What Youth Coaching Looks Like, Beyond Drills and Scores
- Alexandru Ciobanu
- 10 minutes ago
- 19 min read
A necessary frame before moving forward
This article comes from experience, not from a position of authority.
The experience of a former athlete, an involved parent and someone who is present day after day in youth sports, across multiple disciplines.
It is a perspective shaped in gyms, on fields, in the stands, and through real conversations with children, parents, and coaches. Sometimes from good moments, sometimes from uncomfortable ones, but always honest.
What follows is not a manual and not a list of rules. It is a reflection on what youth coaching looks like beyond drills and scores.
The principles shared here are things I would like to see more often in gyms and on training grounds. Many coaches already apply them, even if they don’t necessarily name them this way and this article is also a gesture of recognition for their work.
Because a coach’s influence, especially at the beginning of a child’s journey, goes far beyond results. It shows in how children walk into the gym. In how they react after a mistake. In whether they want to come back.
More often than not, what stays with a child is not the drill they learned, but the relationship in which they learned it.
I. The Foundation: Emotional Safety
(where everything begins)
In youth sports, there is a lot of talk about drills, training plans, and technical progress. Much less about the environment in which all of this takes place.
For a child at the beginning of their journey, training is not just a place to learn skills. It is an emotional space. A place where the child learns whether they are accepted, whether they are allowed to make mistakes, and whether they are allowed to be themselves before being “good.”
Emotional safety does not mean the absence of rules or structure. It means clarity, predictability, and a relationship in which the child knows that their value does not disappear after a mistake.
Without this foundation, methods work only on the surface. Drills are executed, instructions are followed, but the child is not truly engaged. Over time, the difference becomes clear.
That is why, before any system, explanation, or correction, one essential question needs to be asked: what kind of relationship are we building with the children we coach?
1. At the Beginning, the Relationship Matters More Than the Method
(without a relationship, the method becomes execution)
You can have the best training plan.
You can have well-chosen drills, logically structured and adapted to the child’s age.
If the relationship with the child is missing, all that effort stays on the surface.
The child will execute.
They will do what is asked.
They will try not to stand out and not to make mistakes.
But they will not truly grow.
The relationship is the framework in which a child gains courage, the courage to try, to ask questions, to make mistakes, and to come back after them. Without this framework, training turns into a sequence of commands, and progress remains fragile.
In initiation stages and in U10–U14 categories, children do not need perfect coaches. They need present coaches. Adults who observe, who explain without rushing, and who correct without labeling.
A method works when the child feels that the coach is on their side, not above them. When they know they can make mistakes without losing respect or attention.
A child who feels emotionally safe will try more.
A child who tries more will make more mistakes.
And a child who makes mistakes in a healthy environment will progress more.
The relationship does not replace the method. It makes it possible.
If I removed the drills from a training session, what would be left of my relationship with the children?
2. Your Tone Teaches More Than Your Explanation
(children learn emotionally first)
Children do not always remember what you said.
But they remember very clearly how you made them feel when they made a mistake.
For a child, tone of voice is the first filter through which any explanation passes. Before they understand what you said, they feel how you said it. And that “how” can either open or completely shut down their willingness to learn.
A calm tone communicates safety.
An irritated tone communicates pressure.
A raised tone communicates danger.
Even when the message itself is correct, the way it is delivered can change everything.
A good explanation, said with the wrong tone, becomes a negative experience for the child. Over time, the child starts associating mistakes with discomfort instead of learning.
In initiation stages and in U10–U14, children do not yet have the emotional tools adults have. They do not easily separate content from emotion. That is why a coach’s reaction after a mistake often matters more than the drill itself.
Tone does not mean a lack of firmness. It means clarity without humiliation and correction without tension.
A child who feels respected when they make a mistake will have the courage to try again.
A child who feels exposed or judged will try to avoid mistakes, sometimes by avoiding the game altogether.
After a correction, what emotion stays with the child: clarity or fear?
3. When You Raise Your Voice, the Child Doesn’t Hear You Better
(the difference between authority and pressure)
When you raise your voice, the child doesn’t hear you better. They hear you louder.
That difference matters.
Authority calms and clarifies. Pressure creates tension and blocks learning.
For a child, a raised voice does not automatically mean “important message.” Most of the time, it means alert. The body shifts into defense mode and attention moves away from what needs to be done to how to get through the moment.
At that point, the child is no longer listening to understand.
They are listening to protect themselves.
Some children shut down. They become quiet, rigid, invisible.
Others react with opposition, irritability, or disengagement.
Both reactions send the same message: pressure has replaced the relationship.
A raised voice can create short-term obedience. It may “fix” a drill or a behavior for a few minutes. But it rarely creates understanding, ownership, or real progress.
Authority does not come from volume. It comes from consistency, clarity, and presence.
A coach who speaks calmly — even firmly — communicates safety.
A coach who raises their voice often communicates a loss of control, even when the intention is good.
Children need clear boundaries. They also need to feel that they can make mistakes without being emotionally attacked.
When I raise my voice, am I trying to clarify a message or release my own tension?
“But why is it acceptable with professionals?”
It’s a question that comes up often and it’s a fair one.
We see coaches shouting on the sidelines.
We see harsh reactions, constant pressure, sometimes even behavior that looks aggressive. And sometimes, we also see results.
That’s where the confusion appears:
why does this seem “acceptable” in professional sports, but not with children?
The answer isn’t comfortable, but it matters.
Adult athletes already have a formed identity. They have chosen their sport, gone through years of exposure to pressure, developed stronger emotional tools, and — most importantly — they have consent. They know what they are stepping into and they can decide whether to stay or walk away.
Children do not have these things.
A child cannot filter pressure in the same way.
They cannot easily separate the message from the tone.
They cannot say “I don’t want this anymore” without major emotional consequences.
What may act as an external stimulus for an adult can quickly become a threat for a child.
There is another essential point: at high-performance levels, some behaviors may “work” in the short term. But they often come with invisible costs like burnout, injuries, early dropout or a broken relationship with sport.
The difference is not about age as a number. It is about emotional development and the purpose of the stage.
Youth sport is not a smaller version of elite sport. It is a different phase, with different rules and different responsibilities.
When we apply adult-performance methods to children, we don’t accelerate development. We accelerate the break.
Am I trying to develop athletes or replicate models that belong at the end of the journey, not at the beginning?
II. Mistakes: From a Problem to a Tool
In youth sports, mistakes are often treated as problems that need to be fixed quickly, as signs that something “isn’t working” or that someone “isn’t paying attention.”
For a child, however, a mistake is usually a sign of engagement.
It shows that they are trying, exploring and taking a risk, even if they don’t yet have all the answers.
The way a coach responds to mistakes shapes a child’s relationship with effort.
If mistakes are constantly punished, the child will learn to avoid them.
If they are ignored, the child will not learn anything.
If they are understood and used, they become a tool for progress.
At the initiation stage, the difference between children who stay connected to sport and those who drift away often shows up right here. Not in the number of drills, but in the space they have to make mistakes without feeling judged.
At this stage, the coach’s role is not to eliminate mistakes.
It is to turn them into learning experiences.
4. Mistakes Are the First Language of Learning
(children who make mistakes are the ones who are trying)
For a child at the beginning of their journey, a mistake is not a failure. It is a form of communication. It shows what they are trying to understand and what they haven’t mastered yet.
Children who make mistakes often are not necessarily careless or unprepared. Many times, they are the ones who have the courage to try. Who step outside the safe option and experiment, even when the result isn’t immediately correct.
On the other hand, children who make very few mistakes are not always the ones who progress the most. Sometimes they are the ones who choose only safe options, drills they know they can control, simply to avoid negative reactions.
A mistake becomes a problem only when it is treated as guilt.
When every mistake brings tension, the child learns to play “on the edge” and to protect themselves.
Seen correctly, mistakes offer valuable information: where the blockage appears, what isn’t clear, what needs to be explained differently. A mistake is a working tool, not an obstacle.
A coach who understands this will correct without rushing and will look for patterns, not just isolated moments. They will help the child understand what happened, not just what they “did wrong.”
Children who are allowed to make mistakes learn faster.
Children who are punished for mistakes learn how to hide.
After a mistake, what message does the child receive: “try again” or “you failed”?
5. Fear of Mistakes Doesn’t Come from Competition
(it comes from adults’ reactions)
Competition is often blamed for children’s fear of making mistakes, for emotions, blocks or lack of courage. In reality, children are not afraid of competition itself.
They are afraid of what comes after the mistake.
Fear grows from adults’ reactions like from tone of voice, looks, gestures or heavy silences. From moments when a child feels that their mistake disappoints, irritates or puts pressure on the people around them.
For a child, the message doesn’t come only from what is said. It comes from the way the sideline breathes. From how the atmosphere changes after a mistake. From how the coach or the parent reacts.
When a mistake is met with tension, the child quickly learns to avoid it. Not through learning, but through withdrawal. They play safer, less, more timidly or they play only to avoid standing out.
Competition can be a powerful learning context when the child knows that a mistake does not define them. That they can come back without being judged or labeled.
The coach plays a key role here. Their reaction decides whether a mistake becomes a lesson or a threat. Whether the field remains a space for exploration or turns into a space for defense.
Children who are not afraid of mistakes play more freely.
Children who play more freely learn more.
After a mistake, what does my reaction teach the child: to try again or to protect themselves?
6. A Child Is Not Unmotivated
(most of the time, they are confused or insecure)
“Lack of motivation” is one of the easiest labels to apply and one of the hardest to undo. Once it is said, responsibility shifts entirely onto the child.
In reality, children come into sport with a desire to play, to learn, and to belong. When motivation seems to be missing, it is often not about a lack of interest, but about confusion or insecurity.
A child may appear unmotivated when:
they don’t understand what they are supposed to do;
they don’t know what is expected of them;
they are afraid of making mistakes;
they feel that they are “not enough” anyway.
In these situations, withdrawal becomes a form of protection. The child participates less, avoids involvement, or seems “absent”, not because they don’t care, but because they don’t feel safe enough to try.
The coach’s role is to clarify, not to label. To observe the context, not just the behavior.
A repeated explanation, a simplified task or a small sign of encouragement can completely change the dynamic.
Motivation grows where a child feels they can progress without being judged.
Where effort matters, even when results take time.
A child who feels understood regains the desire to engage.
A child who is labeled learns only how to withdraw.
When I say “they’re not motivated,” have I asked myself what might be blocking them?
III. Authority, Discipline and Real Boundaries
Authority is often confused with control.
Discipline with silence.
Boundaries with rigidity.
In reality, children need clear boundaries. They need to know what is allowed, what is not and what happens when those boundaries are crossed. But how those boundaries are built makes the difference between growth and mere compliance.
Healthy authority does not intimidate. It clarifies.
Real discipline does not silence a child. It helps them regulate themselves.
At the initiation stage, children are still learning how to manage emotions, reactions, and frustration. Whether intentionally or not, the coach becomes a model for how rules, mistakes and consequences are handled.
When boundaries are enforced through fear, the child learns to submit.
When they are explained and applied consistently, the child learns self-regulation.
The difference between a respected coach and one children fear does not lie in severity. It lies in consistency and intent.
The next principles start from here.
7. Don’t Confuse Discipline with Obedience
(silence is not always progress)
A group of quiet, lined-up, “well-behaved” children may look disciplined at first glance. In reality, silence does not always tell a story about progress.
Real discipline does not mean the absence of reactions. It means a child’s ability to understand rules, to respect them and to recover when they break them.
Obedience, on the other hand, appears when a child stays silent out of fear. When they avoid asking questions, trying or expressing themselves, simply to avoid drawing attention.
Disciplined children learn self-regulation. Obedient children learn how to hide.
At the initiation stage and in U10–U14, “good behavior” can often mask insecurity or fear of making mistakes. A quiet child is not automatically an engaged child.
The coach’s role is to look beyond appearances. To create an environment where children respect rules because they understand their purpose, not because they fear the consequences.
Healthy discipline allows dialogue, allows mistakes, allows recovery.
A child who feels safe will speak, try and learn.
A child who only obeys will execute, nothing more.
Is the silence I see a sign of understanding or of fear?
8. When You Create Fear, You Get Compliance — Not Growth
(the difference between control and guidance)
Fear is an effective short-term tool. It can stop a behavior, impose order and produce quick results. But it rarely builds anything lasting.
When a child acts out of fear, they don’t learn how to choose. They learn how to avoid — to do “what’s required” so they won’t be scolded, exposed, or punished.
Control works through pressure.
Guidance works through understanding.
A controlled child will follow rules as long as the adult is present.
A guided child will gradually begin to follow them even when no one is watching.
In youth sports, the difference between the two shows over time.
Children raised under rigid control may look disciplined, but they often lack initiative. They wait for instructions, avoid risks, and freeze when situations become unpredictable.
Guidance requires explanation, patience, and consistency. It means saying why before how and accepting that the process may be slower, but far more solid.
Fear can produce silence.
Guidance produces understanding.
A child who understands the rules has the courage to respect them.
A child who fears the rules is only trying not to get caught.
Is the behavior I’m seeing coming from understanding or from fear?
9. A Good Coach Creates Space Not Fear
(the space where a child finds the courage to try)
Children need clear rules, but they also need space.
Space to try, to make mistakes, to ask questions and to come back without fear of being judged.
Fear narrows.
Space opens.
A coach who creates space does not give up authority. They exercise it differently, through presence, consistency and trust in the process.
In an emotionally safe space, a child dares to try new things. They take small risks, explore solutions, and learn from their own experiences. Without this space, a child plays defensively even in sports that require courage.
Space does not mean chaos. It means a clear framework in which the child knows that:
they are allowed to make mistakes;
mistakes do not define them;
effort is valued, even when results take time.
A coach who creates space observes more and controls less. They correct without rushing and give the child time to understand not just to execute.
Children grow when they feel safe enough to try.
Fear creates blockage.
Space creates progress.
Are my athletes playing to explore or to avoid making mistakes?
IV. Real Progress vs. “Visible” Progress
Progress is often measured by what can be seen immediately: results, clean execution, wins or statistics. It is easy to observe and easy to compare.
Real progress, however, does not always look impressive. More often, it is subtle, slow, and hard to quantify. It shows up in the confidence with which a child tries again, in their ability to stay present after a mistake or in their desire to return to training even when things don’t go perfectly.
At the initiation stage and in U10–U14, these forms of progress are essential. They build the foundation on which performance can emerge later. Without them, early results risk being fragile and short-lived.
The coach plays an important role in distinguishing between what looks good in the moment and what truly matters in the long run, between focusing only on what is visible and noticing what is actually being built.
The following principles speak directly to this balance.
10. In the Early Stages, Progress Doesn’t Look Spectacular
(and that’s normal)
In the first years of sport, real progress is often quiet. It doesn’t stand out, doesn’t produce immediate results and doesn’t offer quick rewards. That is precisely why it is so easy to overlook.
Children are learning how to coordinate, how to understand rules, how to manage emotions, and how to relate to a group. All of this is built before technique becomes visible or performance shows up.
Sometimes, progress looks like one less mistake.
Other times, like a calmer reaction after missing a shot or like showing up to training again after a difficult day.
These signs are easy to ignore because they don’t appear in statistics and don’t bring applause. Yet they are fundamental.
The pressure to deliver quick results can create an illusion of progress. The child seems to be advancing, but the foundation is fragile. When the level rises, the lack of fundamentals becomes obvious.
A coach who understands the rhythm of initiation is patient. They don’t rush stages and don’t force performance before the child or young athlete is emotionally and mentally ready.
Progress that doesn’t look spectacular is often the progress that lasts and what lasts is what matters most.
What do I pay closer attention to: what shows immediately or what is being built over time?
11. The Result Says Something About the Score
(it doesn’t say everything about the child)
The score is visible. It is clear, measurable and easy to talk about. At the end of a game, it is often the first reference point.
But the score says very little about the child.
A good result can hide fear, rigidity or exhaustion.
A poor result can hide courage, progress, and real effort.
In youth sports, the score reflects a moment, not a process. It captures what happened on a specific day, in a specific context, influenced by factors that go beyond the child: opponents, emotions, energy levels and maturity.
When the score becomes the main evaluation criterion, children learn to define themselves through results. They feel “good” only when they win and insufficient when they lose.
A coach who looks beyond the score notices other things: involvement, reactions after mistakes, the ability to stay connected to the game. These are the real signs of progress.
The result is information. It is not a label.
Children need to know that their value does not fluctuate with the scoreboard. That effort, work, and the desire to learn still matter even when the score doesn’t look good.
After a game, what do I talk about first with my athletes: the score or what they learned?
12. Children Don’t Need to Be Compared
(comparison shifts attention from the game to evaluation)
Comparison is sometimes used as a motivational tool.
“Look how your teammate does it.”
“See, he can do it.”
“At your age, others were already better.”
In reality, comparison completely changes the framework in which a child learns.
From that moment on, the child is no longer focused on the game. They become focused on how they are being evaluated.
Instead of being present in the drill, they start comparing themselves, positioning themselves, wondering whether they are good enough — whether they are “ahead” or “behind.” The game turns into a continuous test.
Every child develops at their own pace. There are differences in maturity, coordination, confidence and context. Comparison ignores all of this and reduces the child to an informal but constant ranking.
Some children react by trying to keep up at any cost.
Others give up internally, convinced they will never get “there.”
In both cases, the relationship with sport becomes fragile.
A coach who avoids comparison shifts attention to individual progress. To who the child was yesterday and what they can do today. To small, real steps that build confidence over time.
Comparison creates pressure. Observation creates direction.
Children who are seen within their own process stay connected to the game.
Those who are constantly compared learn to play for evaluation not for growth.
Am I helping children compare themselves to others or connect with their own progress?
V. Long-Term Direction
(where the child ends up)
Many decisions in youth sports are made with the present in mind: the next training session, the next game, the next result. That is natural. But a child’s real direction is built from things that are far less visible.
From how they relate to effort.From how they handle mistakes. From whether sport remains a place they want to return to or one they want to escape.
At the initiation stage and in U10–U14, a coach is not shaping only athletic skills. They are shaping a child’s relationship with work, pressure, and their own limits. And that relationship will matter long beyond the field.
Long-term direction does not mean knowing who will become a high-performance athlete. It means creating the conditions in which a child can grow in a healthy way, regardless of where their path eventually leads.
The following principles speak to this wider horizon: to what remains after years of training, not just after a single season.
13. Children Should Not Be “Hardened” Too Early
(discomfort, yes — trauma, no)
Sport involves effort, fatigue and difficult moments. These are part of the process and are necessary for growth. The problem appears when discomfort is confused with forced “hardening.”
Discomfort helps a child grow.
Trauma makes a child defend themselves.
There is a clear difference between challenging a child to step outside their comfort zone and pushing them beyond what they can emotionally handle. That difference matters.
A child who is “hardened” too early learns how to endure, but not necessarily how to understand. They may become tough, closed off, or disconnected from their own emotions. Over time, this often leads either to dropout or to a rigid, unhealthy relationship with sport.
The coach’s role is to dose difficulty.
To introduce progressive challenges, adapted to age and level of maturity.
To notice when a child is tired, frustrated or overwhelmed, not just when they are “not pushing anymore.”
Discomfort comes from effort and perseverance.
Trauma appears when a child feels they are not allowed to say, “this is too much.”
Children who grow in a healthy way through sport learn how to carry difficulty without breaking. That requires discernment not toughness.
Am I challenging the child to grow or forcing them to endure?
14. Initiation Is Not About Selection
(it’s about direction)
Initiation is often treated as a filtering stage.
Who “has it.”
Who doesn’t.
Who picks things up quickly and who falls behind.
In reality, initiation should not be a filter. It should be a space for orientation.
At the beginning of the journey, children don’t come to be selected. They come to discover. To understand what sport means, what effort feels like, how teamwork works, and how to relate to their own bodies. Direction matters far more than a verdict.
Early selection rarely says anything truly relevant about a child’s future.
Most of the time, it says something about their current stage of development which varies greatly from one child to another. Maturity, coordination, confidence, and context align over time, not on command.
A coach who sees initiation as direction creates an environment where children are allowed to develop differently, without premature labels. They give them time to discover themselves and to build a healthy relationship with sport.
Direction means:
teaching a child how to work;
how to respond to mistakes;
how to stay engaged even when they are not in the spotlight.
Some children will move toward performance.
Others will carry the values of sport into other areas of life.
Both paths are valid.
Initiation is not about who stays. It is about what each child takes with them.
Am I trying to choose the “good” kids or help every child find their direction?
15. When a Child Leaves Sport, Something Broke Along the Way
(responsibility is shared, but real)
When a child leaves sport, explanations appear quickly: lack of motivation, other interests, a busy schedule. Sometimes they are true. Other times, they hide something deeper.
Rarely does a child walk away from a sport they love without something having broken along the way.
The coach is not always to blame.
Responsibility is shared, between adults, contexts and expectations, but it is undeniably real.
Most of the time, the break doesn’t come from a single moment. It comes from accumulation: constant pressure, lack of emotional safety, fear of making mistakes, repeated comparisons, or the feeling that there is no longer a place for you.
Children don’t usually leave because of effort. They leave because of emotions they no longer know how to carry.
An attentive coach notices the signs early: withdrawal, lack of engagement, irritability, repeated absences. And understands that sometimes intervention doesn’t mean more training, it means more attention.
The goal of coaching children is not to keep everyone at all costs. It is to create an environment in which a child has a real chance to stay connected, if they choose to.
When a child leaves sport, it is worth asking what could have been done differently, not to look for blame, but to understand the process.
Because every child who stays in sport with joy is a success that never appears on the scoreboard.
What would children say about their experience if they spoke completely honestly?
Final Thoughts
For many children, the coach is the first significant adult outside the family.
The first voice that corrects.
The first authority that sets boundaries.
The first reference point that shows — directly or indirectly — what effort, mistakes, and success look like.
That role carries great responsibility, even when it isn’t always fully recognized. Because over time, children won’t remember every drill, system, or score. What will stay with them is how sport made them feel.
With confidence or with fear.
With the joy of coming back or the urge to withdraw.
With the courage to try or the reflex to avoid mistakes.
A relationship with sport is built over years, not in a single season. And that relationship is shaped decisively by the people who were there at the beginning.
Coaching children does not require perfection. It requires attention, consistency and a willingness to learn alongside them. Direction matters more than every individual decision made in the moment.
If, years later, a child remains connected to sport, to effort and to their own growth, then the coach has done their job, even if the score was not always what they hoped for.
Final Note
Everything you’ve read above is not simple and it is not easy to apply, especially in the middle of a training session, with limited time, pressure, fatigue, and emotions.
It doesn’t come from books either.
It comes from years of lived sport, seen from different angles: as an athlete, as a parent, and as someone consistently present in gyms and on fields. From moments when things went well, and from moments when they didn’t go well at all.
I know what the bench looks like.
I know what a child who stops listening looks like.
I know what a training session looks like when it starts slipping out of control.
And precisely because of that, the principles above are not about perfect solutions. They are about direction. About small, repeated choices that slowly change the atmosphere, the relationship and the way children stay connected to sport.
If it were easy, everyone would be doing it. The fact that it’s hard doesn’t mean it isn’t worth it.
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