Three Hidden Mistakes Parents Make at Fencing Competitions

Full article in English · Original author text

You’re standing by the strip, wanting to help. So why does the same caring comment sometimes throw your child’s focus off? Parallel coaching, instant analysis, and support that depends on the result are three common mistakes. The fix is a clear role and a conversation at the right time. This article will help you make your presence a source of calm, and a space for decision-making, for your teen. Drawing on my coaching experience in San Francisco, in this piece I talk about the role of the family in supporting a young fencer. For me, the main point is that a teen should have room to make their own decisions alongside your support. A technical note should reach them at the right time and through an agreed channel; a parent’s presence can back up that order.

Who is this article for?

This is for parents of young and teenage fencers in all three weapons, and for coaches who meet with families before competitions. The épée example shouldn’t be applied as-is to foil or sabre. A parent’s job is to provide emotional safety and practical help; by team agreement, responsibility for technical decisions stays with the coach and the athlete.

Mistake one: two voices, two plans

A parent says “attack!” while the coach asks the fencer to check the opponent’s reaction. Now, besides the opponent, the fencer has to choose between two sources of direction. Sometimes they step into a dangerous distance just to please the parent; other times they hesitate over the decision.

Even a technically correct instruction doesn’t help if it comes at the wrong time or goes against the agreed plan. The rules of the competition venue about advice given beside the strip must also be followed. In an épée scenario, the fencer uses small steps to invite the opponent into starting an attack, so they can get a retreat and a good reply. Shouting “Why aren’t you doing anything?” can cut this setup short. A spectator sees only the movement, but doesn’t always know the tactical intention. A better alternative is a supportive phrase agreed on in advance; and even that phrase should be dropped if it distracts your child.

Mistake two: a technical interview at the wrong moment

A string of questions like “Why didn’t you parry? Why did you retreat at the end?” might feel like interest to a parent, but to a tired player it can sound like an interrogation. First, figure out the immediate need: water, a calm space, fixing an equipment problem, or getting ready for the next bout. Analysis is worth doing when the athlete has the capacity to listen and think, and that timing isn’t the same for everyone. I suggest asking: “Do you want to talk now, or later?” If another bout is coming up soon, the conversation should be very short and coordinated with the coach. A deeper review can be set for another time. The details of this split are in the article on reacting after a loss.

Mistake three: conditional support and hidden comparison

Sometimes there’s no direct blame at all, but after a win the parent is chatty and warm, and after a loss goes cold and quiet. A child may conclude that being accepted depends on performance. A line like “Look what your teammate did with less training” also wipes out differences in experience, maturity, and opponent. A better kind of feedback is: “I saw that after that point, you went back to your plan.” That sentence describes a real behavior.

A parent exercise: the three-line agreement

The night before a competition, parent and athlete write down three agreements: who gives technical notes; how the parent behaves during bouts; and when the review of the competition will happen. The child should be able to say what kind of encouragement bothers them. The agreement should be short and revisited before each event, to match their needs. At a club practice, the coach runs a short bout. The parent only watches and writes three objective notes; for example, “attacked after the opponent stepped back,” not “was a coward.” Then the coach asks the player what their goal was. The difference between observation and interpretation becomes clear. This exercise is about the parent learning, not about gaining coaching authority at the strip. After the competition, the family reviews its own performance with three questions: Did we give contradictory instructions? Did we ask permission before talking? Was our supportive behavior predictable after wins and losses? Keep this review about the adults’ behavior; a child shouldn’t be responsible for calming a parent down.

Why does good help sometimes backfire?

You’ve put in time and money to get your child to practice, and it’s natural to want that effort to pay off. When a simple point is lost, staying quiet isn’t easy. But right in that moment, ask yourself: what will the sentence I’m about to say make clearer for them? If the answer is only to let out your own worry, it’s better to hold that sentence for now. Good intentions alone don’t decide how a message lands. A child may hear “just focus” as you being unhappy with them, especially if they hear it after every point they give up. On the other hand, some teens like a short cheer. Instead of guessing, ask before the competition what kind of company helps them. Today’s answer might also differ from last month’s.

From the spectator’s view to the fencer’s logic

In fencing, not moving isn’t always a sign of fear, and moving forward isn’t always a sign of control. A player might use small changes of distance to find out what the opponent reacts to. A spectator sees only the final outcome, but a technical decision depends on information gathered over several earlier exchanges. When a parent who doesn’t know that context gives orders, the player has to choose between their own plan and an adult’s approval. In foil or sabre, the sound of two lights going on isn’t enough to explain a point; the referee looks at the order of actions and the right-of-way rules. It’s better to save technical questions for the right time. Saying “they definitely robbed you” without seeing the whole scene pulls the teen’s attention away from what they can actually fix. If something is worth pursuing, the coach acts through the channel allowed at that event.

Practice the roles before entering the hall

Dividing roles can be very simple: the teen is in charge of preparing a specific part of the gear, the parent handles transport and the agreed practical needs, and the coach handles technical guidance. If the coach has several students, make clear ahead of time when they’ll be available. Their not being beside every bout shouldn’t turn into a crisis in the moment. The teen should know which simple plan to fall back on when the coach isn’t available. Try this role split for a day at the club. The parent only observes, then afterward asks the teen whether their presence was helpful. Listen to the answer without defending yourself. Maybe you’ll need to stand farther back, or show less reaction on your face after a lost point. This feedback is about the quality of your relationship, not an exam to prove whether you’re a good or bad parent.

On the way home, what should we change?

The car isn’t a good place for a debrief; your child can’t step away from the conversation and might still be tired. First, ask about their simple need: silence, water, a familiar snack, or talking? If they bring up the competition themselves, you don’t need to shut the topic down. Listening isn’t the same as analyzing. Let their story finish, then ask whether they want to just be heard or to find a solution together. Say they tell you the opponent was better than them. An instant “No, you’re better than everyone” may be kind, but it denies their experience. You can ask which of the opponent’s moves was hard for them. Then the conversation moves from a general comparison to one specific observation. If they don’t have a clear answer, you don’t need to reach a conclusion that day; the coach can help later.

What if the parent is also the coach?

Having technical knowledge doesn’t automatically solve a role conflict. Before the event, agree on which role you have that day and who makes the final technical decision. If a parent is the official coach of the same athlete, they should separate teaching time from family support time more clearly. A teen shouldn’t feel that every family dinner is a continuation of a training assessment.

At the end of the day, ask yourself three questions: Was I predictable when mistakes happened? Did I respect the technical agreement? Did my child have a chance to share their own view? Pick one of the weaker answers to work on for the next competition. You don’t need to become a perfect parent overnight. It’s enough to change one specific behavior that gives your child more room for focus and independence.

A win isn’t interrogation time either

After a win, too, let the teen enjoy the moment. Saying right away “See, if you’d listened to me you’d have won sooner” turns the success into something the adult owns. Ask them, when they’re ready, to explain the decision that worked. That helps you keep the same balanced support in wins and losses, and keep the value of your relationship separate from what the results table says. At the first competition after this agreement, track just one behavior change; for example, no technical instructions from the parent. After the event, ask about the teen’s experience and talk about whether the change helped. If the agreement needs fixing, make it more precise. The measure of success isn’t forced silence from the parent; it’s clearer roles and fewer conflicting messages for the player. The Positive Coaching Alliance’s guide to sports parenting highlights the separation of family and coach roles [1]. In practice, turn that same line into observable behavior: who gives the technical message, and when and with what words does the parent offer support?

Frequently asked questions

What if the coach isn’t at the strip? Set up a simple backup plan with them before the event. The coach’s absence is no reason to give a bunch of new, untested instructions. Is loud cheering always bad? No; the athlete’s preference, the hall’s conditions, and the rules all matter. The main measure is whether it helps their focus. What if my child asks for analysis themselves? First listen to their view and talk about behavior you can observe. For technical topics, save the question for the coach.

Wrap-up and next step

You now have three concrete tools: one technical voice, the right time for conversation, and support that doesn’t depend on the result. Before the next competition, write the three-line agreement with your child. You don’t need to know the answer to every technical question; you can be confident and effective in the role that helps the most.

Sources and further reading

[1] PCA — The Positive Sports Parent/Caregiver