Why Do We Do This? A Soccer Dad’s Reflection on Club Sports

As I sit here watching my 17-year-old daughter play a club game in 37-degree rain, I find myself asking the question every club sports parent has:

Why (the hell!) do we do this?

Why do we dedicate massive chunks of our lives to club sports? Why do we sit in freezing rain, drive hundreds of miles, and rearrange our lives around tournaments, games, and practices?

If you spend five minutes on social media, you’ll find as many memes mocking club sports as you'll proud posts celebrating it. It’s a lifestyle, and if you're in it, you get it. If you're on the outside, you think we're all crazy. Hint: we probabaly all are.

Reflecting on nearly a decade in this world, I’ve come to believe that we do it for two reasons: hope and connection.
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The Hope

Hope is the easy one to understand. When we first notice our kid has that spark, when they stand out among their peers, it’s only natural to dream big:

• Maybe they’ll go pro.
• Maybe they’ll play in a World Cup.
• Maybe they’ll get a scholarship to a top D1 school.
• Or maybe they’ll just play in college and carry this game into adulthood.

These levels of hope evolve. Sometimes, they get recalibrated. But that initial dream, of this sport leading to something greater, stays with us. It’s what keeps us moving on this train, when it feels sometimes we can't get off.
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The Connection

But connection, that’s the deeper reason. And it’s the one that often goes unnoticed until it’s gone.

There’s the connection your kid builds with their teammates, learning to win, lose, struggle, and succeed together. Then there’s the connection we as parents make, with our own kids, and with each other.

In a world that’s often fragmented and disconnected, club sports give us a rare thing: a shared experience. Time on the sidelines with other parents, weekend after weekend. Conversations about gameplay, coaches, refs (mostly complaints, let’s be honest).

And then there are the travel tournaments—the hotels, the long drives, the unfamiliar cities. My daughter has been on more than 40 flights by age 17. At her age, I’d been on maybe two. We’ve seen places we otherwise wouldn’t have (Norco CA, or Winston-Salem, NC). And yes, the lobby bar stories, filled with too many Bud Lights and late-night laughs, become part of the lore.
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When It Changes

But here’s the truth: things shift.

Hope starts to dim for some. That D1 dream becomes D3 or club. And sometimes, out of nowhere, things fracture. After seven years with the same club, my daughter was asked to play on a different team, a lower team. Given it was her junior year, the most important year for recruiting, we left and joined a club to keep that "elite" level on her resume. And in doing so, we left behind the web of relationships we’d spent years building.

The connection was severed. Not just for our daughter—but for us.

Still, we move forward. Why? Because we’re not ready to let go of the hope. We still believe this can be a springboard into something bigger for her.

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Is It Worth It?

Financially? Logistically? From an ROI standpoint? Absolutely not.

But that’s not the right metric.

If you’re just starting this journey, here’s my advice:

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Focus on the connections

Celebrate the friendships, the shared hotel breakfasts, the sideline jokes, the car rides home. That’s the real return on investment.

And remember, this whole thing mirrors life, so it's a great lesson for out kids. People rise and fall. Some peak too early and burn out. Others, once overlooked, become leaders. People come and go. Because life is dynamic, unpredictable, beautiful, and messy, so it makes sense that club sports is too.

So enjoy it. Savor it. Be grateful for the moments.

If, by the end, your child plays in college, plays intramurals, or just carries this sport with them into adulthood, then you’ve done your job.

You’ve given them something meaningful.

And you’ve gotten something just as valuable in return.

— Ben

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