The end of a New York City summer brings a cherished tradition for many families: a visit to the US Open at the Billie Jean King Tennis Center in Queens. This year, my son made his first trip with me. The energy was electric, the athleticism dazzling, and the atmosphere, grand and celebratory, felt like a fitting close to the season.
What struck us most at the Open wasn’t the velocity of serves or the elegance of rallies; it was the behavior of many of the juniors on court. We clapped, cheered, and offered simple encouragement—”great point,” “you’ve got this.” More than once, however, we were met with a glare, a shake of the head, or the kind of blank dismissal that makes you wish you hadn’t spoken at all.
Not every player behaved this way. Some smiled, nodded, or even said “thank you.” But enough responded with coldness that it was jarring. Watching teenagers under pressure shut out even the most basic gestures of goodwill left us unsettled. It also raised a broader question: What kinds of habits are young athletes learning, and how might those habits shape their lives beyond the court?
Tennis is famously unforgiving. In juniors, coaching is restricted, there are no teammates, and no timeouts. Teenagers are left to shoulder the weight of long matches, sometimes with rankings, scholarships, or professional aspirations hanging in the balance. The margin for error is tiny; matches and careers can turn on a handful of points. Sports psychologists have long noted that junior tennis produces among the highest stress and dropout rates of any youth sport with 35 percent annual dropout rates.
Certainly, the environment can foster resilience, but it can just as easily breed self-absorption and brittleness. Under that kind of pressure, even kindness from the stands can feel like a distraction. Respecting the choice to play tennis should not mean ignoring these costs. Adults owe it to kids to ensure the environment develops their health and character as well as their serves and returns.
Notably golf, too, is solitary and exacting. But its culture pushes in the opposite direction. My son recently attended a junior golf camp and the difference was palpable. Golfers are taught to shake hands at the end of a round, to compliment a good shot, and to wait silently while others play. Courtesy is not an afterthought; it is built into the sport. The US Golf Association and PGA Junior League intentionally emphasize etiquette, teaching children from the start that how you carry yourself matters as much as what you score. Golf is far from perfect; its history of exclusion is real. And tennis has produced countless players of grace and dignity.
But the cultural differences I saw firsthand are stark. One culture integrates respect and sportsmanship into its fabric. The other leaves too much to chance, with health and civility often collateral damage.
It is tempting to dismiss our experience as anecdotal. But formal research aligns with what we witnessed. Studies document significantly higher stress in junior tennis, with the sport’s individual nature contributing to psychological strain. Research shows individual sport athletes may experience greater shame compared to team sports, factors linked to depressive symptoms. By contrast, youth golf programs report stronger retention and positive peer interaction, precisely because courtesy is taught as skill and practiced alongside competition.
Sports are often described as character-building. In reality, they are character-shaping. They magnify the values already embedded in their institutions. Tennis emphasizes grit, survival, and relentless independence. Golf emphasizes composure, courtesy, and mutual respect. Both virtues matter. But in an age already strained by incivility, one set of lessons seems more urgently needed.
Sports don’t create citizens in a simple cause-and-effect way. But they are powerful training grounds for habits that extend well beyond the court or course. When kids are taught that courtesy, composure, and mutual respect are inseparable from competition, they carry those lessons into classrooms, workplaces, and communities. When they are taught that pressure excuses incivility, they risk absorbing the opposite. Children should be free to pursue the sport they love, whether that is tennis, golf, or anything else that sparks their passion. But adults must ensure that these environments respect not only their choices but also their health, development, and dignity. A sport that builds skill at the expense of empathy risks leaving young people talented but brittle. One that cultivates resilience and respect together gives them both the strength to excel and the humanity to flourish.
We left the Open awed by athleticism but troubled by dismissiveness. As a New York tradition, the tournament should close summer with joy and inspiration. Instead, it offered a sobering reminder: Sports don’t just measure skill; they teach how to live with others. That’s a lesson we cannot afford to overlook.
