Years ago, I sat at a hockey game with all of the other parents, watching the then seven and eight year olds battle it out for a win. That day, Big Guy happened to score a goal.

After the cheers died down, one mother of a boy on my son's team said to another mother, who was also the parent of a boy on the team, "Yes, but he was cherry picking."

Seriously?

Maybe she didn't know that I was sitting right behind her. Maybe she didn't care. But fortunately, the mother who was on the receiving end of the comment had enough sense to say, "A goal is a goal." It prevented me from jumping up from the warm spot I had created and saying something not so nice.

Here's the thing. So he was cherry picking. I'm not denying it. But I also didn't care. He was playing the game. Not me. It's his job to learn how to do it the right way. That's why he's got a coach. It's no one else's place to criticize his performance.

While that's a nice thought in theory, I've come to learn that the competitive world of youth sports doesn't quite work that way.

Welcome to the team. Where children are critiqued by all parents, not just their own. Where mothers and fathers coach from the sidelines and are not shy about criticizing the coaches, at least behind their backs. Where we encourage our kids to play a Saturday recreational soccer game as if it were a tryout for Arsenal or Chelsea.

Granted, the majority of parents are laid back. But even the most well mannered, good intentioned people can transform simply from watching. It's as if some kind of magical sports fairy dust is sprinkled on the bleachers, behind the glass, across the grassy fields and hard courts on game day, making us forget that life will surely go on once the game is over. And even if some of the criticisms are true, all credibility is lost when the talk between parents begins.

I've heard average players being criticized for being average, and goodness if they have a streak of bad games. Surely there was a mistake made when they ended up on the team.

But wait. The really good players fare no better. If they're in a scoring slump, the pressure to get out of it kicks in. Many times, brought on by parents - and not just their own.

On the flip side, the player that consistently scores multiple goals will be scrutinized for not passing.   For hogging the ball.  It may very well be true. But can't we just appreciate that some kids who run around, skate around, swim around and hit around may just be that good? The rest will come with maturity and good coaching. In time, they will learn.

It's not easy to be patient. Calm. Whether we're watching our favorite professional team or our own kids vie for a win, sports brings out passion. And when we invest our time and our dollars, it's personal.

Sure, we want our children to have fun and learn all those wonderful life lessons that come from participating. But who are we kidding? We want to see a little hustle. Smart and respectful play. Maybe even a goal scored.

And that's ok. I admit I'm first in line to tell Big Guy that if we're going to be up at 6:30AM, I expect best effort. I won't hesitate to yell at Little Guy to get control of his body as he sprints up the soccer field with flailing elbows and the occasional cheap slide tackle in an effort to hang onto the ball. I've cringed when I've watched them.  I've even complained about them. But they're mine. I'm allowed.

So let's make a deal. We're watching the same game. I see what you see. So you don't need to talk about my kids. For I assure you, I'll take care of that. And in return, I'll try to take the high road and keep my mouth shut.

And we should all be careful not to inhale too much sports fairy dust. 

Illyse appears Thursdays on TriangleMom2Mom.