Courts of Chaos: The Systems Beneath the Surface

Part two of the conversation

Jun 15, 2025

When I wrote Courts of Chaos, I didn’t expect the wave that followed—over 2,000 readers in just three days, dozens of shares, and heartfelt responses from coaches, parents, and former athletes.

This isn’t just a hot topic. It’s a collective unease finally surfacing—a shared recognition that the youth volleyball experience, as it stands now, feels unsustainable to many. Not because the sport isn’t beautiful, but because the structure around it often isn’t.

So let’s keep going.

Because when you tug on the thread of tournament culture, the whole system starts to unravel—officiating expectations, holiday intrusions, academic interruptions, financial exploitation, and corporate buyouts. Beneath it all lies a single, urgent question:

Who is this really for?

Why Are Players Officiating?

Let’s start with something few outside the volleyball world even realize:

✏️ Youth players are often expected to officiate other matches when they’re not playing.

Imagine being 15 years old. You just finished an emotional, competitive match. Your body is tired. Your brain is overloaded. You’re probably still processing the last few rallies. And then you’re told: “Great job—now go line judge for an hour.”

No other youth sport does this. And yet, in volleyball, it’s expected. Normalized. Even championed.

We wrap it in language like “team responsibility” or “shared labor.” But what it really is—plain and simple—is unpaid, high-stakes labor. Labor that asks kids to regulate emotions, manage adult confrontations, and bear the brunt of blown calls and frustrated coaches.

If it doesn’t serve the athlete, why are we still doing it?

Not Just a Format Fix—A System Overhaul

In Courts of Chaos, I offered practical tweaks to the structure of tournament days:

4 teams on 2 courts, finishing in under 4 hours
6-team pods with optional crossovers
Local playdays to reduce unnecessary travel

But the real issue is deeper.

How do we reimagine the entire ecosystem to serve players—not profit margins?

Let me share something personal.

I started a club in the same area where I coach high school volleyball. The mission was simple: create a low-cost, high-impact option that respects families’ time, budgets, and energy. We joined our region’s Power League because we’re in the largest metro area in the state. And still, we ended up driving 2 to 4 hours to play matches that either:

Included opponents from our own area, who also made the same trip, or
Offered no different level of competition than we’d get by staying home.

I’m not ignoring that smaller or rural communities may benefit from broader tournament scheduling. But the fact that urban teams are still being pulled into these expensive, time-consuming, and often redundant journeys should make us all ask: who is this really helping?

We could design something more local, more sensible, and more developmentally aligned—if we were willing to let go of the illusion that longer days and longer drives equal better opportunities.

Systemic change requires a coalition of people brave enough to challenge the status quo:

✨ Joy over grind
❤️ Health over visibility
🤝 Connection over convenience
🧠 Development over exposure

And most of all, we need to stop scaring parents into over-committing with the threat of missed opportunities.

You’re not failing your kid if you skip a massive qualifier.
You’re not a bad parent if you prioritize rest, cost, or joy.
You’re not alone if this pace feels like too much.

Let’s build a model that includes more voices—and offers options, not ultimatums.

“But the Kids Love It!”

Here’s the one I hear most often:

“My daughter loves the big tournaments!”

Of course she does. And that joy is real. But let’s not confuse it with justification for the system.

Kids also love Chick-fil-A and pizza. We don’t feed them that every night, because we know better. Because we understand that joy and long-term health aren’t mutually exclusive—they can and should coexist.

When designed thoughtfully, an environment can offer hype and recovery. Competition and care. Fun and sustainability.

Players aren’t wrong for loving the energy. They’re resilient. But that joy doesn’t mean the structure is serving them. It just means they’re surviving it.

Imagine if they loved something even better—because we built it with their whole well-being in mind.

Stop Taking Our Holidays

Let’s be honest. Easter. Mother’s Day. Memorial Day. MLK.

Too often, these sacred calendar slots are claimed by tournaments. And families? They’re expected to show up, pay up, and suck it up.

✨ Family traditions replaced by frantic travel.
✨ Rest traded for noisy warehouses.
✨ Meaningful time diluted by match schedules.

We’ve confused commitment with compliance. Being a “volleyball family” shouldn’t mean sacrificing the actual family.

What message are we sending when the calendar never includes margin?

Choosing to protect your family time isn’t weakness. It’s not a lack of dedication. It’s wisdom. And it should be respected.

And Let’s Talk About School…

Remember the phrase student-athlete?

It’s easy to forget when tournament schedules regularly pull kids from class. Travel days that start on Wednesday or Thursday. Return trips that don’t end until late Sunday or Monday. Class and assignments missed. Learning sacrificed.

Sports are supposed to support a child’s education—not compete with it.

If we truly value growth, we need to build systems where academic success isn’t a casualty of competition. Where young athletes aren’t forced to choose between being a great teammate and being a responsible student. Where being a great student isn’t harder because you choose to play a sport you love.

We’re not there yet.

When Volleyball Becomes a Commodity

Just when you think it can’t get more transactional…

Now we have corporations buying up clubs. Corporations like 3Step Sports and LOVB (League One Volleyball)

They’re promising polished “journeys,” professional-style support, national branding. But beneath the surface, the reality often looks like:

Higher costs
Tighter schedules
More pressure
Less autonomy
Less freedom
Less joy

And here’s the part that stings most:

These companies profit by convincing the 90% they’re part of the 10%—if they just pay enough.

It’s a system that thrives on false urgency. The illusion of exclusivity. The unspoken fear that if you don’t say yes to everything now, you’ll lose everything later.

But that isn’t development. It’s commodification. It’s volleyball rebranded as venture capital.

And the cost? It’s not just money. It’s burnout. It’s dropout. It’s the love of the game.

This Isn’t a Call to Quit Club Volleyball

Let me say this clearly:

❌ This isn’t anti-club. It’s anti-complacency.

Club volleyball has transformed lives. It’s built confidence, friendships, opportunity, and more. But that doesn’t mean it can’t evolve.

✅ I’m saying we should reshape it—intentionally, collectively, and with courage.

Families shouldn’t be forced to choose between full burnout and full withdrawal. Directors shouldn’t be boxed into revenue-first models. There’s another way—and some clubs are already pioneering it.

We already have what we need:

Coaches who care deeply.
Parents who are paying attention.
Players who are still full of love for the game.

All that’s missing is the permission to imagine something better.

So Now What?

Let’s not end this in despair. Let’s end it in design.

✳️ First: Awareness
✳️ Then: Conversation
✳️ Finally: Creation

Build better systems.
Support the clubs doing it differently.
Talk to your players. Listen to their fatigue. Honor their joy.
Create space for more play and less panic.

Youth volleyball isn’t broken because it’s popular.
It’s broken because we stopped asking who it’s really for.

So let’s keep asking.
And then let’s start building.

We owe it to the next generation to do more than just survive the season.
We owe them a game they can still love when it’s over.