Be Honest: What Kind Of Sports Mom Are You?

Playoff game or pre-season parade, this mom arrives with fresh fruit and granola bars for all. She has an elite collection of coolers, most on wheels for ultimate mobility, loads of energy drinks, and a speedy and aggressive hand-out technique.

While some might discreetly drop their coolers on the sidelines for kids to access at their leisure, this mom waves Gatorade bottles around like a ballpark hotdog salesman. She fuels and hydrates the team, coaches, and many of the younger siblings on a weekly basis, earning her role as an unsung hero each and every season. She is the backbone of any well-oiled team machine and a godsend to any mom who's ever found herself dashing toward the field, kid lagging behind, five minutes late.

This wrangler misses the whole game due to bathroom trips and snack bar runs. She can usually be found pushing a stroller around the edge of the field to soothe a crying baby or under the bleachers fetching her toddlers’ fallen Barbie for the eighth time.

She makes sure to catch the important moments but simply has too many kids to take any of it very seriously. Relatable, messy, and unthreatening, this mom’s chaos is more entertaining than the Super Bowl halftime show.

Easily excited and fiercely loyal, you want this mom on your team.

She doesn’t have time for snacks or small talk and often leaves her filter in the car. Her voice echoes as she unabashedly yells phrases like, “he’s got nothin’!” to the opposing team’s all-star. Most likely a former athlete herself, her competitive blood runs deep. She’s aware of her absurdity, often laughing at herself but still unable to reel herself in.

She is easy to spot donning team colors from head to toe, waving a homemade poster, dollar store pom-poms, or both. You know her full legal name because it is peppered all over the team's Facebook page with updates regarding coordinated spirit-wear and coaches’ gifts.

She cheers loudly for all and is generous with high-fives, but don’t get it twisted — the crown is hers, and she will cut you before she lets you plan a pasta party without her approval.

Exhibiting the competitive edge of a boardroom bulldog, this mom leaves no room for the cutesy shit. She has a respect for the game and high expectations for everyone involved. Her cheering usually consists of loud, repetitive directions mixed with celebratory screams for success.

She might seem a little intense to some, but she’s okay with that, understanding that she will have the last laugh on draft night.

iPhone in hand, this super agile mom bobs and weaves through the crowd to capture the perfect angle of her son’s diving catch. She watches the entire game from behind her screen and isn’t afraid to shove other parents, coaches, and officials out of her way for the perfect shot of little Jimmy in uniform.

Her social media feed is a perfectly curated collection of all her children’s athletic accomplishments, often including video footage with audible high-pitched narration of her child’s every move. And while her focus makes it impossible for her to socialize throughout the season, she is walking away with one hell of a highlight film.

No need for a scoreboard view if you are sitting within earshot of this mom. Fingers will fly into the air at a moments’ notice if she overhears someone casually asking the score of the game — extra fast if her child’s team is winning. This walking Wikipedia page of stats is the logical, organized information keeper that every team needs.

This mom doesn’t give a flip about the score, the rules, or the sideline culture. She shows up in her Guns N' Roses tee and oversized sunglasses, sipping her latte alone in the corner as she scrolls through her phone, only looking up for big plays.

You immediately know which player she belongs to, because her child has an effortless coolness that the others do not. Not a real fan of team gatherings or coordinated mom shirts, she keeps mostly to herself, showing support from afar.

Take a deep breath before sitting next to this mom, because her energy can be contagious. Her child, often the most prone to injury, causes her to pace the sidelines, grimacing at every whistle blow. Any competitive edge is completely overshadowed by nerves. Her purse fully stocked with emergency medical supplies, she sprints to her child at the end of each game inspecting his entire body for suspected injury. And just when she breathes a sigh of relief, she remembers she has another game this afternoon.