My youngest daughter is playing club volleyball again this season. It seems like she’s been doing this forever, although it’s only been five years. Then again, my oldest daughter started playing club ball when she was in 6th grade…and she’ll turn 30 this year. So I’ve been a “club volleyball Dad” for a long time. 

A really long time! 

Part of that longevity has exposed me to all sorts of things. Volleyball rules dictate no more than four players from the same school can play together, so club teams are made up of players from different schools. Because our hometown isn’t big, our kids have often played for clubs based in neighboring towns. That means a lot of travel for us. But it also means the quality is pretty high. Frankly, people don’t want to invest the time and money in club volleyball just so their kids have “fun”. The goal is to get better, sometimes to rise up the ladder in high school ball…and sometimes to prepare to play in college. 

But joining a team in a different city or town is something of a crap-shoot. It’s hard to know who’s going to be on the team. It’s difficult to assess who the coaches are. And the administrative quality of the club can impact things enormously. A poorly run club can make things much harder than they need to be. 

Like I said, I’ve seen a lot. 

This year, my daughter wanted to use her experience playing on the varsity as a sophomore to springboard onto a more competitive team. That meant looking farther than we usually do. It meant greater expense for club dues. And it’s meant traveling over an hour each way for practice, three times a week. Her former clubs usually practiced twice a week…and the gyms were within 10 minutes of home. I could run her over and zip back home. Not so this year. When we go, we leave 75 minutes before practice starts and tack on an hour afterwards. And practices are longer, running from 1-1/2 to 2-1/2 hours. 

It’s been a commitment. 

But it’s been a commitment we’ve both been willing to make because the quality of the players and the coach are much higher than anything we could find closer to home. It’s a tradeoff of time and money that we’re viewing as an investment in her sporting future. 

Whenever the kids start with a new team, I’m always nervous. I have a smidgen of imposter syndrome and worry that they’re in over their heads. I don’t want my little darling to be embarrassed or to feel unworthy. I fear they won’t be good enough for the big city team. 

Don’t misunderstand me. My kids have all been amazing athletes. We’ve had several compete in college sports. We’ve had All-Americans. We’ve had four-year starters in college. The kids are amazing. It’s Dad who has the fear of imposter syndrome. 

You’d think after all these years I would’ve learned they’ll do fine. In fact, they’ll excel. 

But the first night with any new team brings on pins and needles and worries about. 

I try really hard not to be a helicopter parent. I don’t hover in the gym. I try not to react to every success or gaffe on the court. My nervousness is contagious, so I try to stay out of sight of my athlete. 

Though sometimes I’ll sneak a look every now and then. 

This new season was no different. I set myself up in a hallway outside the gym. Fortunately, the facility is designed so that parents can watch from  behind windows, and I later learned they glare so badly the athletes can’t see out into the hall. Of course on the first night, I didn’t know that. 

So there I was, sneaking glances at my daughter and her new team. And my stomach was churning. Would she be good enough? Would she be able to hold her own? Who would be the superstar? What were the other players like? Who was this new coach…was she any good? 

My fears totally evaporated as the girls were getting ready for practice. Most of the players were sitting on the floor in a circle. But not my daughter. She was standing up and talking. And gesticulating, because she can’t talk without her hands. Most importantly, all the other girls were avidly listening to her. And they seemed enthralled. So I figured she’d be “ok”. Even if she wasn’t the same caliber of player, her outgoing, bubbly attitude was going to have her covered. 

I snuck looks at the team throughout the practice, and they seemed to be good. My daughter seemed to fit in from a skill perspective. And she  kept up the constant chatter throughout the practice. 

She was fine. I was fine. All was good with the world. 

As the weeks have gone by I’ve had more opportunities to watch this team. Each of the girls has an amazing set of skills, definitely worth the time and money to be on this club. The coach is outstanding, pretty much everything we could ask for. Great teacher, patient, and willing to deal with a flock of teenage girls. Having coached teens for many years that last factor is critical. 

The only downside to this team has been their performance at tournaments. In club volleyball, tournaments are broken up into pool play and bracket play. Essentially, the first part of the day consists of the teams playing in a round-robin competition. Then the results of all the pools seed the teams into an elimination bracket. After many hours of competing, everybody essentially starts over. 

The days are long and the kids and spectators are drained. There are emotional stresses that are hard to explain to somebody who hasn’t watched (or played) volleyball. As in any sport with human officiating, there is also that vector to deal with. Some tournaments have great refs, other tournaments are poorly officiated. In either case, there’s not much anybody can do about it. That doesn’t keep my blood from boiling when the officiating is bad.

So our girls have now played in two tournaments, and they’ve really struggled. They’re still in the early days as a team, and haven’t jelled yet. They don’t really know each other, so they don’t know how to trust each other. Individually they have all the skills they need to succeed…but as a team they haven’t quite put the puzzle together. 

After the second tournament, the question was raised as to how to address the poor results. There is a strong movement to find easier tournaments so that the girls can get some wins. The thought is that the girls are being emotionally sapped by not succeeding, and some of the players and parents feel that winning will help that. 

To be honest, I balk at that idea.

Don’t get me wrong, I love to win. The Hectic Clan loves to compete, and we don’t compete for participation ribbons. My oldest son used to call himself first loser when he got a second place in anything. It didn’t matter if it was a Pinewood Derby, racing his siblings in the backyard, or competing at the national track and field championships. If he didn’t stand on the top of the podium, he was first loser. Or worse! 

Of course, he’s grown in his understanding…as all athletes eventually do. Same with my daughter. She wants to win. I want her to win. 

Winning isn’t the only thing. My apologies to Vince Lombardi, but it really isn’t. 

When I sought out Vince’s quote (“Winning isn’t everything, it’s the only thing”) I also saw a lot of variations that attempted to encapsulate what I’m trying to say her. One of the better ones is also attributed to Vince Lombardi “Winning isn’t everything, but the will to win is everything”. 

The operative phrase is the will to win. It’s not just wanting it…and doing nothing. It’s not hoping that you will win. It’s not finding weaker opponents that you can dominate. 

Winning is great. But winning a hollow victory does nothing for anyone, especially young athletes. 

Right now I’m struggling to avoid going all motivational speaker and get you riled up. I’m battling the urge to exhort you to aim for the stars because if you miss you’ll still land on the moon. I’m fighting my desire to whip you into a frenzy. 

What I really want you to do is think about what winning means. 

To get to a win, you have to define it very carefully. The easy way to determine if you won is to see the score and know that you outscored your opponent. That is definitely one definition of winning. And it’s a very valid definition. I’m not asking anybody to aim to be first loser. What I am asking you to consider is…can you win without outscoring your opponent? 

I’m not talking about the platitude “It’s not whether you win or lose, it’s how you play the game”. This is something more than that. One of the motivational speakers I’ve listened to many times (but of course can’t cite right now because I can’t find the audio file) says that quote was made up by people who can’t win. He calls them weak pansies, if you want to get some idea of what he thinks. 

But there is a kernel of truth in that platitude. If you win by cheating…you just sullied everyone in the competition. Cheap wins don’t matter. In fact, they hurt all the competitors. 

I’ve always told my kids I expect them to put everything into their competitions. In swimming I’d say “leave it all in the pool”, in wrestling it was “leave it all on the mat”, at a track meet it’s “leave it all on the track”, and in volleyball it’s “leave it all on the court”. You get the idea. If you, individually did everything you could to help your team win…that’s what matters. You can’t control anybody else. Your teen athlete can’t control anybody else. All we can ask is that our competitors give everything they have…not everything they think they have, but everything they actually have. If they do that, there are times they will win. There are also times they will lose. 

There’s always a better player. There’s always a better team. There are officials who just can’t get things right. The sun might be glaring off the floor of the gym. There are tons of things that your athlete can’t control. Those are simply things. 

But there are a host of factors you and your athlete can control. For me, it’s keeping my mouth shut and not riding the refs. It’s holding back on negative comments. It’s wiping the scowl off my face during play. My role as Sports Dad is to exude a positive influence on my kid and her team. If my athlete looks at me during a timeout…I need to be an anchor in a stormy world. A friendly face both supportive and caring. Heck, I’m enthralled to watch my kids compete. They are all vastly better athletes than I ever hoped to be. But the challenges they face are also immensely larger. I need to be their #1 supporter. Not somebody who tears anyone down. Not the refs, coach, teammates, or even the other teams. 

We’re still in discussions about what the team is going to do, and I’m pretty certain that I’m in the minority. It looks like most of the other families want to find some easy wins to build confidence. 

I totally disagree. I want this team to learn to fight. I want them to dig deep within themselves and expose parts of their character they didn’t know they had. I want the puzzle to get put together and for them to battle at the highest level. 

If we go to the next couple of tournaments and still struggle to win games, I want them to be competitive in every game. No giving up. Not shutting down. No pointing fingers. I want each girl to be able to stand there in the final huddle and know I did my best. 

Will they win on the scoreboard? Who knows? 

Will they win in life if they give everything they have. Absolutely! 

Sorry Vince, but Winning Isn’t Everything. It’s not even the only thing.