Picture: Netflix / Ashley Röttjers
Football Parents just landed on Netflix – a fresh Dutch comedy series that parks itself right on the sidelines of local youth football. It kicks off with single mom Lillian and her son Levi, who find themselves tangled in the chaotic, over-the-top world of amateur football parents. One minute she’s cheering from the sidelines, the next she’s drowning in WhatsApp drama and weekend routines that feel more like military operations. Sounds familiar? That’s the point. It’s sharp, it’s relatable… but unfortunately, somewhere between the kickoff and the final whistle, the series drops the ball.
Written by Ilse Warringa – the creative mind behind the brilliant Dutch comedy De Luizenmoeder (The Lice Mother) – and co-directed by Warringa and Albert Jan van Rees, the show had all the ingredients for success. But where De Luizenmoeder was razor-sharp, delightfully uncomfortable, and refreshingly honest, Football Parents leans on tired stereotypes, flat jokes, and a total lack of subtlety.
The biggest issue? The tone is all over the place. The series tries to blend light satire with crude humor, but it never quite figures out where to land. At one point, characters casually use “cancer” as an insult. Later, there’s a wildly inappropriate joke about Dutch footballer Abdelhak Nouri, who suffered cardiac arrest eight years ago and sustained permanent brain damage. These moments feel jarring, entirely out of sync with the quirky comedy vibe the show is going for. It’s not edgy, it’s just off-putting. And unnecessary.
Picture: Netflix / Ashley Röttjers
The cast – including Eva van Gessel, Bas Hoeflaak, and René van ’t Hof – shows promise, but they aren’t given much to work with. Warringa herself plays Marenka, a cartoonishly loud character who seems allergic to nuance. Instead of laughs, she mostly elicits eye-rolls. The dialogue often feels forced, with scenes drifting into awkwardness – and not the fun, cringe-comedy kind.
Then there’s the hyper-local flavor. References to Dutch referee Kevin Blom or snack bar slang like bruin fruit (deep-fried snacks) might make locals smile, but international viewers will be left scratching their heads. And if they don’t get the reference, they won’t get the joke either.
To be fair, the core concept is decent. Parents losing their minds over their kids’ sports? That’s a universal phenomenon – perfect for satire. But Football Parents doesn’t make much of that potential. Instead of sharp social commentary, we get loud, one-note characters and jokes that try way too hard. The final episodes do offer a few warmer, feel-good moments, but by then, you’ve already slogged through a cringeworthy mess to get there.
Dutch productions have been making waves internationally with gripping dramas like Het Gouden Uur (The Golden Hour) and iHostage. Football Parents, sadly, feels like a step backwards. It’s the kind of show that would’ve been more at home on Dutch television or a local streaming platform. Netflix, with its global reach, could’ve showcased something that truly reflects the quality Dutch television is capable of. But this? It’s unlikely to resonate beyond the Netherlands.
Sure, it might still get a second season. Plenty of Dutch (and maybe Flemish) viewers will probably enjoy it for what it is. But honestly? I’d rather see the Dutch stick to what they truly excel at: gripping thrillers, dark true crime, and high-impact drama. Leave the half-baked comedies on the sidelines.
Picture: Netflix / Ashley Röttjers
- De Luizenmoeder (The Lice Mother)
- Haantjes (Roosters)
- New Kids
- De Terugreis (Memory Lane)
The one genuine bright spot? Martin van Waardenberg steals the show in a small but entertaining role.
As a grumpy, perpetually irritated club owner who couldn’t care less about the chaos around him, he somehow stays grounded and believable. While most of the cast lean into cartoonish excess, Van Waardenberg proves someone here still knows how to act, even if his role is small.
Football Parents is a missed shot. It wants to be funny, relatable, and sharp, but ends up mostly awkward, over-the-top, and painfully predictable. It feels like a lukewarm rerun of De Luizenmoeder, without the wit or charm. Okay for a sleepy Sunday on Dutch TV – but on Netflix? It’s an awkward own goal.
