds hesitation. Over time, it chips away at their ability to trust their own decisions and instincts—something that’s crucial in football and in life.

Worse still, it can take the joy out of the game. I’ve had players go quiet, act out, or just shut down altogether—not because of mistakes they made, but because of the reaction to those mistakes from behind the white line. That’s what hits hardest. We’re trying to build a love for the game, but sometimes that gets lost in the noise.

As for coaches, it’s disheartening. You put in the work to create a learning environment, to build trust, to help kids grow. But when sideline interference takes over, it can undo all of that in minutes. And when you try to address it, it’s a gamble. You risk a change in how parents treat you—less eye contact, subtle digs, coldness. I’ve felt that shift. It doesn’t always come loudly, but it lands heavily. It knocks your confidence and makes an already tough job even tougher.

And I don’t think parents do it to be difficult. Most of it comes from love and passion. But when that passion turns into control—telling kids what to do, how to do it, and reacting emotionally when it goes wrong—it takes away one of the most valuable things a young player can have: the ability to think for themselves.

That’s what this is really about. Letting kids own their decisions, their development, and their enjoyment.

What I Get Wrong – and What I’m Doing About It

This blog isn’t about bashing parents. It’s not a blame game. It’s about awareness—and that applies to me just as much as anyone else.

I’m not a perfect coach. I’ve made mistakes, and I still do. Sometimes I give players too much information and overload them. I get frustrated at persistent disruptive behaviour, especially when I know it’s getting in the way of someone else’s development. I forget things. And yes, there have been times when I’ve given instructions that ended up confusing the kids rather than helping them.

But I’m working on it. I reflect on what I do every single week. I make notes after sessions, I think about conversations I’ve had, and I try to learn from every situation—even the tough ones.

Right now, I’m doing my UEFA C Licence—not for my ego, not to add a title next to my name—but because I want to be better for the kids. I recently read a book called Basic Team Coaching to sharpen my approach and revisit the foundations. I’ll keep doing things like that because I believe coaching, like parenting, is a journey—not a finished product.

And just like I expect the kids to learn and grow, I think we as adults—coaches and parents—have to do the same. If I can commit to improving myself for the good of the team, I think it’s fair to ask parents to do the same. Educate yourself, reflect on your actions, and consider how you’re helping or hindering your child’s experience of the game.

We’re all here for the same reason. Let’s make sure we’re pulling in the same direction.

A Final Thought

None of us get it right all the time—not me, not you, not the kids. But if we can all be honest about that, and open to learning, then we’re on the right path.

Football should be fun. It should be challenging, exciting, even a bit chaotic at times—but above all, it should belong to the kids on the pitch. Let’s do everything we can to give them the space, support, and trust to grow—not just into better players, but into confident young people who make their own decisions.

Thanks for reading. And if any part of this has made you think—even just a little—then it’s been worth writing.