Introducing Your Kid to Club Volleyball: Parent Tips From My First Season
It was 6:15 on a Tuesday night in September, and my 12-year-old Lila was leaning against the back of my minivan in the drafty parking lot of the local YMCA, picking chipped pale blue nail polish off her thumb. She’d quit rec soccer two months earlier, complaining that no one passed and the coaches only paid attention to the fastest kids, and I’d had to beg her just to come to this volleyball open house. My coworker’s daughter played club, and she’d kept telling me it was different—more team-focused, better for quiet kids who didn’t love the cutthroat rec vibe. I’d paid the $10 drop-in fee online that morning, and I was already mentally planning how I’d stop for fries on the way home when she said she hated it.
We walked in, the gym smelling like rubber floors and lemon disinfectant, and most of the other girls were already warming up, laughing and high-fiving like they’d known each other forever. Lila immediately hung back by the bleachers, so I pulled out my phone and texted the coach like I’d planned: She’s shy, never played before, just give her a minute. Ten seconds later, the coach—an easygoing 22-year-old college player who still had a sweatpant tan from her own season—wandered over, didn’t make a big deal out of introducing Lila to everyone, just asked her to help carry the mesh bag of volleyballs over to the net. By the end of the hour, Lila was running drills, her hair stuck to her neck, laughing when she missed a hit.
I was sitting in the bleachers when I overheard two parents talking about a $2,000 national tournament in Orlando, and my stomach dropped. I’d heard all the horror stories about club volleyball: it’s only for rich families, it’s 10 hours a week of practice, it’s all about getting a college scholarship before you hit high school. I almost walked over to pull Lila out early, but after practice the coach came over to chat on her own. She explained the club has three tiers: elite national, regional, and entry-level local for kids just trying the sport out. The entry level was two 90-minute practices a week after school, two half-day tournaments a month within 45 minutes of town, and $325 for the whole season. That was less than I’d paid for Lila’s art classes the semester before. I had no idea most clubs offered beginner options that didn’t break the bank.
When Lila walked out, she wiped her sweaty hands on her jeans and said, “I want to do this.” So we signed up. The first month was messy: she forgot her knee pads twice, left her water bottle at the gym every other practice, and came home crying one night after she shanked a serve into the bleachers during a scrimmage and the whole room laughed. I didn’t give her a big pep talk about pushing through or being tough. I just ordered a $12 extra pair of knee pads to keep by the front door, stuck a sticky note that said “V: ball, knee pads, water” on her backpack, and got her the mint chocolate chip ice cream she likes when she’s upset. I didn’t bring up the serve unless she did. She brought it up at breakfast the next day, and said she was going to stay after practice Thursday to work on serving with the coach. That was her call, not mine.
Lila’s always been the kid who won’t ask the teacher for extra help even when she doesn’t get the math homework, who won’t call the pizza place to order because she doesn’t want to talk to a stranger. A month into the season, I started noticing small changes. She was texting her teammates to remind them about practice times, calling to ask for a ride when I had to work late. Last month at our first tournament, her team was down one point in the third set, and she was the last server. She missed the first serve, took a breath, and got the next two in, one landing right in the open back corner no one covered. After they won, she ran over to her teammate who had missed an earlier pass, and pulled her into the huddle. No one told her to do that. It just happened.
I think a lot of parents steer clear of club sports because they picture the elite, expensive version, but that’s not the only option out there. From our first season, there’s a few small, concrete things that made this work for us that I pass along to other parents who ask. First, always test it with a drop-in or open house first before committing to a full season. That $10 fee saved me from wasting money if she hated it. Second, ask explicitly about entry-level or beginner divisions when you reach out to a club. Don’t assume the first option they mention is the only one available. Most coaches would rather put a new kid in a slower division than push them into elite and make them hate the sport. Third, don’t drop hundreds on gear right away. We borrowed a volleyball from a neighbor for the first six weeks, bought cheap knee pads from Amazon, and Lila only bought a new branded ball with her own birthday money once she knew she was sticking with it. Fourth, always tell the coach upfront if your kid is shy or new. That one quick text I sent made Lila feel welcome instead of invisible, which made all the difference.
It’s not all perfect, of course. Last week she had a big science test and practice ran right into study time, so we skipped practice. I didn’t make her go, I told her school comes first, and the coach didn’t even blink. We missed my cousin’s kid’s birthday party last month because of a tournament, and that was a bummer, but we brought a cake to the next family dinner to make up for it. Some weeks it feels like we live in that gym, but Lila keeps saying it’s the first thing she’s ever looked forward to after school, so that’s a trade I’m willing to make right now.
She just got invited to move up to the regional division for next season, and we’re still deciding if it’s the right fit. It’s a little more money, a little more time, and I still worry sometimes that we’re taking on more than she wants. But right now, after dinner every night, she drags her portable net out into the driveway and practices serving until the street lights come on, and yells at my dog when he steals the ball. It’s not the elite volleyball experience I pictured when I first heard the word “club.” It’s just a thing she loves, and that’s more than I expected when I dragged her into that gym back in September.
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