On Sports
Or, how doing less might actually mean more.
This might seem like an odd post to kick off the year, but bear with me.
Each year, the cycle begins anew.
We tell ourselves this will be the year.
The year we go to the gym.
The year we lose weight.
The year we finally run the 5K—or the 10K, or whatever goal we’ve been putting off.
But do we ever ask a different set of questions?
Will this be the year I’m more present?
More aware?
More content?
And for those of us who are parents—more connected to our children?
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Belonging and the Sidelines
As a parent, I know the very real pull of wanting your child to be part of the “in group.”
One of the most common ways we try to ensure that is through sports.
I’ll admit—I was never one of those kids.
I didn’t play soccer.
I didn’t join the Boy Scouts.
Those opportunities just weren’t there for me.
But as someone who works closely with parents, I’ve grown increasingly concerned about the commercialization of youth sports and its impact on children—especially when kids mature at different rates and bring different levels of skill to the table.
In my own family, my younger step-brother took after my step-dad.
He had his build.
He had his name.
What he didn’t have was early physical prowess.
Still, as he grew—late middle school into high school—he was able to play football alongside his peers.
Was he first-string? No.
Second-string? Also no.
But he played.
The coach knew his name.
The coach knew he loved the game—even if it was never going to be anything more than that.
And isn’t that the point?
The love of the game—even if you’re not great at it.
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From Neighborhood Game to Private Industry
Over the last twenty-five years, youth sports have quietly shifted from a neighborhood good into a private industry.
Families now spend tens of billions of dollars each year on youth athletics, with the cost of a child’s primary sport rising sharply in just the past few years alone. What was once seasonal and accessible has become a year-round financial commitment—travel fees, hotel stays, private coaching, and tournament costs piling up faster than many families can reasonably absorb.
That pressure doesn’t stop at the balance sheet.
It lands squarely on children already navigating academic stress, social comparison, and an always-online world. As sports move from play to performance—less about belonging and more about résumé-building—the protective benefits we once assumed athletics provided begin to erode.
Along the way, we’ve lost something essential: local, low-cost, community-anchored sports where late bloomers belonged and adults cared as much about character as they did about winning.
What began as opportunity has, for many families, become strain—financially, emotionally, and relationally—right at the intersection where movement, mental health, and connection were meant to help the most.
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Reclaiming Discernment
So how do we stem the tide?
First, we have to ask an honest question: Do the benefits outweigh the costs?
And not just financially.
Is my child—or my family—prepared for the emotional and relational burdens that now come with youth sports? Because at this point, participation is no longer a short-term commitment. It’s a long game.
Second, we have to be willing to pivot.
To look at alternatives to traditional sports.
In my community, one of the most compelling is an organization called Warrior’s Way—a martial arts academy that is, in practice, much more than that.
They offer classes for nearly every age group, host family participation nights, and—responding directly to community needs—created an after-school program that includes school pickup and structured instruction timed with the end of the workday.
All at rates competitive with standard after-school care.
The difference?
The program blends movement, character development, and confidence—without the travel circuit or performance pressure.
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When Money Takes Over
Big money has made a very real dent in youth sports—but it hasn’t stopped there.
This past weekend, the Texas Tech Red Raiders lost decisively to the Oregon Ducks, 23–0.
The architect behind Texas Tech’s recent push toward championship contention is Cody Campbell—a successful businessman, former Red Raider, and former professional athlete.
It’s estimated that Campbell and his hedge-fund partners have funneled nearly $60 million into the football program since 2022, including more than $25 million to rebuild the stadium.
Asked after the loss whether this would change the approach?
“We will double down.”
For parents, it’s worth pausing here.
Texas Tech serves roughly 42,000 students.
The nearly $50 million invested in its football program could have covered four years of tuition for just over 1,000 of them—about one in every forty students on campus.
That’s hundreds of families spared years of financial strain, and hundreds of young adults able to focus more fully on learning than on debt.
When we encourage our children to hustle early, specialize quickly, and treat every season as a stepping stone, it’s fair to ask what we’re modeling.
Are we teaching them that value comes only from winning—or that opportunity grows when we invest first in people?
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Doing Less, Living Better
I know—sports matter.
They’re good for kids.
They teach discipline and teamwork.
And for a very select few, they become a career and a calling.
But we lose something central when money—lots of money—becomes the dominant force shaping sport, all in the effort to secure a win.
We deserve more.
Our children deserve better.
Perhaps by stepping back—by doing a little less—we can reclaim what mattered in the first place: the love of the game, the neighborhood pickup, the joy of movement, the simple connection in belonging with others.
And, most importantly, the quiet contentment that comes from knowing that was enough.