What Can the 2026 Winter Olympics Teach Parents and Coaches About Supporting Athletes?
- Alyssa Zajdel, PhD
- 2 days ago
- 5 min read
For two weeks, I watched the 2026 Winter Olympics with my heart in my throat.
I’m partial to figure skating, but I watched other sports too. Especially for the skating events, I avoided social media when I couldn’t watch live because I wanted to feel the tension unfold in real time.
A fun part of the Olympics is the coverage of athletes’ families, coaches, and other supporters. These supporters often show visible pride and anxiety in the way their bodies reacted to every jump, landing, score, and celebration. Sometimes, broadcasters even put heart rate monitors on coaches or parents during big competitions. Often, their heart rates are higher than the athletes’!
Watching this on the Olympics made me think of the athletes and parents I work with.
I’ve sat with athletes who carry their parents’ anxiety into competition, sometimes more than their own. Even when parents say, “I just want them to have fun,” subtle cues communicate expectations.
If this feels hard, that makes sense. Loving an athlete means caring deeply about how things turn out. Nerves are a natural byproduct of that love.
And still, one of the greatest supports we can provide is learning to steady ourselves first.
Why Do We Get So Nervous Watching?
If you’ve ever sat in the stands gripping the edge of your seat, you’re not alone.
When you care deeply about an athlete (whether you’re a parent, coach, grandparent, or mentor), their performance feels personal. There’s emotional investment, and sometimes identity overlap. You may have rearranged work schedules, invested financially, driven countless miles, and advocated within systems that weren’t always equitable.
Of course your nervous system reacts!
For many families, especially those navigating financial strain, immigration stress, racial barriers in sport, or limited access to resources, the stakes can feel even higher. Scholarships matter, funding matters, and representation matters.
Love and fear can coexist because you want your athlete to succeed. You want them to be safe, and you want doors to open for them.
That combination can create parent anxiety in sports that shows up physically: tight chest, racing heart, restless thoughts. It’s a human response.
What Athletes Pick Up (Even When You Don’t Say It)
Athletes are incredibly perceptive. Even when you say, “No pressure,” they notice your clenched jaw, your tone shift after a mistake, or the way you analyze the score sheet in the car ride home.
Psychologists call the way nervous systems sync up emotional contagion. Especially in close relationships, athletes can absorb the emotional states of parents and coaches without either person realizing it.
I’ve worked with athletes who say:
“I can tell when my dad is disappointed, even if he says he’s not.”
“My coach says they’re calm, but I can feel their stress.”
“I worry more about letting my mom down than about my own performance.”
Subtle expectation messaging can show up in small ways:
Talking more after wins than losses
Replaying mistakes repeatedly
Shifting mood based on results
Introducing comparisons to other athletes
Even well-intentioned enthusiasm can be interpreted as pressure.
When Outcomes Feel High-Stakes
At the Olympic level, we see how important results can be for medals, funding, and sponsorships. But even at youth or collegiate levels, outcomes can feel significant.
Scholarship opportunities, team placement, club reputation, and social media visibility may all depend on results. For athletes from historically underrepresented communities, success can feel tied to broader narratives about belonging.
And then there’s what no one controls: judging decisions, injuries, politics within organizations, and selection committees.
With all of this, it’s easy to feel powerless as you watch your athlete navigate systems that aren’t fully under their control.
That’s why modeling emotional flexibility matters.
When you can say, “That was frustrating and unfair, and we’ll figure out our next step,” you’re teaching resilience. When you can acknowledge disappointment without spiraling, you’re demonstrating regulation.
Your steadiness becomes a template for your athlete.
The Gift of Regulation
Co-regulation is powerful because athletes borrow calm from the people around them.
Here are practical ways to support athletes without amplifying pressure:
Before competition:
Do your own emotional check-in. On a scale of 1–10, how anxious are you?
Take 3–5 slow, deep exhales to calm your nervous system.
Clarify your intention: “I am here to support, not evaluate.”
During competition:
Notice your body language.
Keep facial expressions neutral and encouraging.
Avoid analyzing mid-event.
After competition:
Lead with connection before correction.
Try: “I love watching you have fun.”
Or: “How are you feeling?”
Pause before offering feedback.
The goal is to manage your own emotions so they don’t become your athlete’s burden.
Loving Them Beyond the Scoreboard
One of the most powerful Olympic moments wasn’t a medal ceremony; it was competitors embracing after results were posted.
It reminded me that relationship outlasts ranking.
Athletes want to be loved no matter what the outcome is.
Separating athlete identity from performance doesn’t mean you stop caring about excellence. It means you consistently communicate that their humanity and your relationship with them is secure.
For many athletes navigating identity complexities (like race, gender identity, disability, socioeconomic barriers), unconditional belonging matters even more.
Takeaways
Here are some key takeaways for parents and coaches:
Your nervous system matters because athletes don’t just hear your words; they feel your emotional state. Regulating yourself is one of the best ways to be supportive.
Anxiety and love often show up together. Feeling nervous means you care, and it’s important to learn how to carry that care without transferring the pressure.
Outcomes are influenced by many factors outside anyone’s control. Judging decisions, injuries, selection committees, and politics within sport are just a few things an athlete can’t control. Modeling emotional flexibility teaches athletes resilience.
Identity should be more important than performance, because athletes are more than their scores. When home and team environments reinforce that truth consistently (not just after losses!), confidence becomes more stable.
Connection comes before correction. After competition, prioritize the relationship. Technical feedback can wait.
Supporting athletes is about creating a steady emotional climate where effort, growth, and humanity can coexist with competitiveness.
Reflection Question:
Before your athlete’s next competition, ask yourself: What emotion am I bringing into this space — and how do I want my athlete to feel when they look at me?
Ready to Support Your Athletes Without Adding Pressure?
Supporting youth athletes is emotional, layered, and deeply human.
If you notice your anxiety rising during competitions, you’re not alone and you’re not failing. With awareness and practical tools, you can become a steady presence your athlete leans into rather than braces against.
At Inside Edge Counseling and Consulting, we work with athletes, parents, and coaches to build emotionally grounded performance environments. If you’re ready to strengthen how you show up in high-stakes moments, we’d love to support you.
Reach out to learn more about parent consultations, workshops, or performance-focused family sessions.
Legal Disclaimer
This blog post is for informational and educational purposes only and is not a substitute for mental health treatment, psychological services, or medical advice. Reading this post does not create a therapist-client relationship. If you are seeking support for your mental health or well-being, consider reaching out to a licensed mental health professional in your area.