From coaches being attacked to firearms being drawn, these parents reveal the ugliest side of children’s football—where sidelines become battlegrounds and the beautiful game turns sour.
“I completely lost it—and punched him back”
André Pereira Leme Lopes, 53, Brazil
When my son was seven, his coach sat all the parents down and stressed how shouting could damage not only our boys’ development as players but as people. That stuck with me, and I’ve always tried to stay calm—maybe the odd complaint to the ref, the occasional curse—but mostly I’ve behaved.
Then came a game where the opposing team fielded over-age players. Tensions boiled over. Managers were yelling, dads were swearing, and my wife, fed up, decided to take our son home—he was our only goalkeeper. As she walked off, some of the other dads began taunting us. One of them even pushed her. Then someone hit me from behind. Instinct took over, and I punched him. Chaos erupted. In the end, both teams were thrown out of the tournament.
“The red mist came down and I ran onto the pitch”
Bryan, 64, Shipston-on-Stour, UK
My son was ten and loved football, though the games were becoming far too intense. One day, he was playing up front and the opposition’s star defender—already warned for dangerous tackles—scythed him down. I saw red and ran onto the pitch, ready to confront the boy. It wasn’t until I was halfway across the field, with other parents shouting at me, that I realised what I was doing.
Luckily, my son wasn’t hurt—just embarrassed by me.
I’ve refereed many of his matches too. Abuse is common. Once, after awarding a free kick when my son was fouled, a dad yelled, “That’s your son, isn’t it, you f***ing cheat.” It’s the only time I’ve seen my son cry on a pitch. All I could say was, “Well done. You’ve made a 10-year-old cry. You must be very proud.”
“Suddenly, parents from both teams pulled out guns”
Robert Weiss, 76, Colorado, US
With decades spent coaching and refereeing, I’ve seen my share of toxic behaviour. But one tournament in Salt Lake City stands out. My granddaughter’s game was disrupted when a player’s mother and her ex-husband started arguing. Then he pulled out an AR-15. Incredibly, other parents responded by drawing their own firearms.
Players and families fled, some climbing fences to escape. Police arrived. Miraculously, no one was hurt—and no charges were filed.
“I’ve been threatened countless times”
Cole Salewicz, London, UK
I run a grassroots team, and I’ve seen it all—parents trading punches, mums and dads going at each other. I’ve even got the footage. I’ve been grabbed and threatened by dads trying to stop matches. It’s relentless. And it’s all over kids’ football.
“I heard a dad say, ‘Break that kid’s leg’”
Giacomo Poma, Parma, Italy
While living in Brussels, I was watching my 10-year-old son play in a school match when a dad near me said to his son, “See their number 8? If you get the chance, go in so hard you break his leg.” That was the end of football for my kids.
“My dad punched the referee”
Emma, Bristol, UK
Back in the ’80s, my dad coached my brother’s under-11s team. Convinced the opposition players were too big to be underage (they weren’t), he punched the ref—and got banned for life.
“They threw rocks at our cars”
Daryll Gregory, Mansfield, UK
As a teenager, I played for Skegby Colts. We were unbeaten, and teams were desperate to end our streak. One match turned ugly—verbal abuse, dirty tackles, chaos on the pitch. After narrowly winning 5–4, we had to flee. Parents from the other team followed us to the car park, hurling rocks at our vehicles as we sped off, drenched, shaken, and terrified.
“The ref gave me a red card”
Mark, Lincoln, UK
My son was about 15, playing a Sunday game in Tadcaster. He scored a clear goal—miles onside—but the ref, with no linesman, ruled it out. I lost it, shouting from the touchline. The ref came over. I kept arguing. He pulled out a red card—for me. I had to leave or he’d abandon the game. Later that day, I found the ref’s number and rang to apologise.
“No dinner if you don’t play better”
A. Haslam, London, UK
I’ve watched my son play since he was little, and while I’ve been lucky enough to avoid actual violence, the atmosphere is often toxic. And it’s not just dads. I once heard a mother scream at her 10-year-old that if he didn’t play better, he wouldn’t get any dinner. Pure emotional abuse. The club said nothing. The kids? Coached to play dirty—pinching, scratching, stamping. They drew the match. I dread to think if the boy got to eat that night.
