I still remember lacing up skates and strapping on pads at six years old. Sports became my world, shaping my childhood in unforgettable ways.
From the beginning, I loved everything about hockey and football. They gave me confidence, structure, and a chance to discover who I was becoming.
Games weren’t just games. They were opportunities to connect, to belong, and to experience teamwork in its purest form. For me, that was life-changing.
Locker rooms became a second home. Bus rides to away games, celebrations after wins, and even long practices bonded us. These moments shaped lifelong friendships.
But there was another side. Sports weren’t always fun. Coaches screaming, endless drills 'till you puke, and 5 a.m. practices turned joy into stress. The exhaustion became overwhelming.
That’s the hidden reality for many young athletes. The culture celebrates toughness and endurance but rarely acknowledges the toll constant pressure takes on developing kids.
Cheryl Fernandes, a child psychiatrist who works with young athletes, told me burnout is one of the biggest overlooked issues. “We need to talk about it.”
She’s right. Burnout is real. It’s not just physical fatigue — it’s emotional exhaustion, identity confusion, and a creeping sense that sports become more burden than outlet.
Research supports this. A 2022 Canadian Mental Health Association survey found nearly 40 per cent of student athletes reported significant stress tied directly to sports commitments.
That number matters. Behind every percentage are kids waking up too early, staying up too late, and sacrificing mental health for dreams that often never materialize.
Sports clearly have benefits. They keep kids active, teach resilience, and promote teamwork. But when pressure outweighs joy, the scales tip dangerously against healthy development.
I know because I lived it. Waking up before sunrise, dragging my sore body to practice, I wasn’t motivated — I was scared of letting people down.
Mistakes weren’t teaching opportunities. They were triggers for shouting, punishment laps, or icy stares. At ten years old, failure already felt like the end of the world.
Parents add another layer. Chasing scholarships or pro careers, they forget most kids won’t make it. Dreams turn into expectations, piling more stress on already overwhelmed athletes.
The NCAA says fewer than two per cent of high school athletes play Division I sports. Even fewer make professional leagues. The math just isn’t there.
Still, the culture pretends every game is life-or-death. Kids internalize this pressure until fun disappears. That’s how joy becomes burnout, and passion becomes resentment.
Fernandes believes reframing goals is essential. “Participation should be about joy and growth, not performance alone. Kids need support, not constant judgment.” I think she’s absolutely right.
Looking back, I wouldn’t trade my experiences. But I wonder: how much better would my relationship with sports be if competition wasn’t prioritized above everything else?
What if coaches encouraged fun first? What if mistakes weren’t punished but reframed as part of learning? How many kids would stick with sports longer?
I know teammates who quit, not because they disliked the game, but because the environment broke them. That loss hurts both athletes and the sports community.
Sports should encourage openness, yet they often teach silence. Instead of reaching out for help, kids bottle up struggles, worried they’ll be seen as weak.
Progress is happening. Some leagues now train coaches to focus on mental health. Positive reinforcement is replacing punishment in certain programs. That’s encouraging, but it’s not enough.
Organizations like Kids Help Phone and Canadian Tire’s Jumpstart emphasize inclusion and joy. They’re helping rewrite the culture, reminding people sports are supposed to be fun.
But these approaches aren’t universal. Too many leagues still measure worth in wins and stats. The kids who don’t meet expectations often walk away for good.
We have to ask: what’s the real goal of youth sports? Is it scholarships and trophies? Or is it building healthy, confident, well-rounded young people?
For me, the answer is clear. Sports built me up, but also wore me down. The lessons were valuable, but the toll was heavy.
The challenge now is keeping the best parts — friendship, teamwork, confidence — while shedding the damaging culture of yelling, exhaustion, and unrealistic expectations placed on kids.
Because no six-year-old lacing up skates or strapping on pads should feel the crushing weight of the world before even stepping onto the field or rink.
Sports should inspire, not suffocate. They should build confidence, not break spirits. And they should bring kids together, not drive them apart with constant pressure.
The next generation deserves better. If we rethink the culture, we can protect the joy of sports while reducing the harm. That’s a goal worth chasing.
