Perhaps the most entitled type of parent is the dreaded "soccer mom." These moms think their kids are the most important thing to walk the Earth and makes everyone who crosses their path absolutely miserable. These Redditors shared their own personal experiences with soccer moms and tell the tales of how they survived the encounter. Content has been edited for clarity.
Baseball Parents Gone Wild
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“When I was 16, I was umpiring the championship game of the baseball league for 9/10-year-olds in my city with a friend of mine. The team in the field is up by one in the last inning and there are two outs with the bases loaded. Parents are SCREAMING in excitement.
The batter smacks a line drive that falls in front of the right fielder, the runner on third scores easily and the runner that was on second is trying to score as well. The throw from the right fielder is way off but there’s one problem, the kid never touched home plate. He stepped right over it. So while the team that thinks they just won is celebrating, the catcher picks the ball up and tags the runner who missed home plate. I call him out. The parents go crazy. Cursing at me at the top of their lungs in front of their kids. It was pretty terrible.
Turns out one of the parents was recording the game and between innings, he showed me what he had recorded. I was right, the kid was never even close to touching the plate. He showed the video to the rest of the parents and a few of the people slipped me some extra money after the game for treating me so poorly. However, one parent did confront me in the parking lot and tried to fight me until he was dragged away by his wife.”
Finnish Hockey Doesn’t Favor Fat Kids
“When I was around 10, I was in my class’s ice hockey team. Now, I wasn’t a small kid; in fact, I was fat and clumsy. I didn’t like hockey, I just wanted to be one of the cool kids and wanted approval from my mom and stepdad, he pushed me into it. But childhood hockey in Finland doesn’t exactly favor fat kids.
Anyhow, one of our games wasn’t going well and we eventually lost. During the game, I completely missed a shot due to my nervousness. One of these crazy moms watching the game actually shouted at me ‘FAT LARD.’ I felt great.
After the game was somewhat worse. The same mom came up to me in a corner and told me she would ‘cut me’ if I ever play for the team again. Later on, after the game, I heard her talking to other moms about how the fat kid shouldn’t play, he’s useless and a liability and should be taken out of the team due to safety reasons because he could CRUSH the other kids.
Needless to say, I didn’t go back. I metaphorically kept my mouth shut and ate more food. The mom apparently was bipolar, but her son is an awesome person and a friend of mine.”
“Now THAT’S Dinner And A Show!”
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“This one is a double whammy of epic proportions…
I’m starving, waiting in line with a friend of mine at Mickey D’s, when I notice a large SUV parking outside right in front of the place. A small tribe of soccer kids enter the restaurant, I’d like to say 8/10-year-olds, goes running to the playground while a rather thin, slinky, Hispanic woman walks towards the restroom. She comes back, calls a kid over, and tells him something. The kid comes running into the line and asks if he can cut in line so he can get an ice cream cone. I stand there for a second contemplating my response because I fear I know where this is going…but I cave and say yes.
The kid calls his mom over, the lady says thank you and then proceeds to take out her phone, and calls another lady asking what HER kids are going to want…Then eight MORE kids get there. At this point, I kindly ask her to let us go ahead of her since we are only ordering two meals and she is about to order about 20. She turns around, yells, ‘What did you just call me?!’ at the top of her lungs and starts a whole speech about how I am being disrespectful to her and her kids by using such language…in front of a packed restaurant.
In the most emotionless voice I can muster, I tell her that she used her child to get into the line, something EVERYONE saw, and that she should feel ashamed of herself for causing a scene just so that she could try to make me embarrassed and skip the line. She starts yelling that I am being prejudiced (I’m Mexican American, I just happen to speak both Spanish and English very well) and that I should get kicked out of the restaurant for being so disrespectful to the other customers. How dare I try to come before a group of kids that just played a soccer game?! They were tired and needed food!
The manager comes out and he’s freaking out because this lady is acting like I just cut through one of the kids with a chainsaw. She DEMANDS I be removed from the restaurant. This whole time, I am LIVID at the guts on this broad. I tell the manager that I’m getting ready to call the cops because this lady is basically harassing me. She starts yelling for SOMEONE to call the cops because she’s scared for her wellbeing. The manager reassures the lady that everything was going to be handled and he apologized for any problems she might have encountered. I have NO IDEA why he decided to say that since she is the one causing all this ruckus.
All this is holding up the line. Remember, we are in a packed restaurant. Other people start telling her to calm down and they start backing me up. They offer to call the police for me. She starts yelling AT EVERYONE. This elderly lady, I’m talking about 65 or 70, in the line next to ours asks my friend and I what we were going to order. We tell her, ‘We just wanted some Big Macs,’ and she actually gets our food. She then turns to the crazy soccer mom and tells her, ‘If you would have been ready with your order, you could have gotten your food just like everyone else. If you cared so much about your kid’s wellbeing, you would have taken them to eat healthier food. People like you make me sick. I feel sorry for your kids.’
The crazy soccer mom just stands there, without even blinking. The WHOLE joint just stands there, without even so much as taking a breath. We can see it in her eyes, she’s trying to think of something to say. She was about to go into another fit of rage, then suddenly she yells out, ‘MYYYYYY CAAAAR!’ We all turn around to see her SUV getting towed. She runs outside, pushing her poor kid over, and again, in a similarly dramatic fashion, she begins pleading with the officer, using her children as a shield and excuse, asking the cop, ‘Who was going to take them to the game they had in an hoOOuuUUuur!?’ It was to no avail. Her car gets towed. Her husband has to show up and he is not happy with her little theatrics.
She keeps arguing with the officer, rambling things I couldn’t hear nor care to listen to since I was already enjoying my meal… and then came a blood-curdling scream. We turn around and see her getting cuffed!!
Apparently, someone at the restaurant called the cops because this crazy woman was going nuts. When the cop got there, he noticed an SUV parked in a handicapped spot that didn’t have the proper plates or a permit to be parked there. He was in the process of issuing a ticket when all sorts of crazy stuff came out of her record.
It turns out this lady didn’t have a license or insurance, she had various outstanding tickets, and she was involved in a hit and run.
The look on her face getting hauled off, and her husband yelling all kinds of stuff at her, for being such an idiot, was priceless.
In the end, we got free food and that witch got arrested.
Now THAT was a dinner and a show.”
She Was So Angry About The Inconvenience She Forgot Something Important
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“I’m a lowly retail associate who rents tools to people. The job has its perks (basically getting to sit in front of a computer all day) and it has its disadvantages (LITERALLY sitting in front of a computer all day, with no customers).
One particularly droll day, I decided I was going to drink coffee. A LOT of coffee. This both kept me awake at my post and also supercharged my kidneys into urinary-tract-cleansing-purge-super-now-pee-time. So bad was my urge to pee, I didn’t have time to alert a cashier or a manager that I was rushing to the bathroom. I quickly wrote a note that said, ‘Back in 5 minutes’ and ran like I was being chased by a pack of rabid llamas wearing sailors outfits. Soon, sweet relief was had.
So, figuring that the night was almost over, I casually made my way back. I couldn’t have been gone for more than four minutes from my department. I was rounding the corner and started heading towards my little cage of employment when I heard a woman yelling at one of the cashiers. Something along the lines of, ‘WHERE IS YOUR TOOL RENTAL GUY!?’
I was confused about why there was yelling and screaming, so I hurried my pace a bit. I saw this woman standing in the door to my department, toting two little puggy devil-boys who were twins and a younger daughter.
I was quick to intervene and said, ‘Sorry ma’am, I was just in the washroom. I should have made the sign more visible.’ So, now that I’d re-directed this land-whale’s hate unto myself, I received the verbal-lashing to end all lashings. She went on and on and on about how she had been waiting fifteen minutes for someone to show up and how she was tired from getting her daughter from soccer and blah blah blah. The sons were glaring at me menacingly and the daughter was sheepishly trying to stay out of sight, hiding over by my desk. I just said, ‘Ma’am, I’m sorry you had to wait. I’m back now and I can help you. What is it you were looking for?’
One of the sons, Tweedle-dee, I believe, looked at me and just spat out, ‘We don’t NEED your help anymore, idiot!’ The mother silently nodding her head in agreement. She yelled more outlandish things and began to sound more and more like a wounded bison, then she finally trudged off, taking with her the two walking dumpling sacks and left the store….AND FORGOT HER FREAKING DAUGHTER.
So, I was standing in the door of my department, dumbfounded as to what just happened, when I heard from behind me ‘…Could… could you call my daddy? I know his phone number…’ I didn’t even know what to say to the poor kid. I called up a manager, we called her dad, and he came to get her. The man was actually very, very nice. He even bought me another coffee. He thanked us for keeping an eye on her, them they went off to confront the land-whale waiting for them at home. I expected backlash, but still have received none.
To this day, I still have no idea what she could have possibly have been looking for.”
Referees Can’t Kick Out Fans…Except For This Insane Woman
“I was a soccer referee for about 8 years (reffed ages 12-men’s leagues) and it that time I had a lot of crazy stuff happen during games.
This was a U16 game, so there were 14 and 15-year-old guys playing. Let’s call the teams Red and Blue. It was a championship game, so the guys were playing pretty intensely, and there were a number of cautions (yellow cards) given. There were five minutes left and the score was tied 1-1.
A blue player had a great chance at the goal and the red keeper was out of position. Just before the ball went into the net, a red player reached out his hand and swatted the ball down. This is an automatic red card (ejection) and a penalty kick. As I showed him the red card, he took it gracefully and left to grab his kit bag. However, one woman in the crowd (his mom) began yelling at me quite obnoxiously. Unless there’s cursing or something more extreme, refs can’t really kick a fan out…they are just a spectator. So I tried to ignore her.
Now, when a red card is given, the player must leave the field entirely, not just go sit in the stands. So I waited to restart play with the penalty kick until the player had left. What I didn’t notice was that the kid’s mom had not left with him.
Once I was sure he was gone, I placed the ball down and turned my back to address the kicker. He suddenly pointed behind me and as I turned, the ball hit me in the chest. The insane woman was standing there, eyes blazing with anger, cursing and shouting about how I ‘mistreated her boy.’ I was stunned and really wanted to pick the ball up bash her in the face with it (however that’s looked down upon by the ref association).
Unfortunately for her, one of the spectators was a cop who promptly came down and restrained her. He then called one of his on-duty buddies to come and take her away.
The only other part of the story that was memorable was the kid who got ejected. He came up to me after the game and apologized for his step-mom and said, ‘My actual mom was a lot cooler.'”
“I Know Now To Never Anger My Wife”
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“I was at the local park watching my oldest play baseball several years back. I noticed three boys, ages ranging from 4 to 7, pulling giant shards of plywood off one of the backstops on another field. They were giggling with glee as each piece fell. This was no more than 30 yards from where we were sitting. Not only was it dangerous to the kids, it was ruining an already decaying structure. I walked over and told them to ‘knock it off.’ They split off as fast as they could like roaches when you turn on the lights.
About five minutes later, their Mommy came over, got in my face screaming at me: ‘Don’t you ever talk to my kids! I will take care of them! Don’t even look at my children!’ My wife was flabbergasted as she was the one who told me to get the kids to stop it.
I nonchalantly put my hand up to her face and said, ‘Go away.’ She slapped my hand away and it was on.
Now, my wife is the sweetest person I have ever met in my life, which is why I married her. She jumped out of her chair, handed me the baby and said, ‘I got this.’ I now know never to anger my wife because the ton of wrath and fury rained down on that witch. It was like some sort of demonic possession and she was so intent on burying that woman in the salt flats.
The verbal beatdown she gave that woman was like she was a love child made by Muhammad Ali and Malcolm X. Then she sat down, took the baby back and continued on like nothing happened as the other mom slunk back to her side of the field.”
A Classic Case Of Mistaken Identity
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“So I was watching my little brother play soccer, his jersey number was 1. There was this little potty-mouth on the team with the jersey number 10. Both of them were forwards and toward the end of the game (we were dominating), 10 got a penalty called on him and proceeded to curse out the ref and an opposing player.
Then, when the game ended, we saw my brother coming over with his gear, and an angry woman following him and talking at him. He looked really uncomfortable. He walked up to my dad, and muttered, ‘Can we go?’
However, the woman walked up to my dad and said, very angrily, ‘Is THIS your child?’
My dad said, ‘Yeah, is there a problem…?’
She started flipping out, ‘YES! You, sir, are a horrible father. Your son has the nerve to push around another little boy, then curse out a referee?! An official for the game they’re playing? We did not join this league to have to deal with potty-mouthed brats like this!’ She had obviously mistaken 1 for 10.
Now, my dad is a very calm and understanding man. He said to her, ‘Well, look lady, my kid doesn’t swear, you were looking at Wesley…’
‘No! I know what I saw! Your son deserves to be booted from this entire league!’
And my dad got angry and said, ‘Look, how about you go yell at the actual kid who swore. I don’t have time for this.’
Then her husband, A SOCCER DAD, came over and was all like, ‘What’s going on here, dear?’
And she lied, ‘This man is threatening me!’
To which he said, ‘Well, you’re gonna pick on a little lady, huh, tough guy?’ Note: this dude was about 6’1 and scrawny, and my dad was 5’11 and at the time had a little weight, but a lot of muscle.
My dad snapped. He grabbed the guy by the collar and cursed him out in his infamous Clint Eastwood impersonation voice, ‘Look. Your wife is a freaking liar and it’s starting to get annoying. Now if you wanna play hero, go ahead. I’ll be waiting in the parking lot if you feel like getting a neck brace!’
Then my dad grabbed my little brother and they walked away, with me tailing behind them, laughing my head off. The last thing my dad said to my brother about it was, ‘Don’t repeat that.'”
“Swimmer Moms” Are Crazy Too
“In addition to soccer moms, there are crazy ‘swimmer moms,’ too. I’m in high school here in New Jersey. I believe it was my Sophomore year and my team and I were at our States meet. I, by no means, was the fastest thing to ever have gotten wet, but I held my own in the water. I had never swum a 200m Freestyle before, as I usually sprinted (50m and 100m), but it was my turn to step up, and I was skilled enough to not only win but place in the final seed for the meet, which gained my school enough points to win the meet.
Anyway, after my swim, and the congratulatory handshake to the surrounding swimmers, I got out, put my leg back on and walked over to my team. That’s when, all-of-a-sudden, some kid’s mom grabbed me and demanded to have me admit to steroid abuse because, and I QUOTE, ‘No kid missing a leg could beat my son.’
I looked her square in the eyes and said, ‘I’m sorry ma’am, but if your son is slow enough to get beaten by a kid with one leg, then maybe he should find a new sport.'”
Grandpa Got Banned From Soccer Games For Life
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“When I was twelve, I worked as a referee for soccer games for 5/6-year-olds. The kids were so young that the teams were still mixed gender. It was a nice sunny day, but it had been raining all night and the field was torn up. It looked like someone had been doing donuts or something in the mud. It seemed ok, more or less, except for this one massive mud hole near midfield. It was probably about six feet across and 2-3 feet deep; it was really big. I wasn’t super sure the field was safe for these little ones, but I talked with the coaches and called my boss and we agreed to just cone off the hole and if the ball went in there I would just stop play, get it out myself and just do a drop ball to resume play. Everyone seemed happy with the compromise so the game went ahead.
Well, naturally, the kids were slipping everywhere, tears were in great abundance, and the ball couldn’t go two minutes without getting in that darn hole. So while most people were just mildly annoyed by these setbacks, one grandfather on the sidelines started going crazy. He kept screaming at me specifically to let them play in the hole and that I shouldn’t stop the game every time one of the fell down and started crying. So I tried to ignore him for a while, but he just kept getting more and more aggressive. Eventually, I even paused the game to tell the coach of the team to get this guy under control. Well, at that point, he flipped out and started giving me the finger and just cussing up a storm. Mind you, this is a rec league game full of 5/6-year-olds. One of whom is presumably HIS grandchild. He even started threatening to hit me for being such a wimp. Again, keep in mind, he was about 80 and I was 12. So I started crying at this point and called the coach over one more time and issue the only red card of my entire reffing career, to this grandfather.
I ejected him from the field and told the coach that if he wasn’t out of my sight in two minutes his team would get suspended from play for two games. It was like the highest possible sanction. The coach tried to talk to the guy, who obviously just freaked out all the more. He picked up a collapsible chair and tried throw it at me. Granted it was more just in my general direction because I was about 30 feet away and he was old and couldn’t throw it very far, but it was still super scary. I called my boss right away and I believe the grandparent wound up being banned for life from attending our town’s rec league soccer games.”
“You’ll Be Sorry You Kicked Us Out”
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“I’m a hostess in a restaurant that is pretty popular and is often packed and has a wait list. One day at work, this family of soccer mom, dad, and three little monsters in their soccer gear walk in. I explain to them that we are on wait at the moment, it shouldn’t be any longer than 15 minutes, and that I can put them on the list if they’d like. The mom looks pretty peeved but says yeah put me on the list and I do.
Less than five minutes later, she walks up, says that her family is in such a hurry and asks to be moved to first on the list. I ask my manager just to appease the mom, even though I know he’ll say no because it’s against our policy and we have other customers to think of. So while they’re waiting, the kids are horrendous and start knocking chairs over, being extremely loud, and stealing pens from my desk. I politely ask them to please return my pens, as I needed them, and next thing I know psycho-mom is screaming at me for ‘daring to speak to her children that way’ and telling me that her children ‘would never steal.’ I pointed out that the pens are RIGHT THERE IN THEIR HANDS and she just kind of ignores me and tells me to leave her children alone. I don’t want my manager involved again so I just drop it and borrow a pen from somewhere else.
Our restaurant is set up kind of like a cafeteria and all the tables can be seen from our wait area. Around this time, another group left their table. Before the table can even be cleaned or I can seat the next group on the list, the mom and her family strut past me and sit down at the table. As the family was extremely obnoxious, the other people on the list know exactly when they walked in and are very angry that they just got a table.
I tell my manager what they just did and that other customers are angry and he walks over to inform them that he’s very sorry, but they must leave the table so the next group on the list can be sat. Well, the mom loses it and says that it’s ridiculous that they should have to wait (cause they’re so important, I guess) and that we’ll be sorry we kicked her family out because they’re well off and will ‘spend more money than anyone else on that stupid list will.'”