SINGAPORE: A Singapore Youth League (SYL) football match made the news last week. Not for a spectacular goal or a breakout young talent. Instead, the headlines came after one parent allegedly assaulted another after an Under-14 game between Geylang International and Albirex Singapore Football Academy on May 11.
According to Albirex, the victim was struck with a metal chair. Photos circulated online show the victim with a streak of blood down his left cheek. The incident had reportedly escalated from verbal taunting to physical aggression, all within view of the children.
Let that sink in. Grown adults, attending a youth football match to support their children, ended up engaging in behaviour more suited to a wrestling ring than a community sports field.
For full disclosure, my son was one of the players in the game. He was subbed off after the first 60 minutes and did not witness the incident.
I too did not witness the altercation, but I’ve seen enough over the years to know that this is not an isolated incident.
We see it in professional leagues - players talking smack, fans hurling insults. But now, it’s bleeding into the sidelines of youth matches.
I get it. Believe me, I’ve been there. I’ve clenched my fists when a bad call went against my child’s team. I’ve muttered frustrations at the referee under my breath. I’ve cheered loudly, maybe too loudly, when we scored. But what happened at the Geylang vs Albirex match was something else. It crossed a line. And it made me reflect - deeply - on the example we’re setting.
Sport inspires emotion. We justify it by calling it “competitive spirit” or “part of the game”. But when insults are hurled at a child, or a parent is mocked from the sidelines, that’s not passion, that’s vitriol.
I’ve seen situations where parents treat football like a personal war. Like they’re defending territory. Like their child’s performance on the field is tied to their own worth.
I’ve watched in disbelief as a coach at a local match shouted to his players, “Kill them! Kill them!”
Are such violent words appropriate at a youth match, or any game for that matter? Children pick up on such hostility. They start sneering at their opponents, refusing to shake hands after a match.
When things get that personal, the game stops being about learning and starts becoming about ego. The idea of sportsmanship becomes secondary to the pursuit of victory.
The SYL, an elite youth football competition under the Unleash The Roar! national project jointly run by SportSG and the Football Association of Singapore (FAS), will likely hold over 4,000 games this year. This will involve over 6,000 young footballers, across 12 age groups.
Meanwhile, the JSSL league, Singapore’s premier youth football league, will hold over 1,600 games.
With multiple matches played every weekend on public fields, incidents of aggressive and inappropriate spectator behaviour are disturbingly common. Match organisers and officials have reported having to deal with fights, racial abuse and threats. There have also been reports of xenophobic remarks directed at players, coaches or fellow spectators.
Sport is meant to teach discipline, teamwork, perseverance and the value of healthy competition - resilience in the face of defeat and grace and empathy in victory.
When the adults lose control, what kind of lessons are we teaching?
But, I’ve also seen what happens when we get it right. I’ve seen teams support each other after tough losses. I’ve seen parents from opposing sides shake hands, laugh and talk about how their kids are growing. That’s what sport should be.
We can’t rely on police officers or referees to fix this. The real change has to come from us - the community that surrounds the game.
If we want to see respect on the field, we need to model it off the field. That means showing up with the right mindset - supportive, not aggressive. It means holding ourselves accountable when we cross a line. It means talking to our kids about sportsmanship just as much as we talk about winning. And it means supporting programmes that encourage positive behaviour, not just punishing bad ones.
The FAS launched the “Respect” programme in 2019 with a strong message: “Respect is earned, not given.” It’s a good message. And its goals - to promote respect and improve behaviour amongst players, officials, spectators and match officials; to reduce abuse of match officials, and to create awareness that everyone has a part to play - are absolutely needed.
But slogans aren’t enough. The truth is, we need to take a long, hard look at ourselves and the culture we’ve built around youth sports.
We often talk about educating players. We spend hours on drills, tactics and development pathways. But how often do we talk about educating the parents?
When I say educating parents, it’s not the kind that lectures or scolds. We need honest conversations with parents. We need workshops or pre-season talks that help us understand the emotional side of sport - why we react the way we do, and what our reactions teach our kids.
We should aim to help parents understand the long-term psychological impact their behaviour can have on children and the overall sporting environment. Using real-world scenarios, like the recent U14 match, could help parents reflect on their own actions.
It’s time we normalised emotional intelligence as a key part of football culture just as much as stamina or strategy.
This is our wake-up call.
Accountability must be shared. Clubs, coaches, match officials and footballing bodies must consistently uphold standards not just for players, but for the entire ecosystem, including fans and family members. Codes of conduct must be enforced not as threats, but as commitments to a better game for everyone.
I don’t want to see another match end in violence. I don’t want my children to think it’s normal for adults to shout obscenities across a pitch or throw chairs when things get heated.
I want them to look back on their football days and remember the joy, the teamwork, and yes, even the losses. Because those lessons last a lifetime.
So let’s do better. Let’s be better. Not just for us - but for them.
Because if we can’t show respect, how can we ever expect our kids to learn it?
Former national swimmer Joscelin Yeo is a four-time Olympian who also won 40 gold medals in the SEA Games during her 17-year swimming career. Yeo, a former Nominated Member of Parliament, is now the co-founder of Into The Wild, which organises wilderness camps for children.
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According to Albirex, the victim was struck with a metal chair. Photos circulated online show the victim with a streak of blood down his left cheek. The incident had reportedly escalated from verbal taunting to physical aggression, all within view of the children.
Let that sink in. Grown adults, attending a youth football match to support their children, ended up engaging in behaviour more suited to a wrestling ring than a community sports field.
CULTURAL ROT
For full disclosure, my son was one of the players in the game. He was subbed off after the first 60 minutes and did not witness the incident.
I too did not witness the altercation, but I’ve seen enough over the years to know that this is not an isolated incident.
We see it in professional leagues - players talking smack, fans hurling insults. But now, it’s bleeding into the sidelines of youth matches.
I get it. Believe me, I’ve been there. I’ve clenched my fists when a bad call went against my child’s team. I’ve muttered frustrations at the referee under my breath. I’ve cheered loudly, maybe too loudly, when we scored. But what happened at the Geylang vs Albirex match was something else. It crossed a line. And it made me reflect - deeply - on the example we’re setting.
Sport inspires emotion. We justify it by calling it “competitive spirit” or “part of the game”. But when insults are hurled at a child, or a parent is mocked from the sidelines, that’s not passion, that’s vitriol.
I’ve seen situations where parents treat football like a personal war. Like they’re defending territory. Like their child’s performance on the field is tied to their own worth.
I’ve watched in disbelief as a coach at a local match shouted to his players, “Kill them! Kill them!”
Are such violent words appropriate at a youth match, or any game for that matter? Children pick up on such hostility. They start sneering at their opponents, refusing to shake hands after a match.
When things get that personal, the game stops being about learning and starts becoming about ego. The idea of sportsmanship becomes secondary to the pursuit of victory.
The SYL, an elite youth football competition under the Unleash The Roar! national project jointly run by SportSG and the Football Association of Singapore (FAS), will likely hold over 4,000 games this year. This will involve over 6,000 young footballers, across 12 age groups.
Meanwhile, the JSSL league, Singapore’s premier youth football league, will hold over 1,600 games.
With multiple matches played every weekend on public fields, incidents of aggressive and inappropriate spectator behaviour are disturbingly common. Match organisers and officials have reported having to deal with fights, racial abuse and threats. There have also been reports of xenophobic remarks directed at players, coaches or fellow spectators.
Sport is meant to teach discipline, teamwork, perseverance and the value of healthy competition - resilience in the face of defeat and grace and empathy in victory.
When the adults lose control, what kind of lessons are we teaching?
Related:
A LONG, HARD LOOK AT OURSELVES
But, I’ve also seen what happens when we get it right. I’ve seen teams support each other after tough losses. I’ve seen parents from opposing sides shake hands, laugh and talk about how their kids are growing. That’s what sport should be.
We can’t rely on police officers or referees to fix this. The real change has to come from us - the community that surrounds the game.
If we want to see respect on the field, we need to model it off the field. That means showing up with the right mindset - supportive, not aggressive. It means holding ourselves accountable when we cross a line. It means talking to our kids about sportsmanship just as much as we talk about winning. And it means supporting programmes that encourage positive behaviour, not just punishing bad ones.
The FAS launched the “Respect” programme in 2019 with a strong message: “Respect is earned, not given.” It’s a good message. And its goals - to promote respect and improve behaviour amongst players, officials, spectators and match officials; to reduce abuse of match officials, and to create awareness that everyone has a part to play - are absolutely needed.
But slogans aren’t enough. The truth is, we need to take a long, hard look at ourselves and the culture we’ve built around youth sports.
We often talk about educating players. We spend hours on drills, tactics and development pathways. But how often do we talk about educating the parents?
Related:
When I say educating parents, it’s not the kind that lectures or scolds. We need honest conversations with parents. We need workshops or pre-season talks that help us understand the emotional side of sport - why we react the way we do, and what our reactions teach our kids.
We should aim to help parents understand the long-term psychological impact their behaviour can have on children and the overall sporting environment. Using real-world scenarios, like the recent U14 match, could help parents reflect on their own actions.
It’s time we normalised emotional intelligence as a key part of football culture just as much as stamina or strategy.
This is our wake-up call.
Accountability must be shared. Clubs, coaches, match officials and footballing bodies must consistently uphold standards not just for players, but for the entire ecosystem, including fans and family members. Codes of conduct must be enforced not as threats, but as commitments to a better game for everyone.
I don’t want to see another match end in violence. I don’t want my children to think it’s normal for adults to shout obscenities across a pitch or throw chairs when things get heated.
I want them to look back on their football days and remember the joy, the teamwork, and yes, even the losses. Because those lessons last a lifetime.
So let’s do better. Let’s be better. Not just for us - but for them.
Because if we can’t show respect, how can we ever expect our kids to learn it?
Former national swimmer Joscelin Yeo is a four-time Olympian who also won 40 gold medals in the SEA Games during her 17-year swimming career. Yeo, a former Nominated Member of Parliament, is now the co-founder of Into The Wild, which organises wilderness camps for children.
Continue reading...