Six Friends You Find on the Sidelines

Making new friends as an adult isn’t easy. But when your kids play sports, friends are everywhere. You just need to know how to spot them.

The one you wait with when practice runs late

Their kid is on your kid’s team. They smile and make eye contact when they see you at the field each day, and you can’t help but love them—mainly because you know so little about them. Like their name. You didn’t forget, you just don’t care. That’s the beauty of these interactions—conversation topics are gloriously impersonal: traffic, weather, and which piece of their uniform your child lost/ruined/outgrew. A relationship this comfortably shallow means you’ll never have to hear the details of a medical procedure or feel obliged to comment on that haircut, which you only noticed because you see them more than your spouse.

The one whose kid you drive

Out of necessity, this relationship gets deep fast. One minute you’re thinking maybe you know them from somewhere but you’re not sure where. Then, suddenly, they're texting you at midnight to ask if they can bring their kid to your house early tomorrow because their ex’s girlfriend’s kid’s band concert is “apparently more important than their own parental responsibilities,” Proceed with caution. This relationship can be very healthy—life-saving even. Or very maybe-we-should-move-out-of-state.

Note: You rarely see this friend in person, so you won’t recognize them when they park their chair next to yours at a game and start talking like they know everything about you because they kind of do. Remember, you voluntarily opened the gates of your private life to their trojan minivan.

The one on the sideline

Kids’ games work as a natural bonding agent for parent-spectators—like surviving a freak accident together. And whether you prefer the center of the action or self-exile, the person sitting closest to you—five inches or five yards away—automatically becomes your person. Expect to get attached.

The relationship might only ever be reacting to each other’s reactions, but that alone is a huge indicator of compatibility. And even if you never exchange a word with this person, you will become obsessed with finding them at the next game. It’s perfectly normal to scan hopefully for their chair or leave room for them next to yours just in case.

The one who wants to give you their kid

When you agree to bring one of your kid’s teammates with you to an out-of-town tournament, you’ll learn quickly that “Do you have room in your car for one more this weekend?” is code for “Will you put up with my kid’s car sickness, putrid socks, night terrors, fake injuries, and orange-foods-only diet?"

Note: This relationship is not for everyone. Mainly families where children outnumber parents by an order of magnitude. Also, people who lack boundaries.

Another note: Don’t confuse the please-forge-my-signature-on-the-liability-form closeness you have with The One Whose Kid You Drive with this friendship, which is just one expensive document away from legal guardianship.

What’s-their-face

Nothing has to happen to end a friendship. Suddenly your kids aren’t on the same team. You’re not both trekking to the same middle-of-nowhere park three nights a week. Then poof, it’s just…over. Cue the Sarah McLachlan ballad.

Sure, you took turns giving up good parking spots to do the pregame caffeine run. You bonded helping each other figure out the waffle maker in tournament hotels. You loved or hated the same coaches, refs, and parking lots, and have photos of each other’s kids on your phones. But then they switched clubs and you were left with ghostspottings of their minivan at every field. Two years later, when you spot them for real in the shaved ice line at a tournament, you dive into the closest porta-john because you can’t remember their name.

The IRL one

If you’re lucky, you’ll make a friend who is still in your life when your kids are no longer teammates. Or speaking to each other. Or both. Typically, this relationship hangs on by a frayed, broken shoelace for months or years, existing on a meager diet of LOL-this-meme-made-me-think-of-you texts. But if it weathers the lean times, one day in the future when your lives aren’t dictated by sports schedules, you might actually meet for lunch. Or drinks. Or a leisurely Target-run. You’ll make plans and talk about things that have nothing to do with the games you watched, the weather/traffic/coaches you put up with, or the people you both couldn’t stand.

About the Author

In between driving to soccer practices, games, tournaments, and urgent care, Karen Scholl works as a copywriter. She helps businesses figure out what they want to say, but she’d much rather write about parenting kids who play soccer, so others realize they’re not alone on this crazy ride.