The Club Conversation

The Club Conversation

I’ve spent the last 12 years inside this. Not watching it from the outside. Not guessing. Living it. Coaching in it and walking away from it. More than once.

And the hardest part is this:

Most families don’t realize what they’re in until they’re already deep in it. Because on the surface, everything looks right.

The facilities are full. The teams are stacked. The social media looks impressive.

The promises sound good.

“Every athlete will be developed.” “Every athlete will be coached the same way.” “Every athlete matters.”

But over time, you start to feel the gap between what’s said and what’s actually happening.

Your daughter is showing up. Working. Trying to do things the right way. And slowly, something shifts.

She starts asking for feedback and doesn’t get clear answers. She starts putting in extra work and doesn’t understand why it’s not translating. She starts questioning herself in ways she never used to.

And you’re left trying to figure out if it’s just part of the process, or if something is off.

After 12 years, I can tell you this with complete confidence:

There are cycles in club volleyball. And when a club moves too far into growth and profit, things start to slip. Not overnight. Gradually. Quietly.

It usually starts with numbers. More teams. More athletes. More commitments. But not enough coaches who are truly equipped to lead both the game and the people in front of them.

So control starts to fade. Consistency disappears. Culture becomes dependent on whoever happens to be standing in front of your kid that day.

You end up with a mix of coaches who:

• mean well but don’t know how to teach the game at a high level
• understand the game but have no interest in shaping young people,
• and in some cases, neither

So what fills the gap?

Politics. Favoritism. Shortcuts. Decisions that are easier to manage large groups, not develop individuals.

This is where families start to feel it. Not always in obvious ways.

Sometimes it looks like:

• Vague feedback.
• Inconsistent expectations.
• Playing time that doesn’t seem to align with effort or growth.
• Conversations that leave more confusion than clarity.

Other times, it’s more direct:

• Kids being spoken to in ways that don’t build them.
• Being pulled into adult dynamics they should never be a part of.
• Hearing things about teammates or coaches that have nothing to do with their development.
• Learning, very quickly, that it’s safer to stay quiet than to ask questions.

That’s the part that sits with me.

Because we say we want athletes who are accountable, who advocate for themselves, who ask how to improve. But then we put them in environments where doing that gets ignored, or worse, shut down.

Let me be clear about something.

Not every athlete should play the same amount. Not every athlete is at the same level. And sometimes the hard truth is that someone else has earned a bigger role.

That’s sports. That’s life.

But there is a difference between: “Here’s where you are, and here’s how to get better,” and “just keep working,” with no direction behind it.

One builds athletes. The other keeps them in place, in line. And when that goes on long enough, something bigger starts to happen.

• Kids stop trusting themselves.
• They stop understanding what their effort actually means.
• They start tying their value to decisions they don’t understand and can’t control.

That’s not development. That’s erosion.

The part that’s hardest for parents to navigate is this: You’ve invested time. Money. Energy. Years in some cases. And you want to believe you’re in the right place. Because walking away feels like starting over.

But here’s the truth that most people don’t say out loud.

There is no single club that owns your athlete’s future. There is no one path that determines whether she gets better, gets seen, or gets opportunities.

This sport is too saturated for that to be true.

What does matter is the environment she’s in while she’s doing it. Who is coaching her? How she’s being spoken to, and whether she understands what she’s working toward.

And most importantly, who she is becoming in the process.

Because volleyball is something she does. It is not who she is. And no system gets to take that from her.

If she is being challenged, guided, and built up while being held accountable, stay.

If she is being confused, overlooked, or diminished for the sake of maintaining numbers or appearances, then it’s worth asking harder questions.

After 12 years in this, I don’t say that lightly. I’ve seen what happens when environments are done well. And I’ve seen what happens when they’re not.

The difference isn’t the drills. It’s not the gear. It’s not the logo. It’s not even the level. It’s the intent behind what’s being done, and whether the people leading it remember that they’re not just coaching volleyball.

They’re shaping young people. That part can’t be an afterthought. It has to be the foundation.

If you’re reading this and something feels off…

Trust that. Ask questions. Expect real answers. And don’t ignore what you’re seeing just because it’s uncomfortable to face. Because at the end of the day, this is still a service. And your athlete is still a person. That should never get lost.