It's not always about coffee

This is maybe my favorite time of year, and for a lot of reasons. The days are getting warmer, the mornings still have that nice coolness, and it feels like an invitation to get back outside to swim, to sit in the sun, to just be present in the season. But more than anything, this time of year means postseason college softball and baseball.

I’ve really come to love both of  these tournaments.  The intensity, the pressure, watching teams struggle, adapt, and sometimes break through. It’s not that different from what makes March Madness so compelling. In some ways, I enjoy it just as much.

What makes it even more meaningful is that my daughter is part of it. She plays at the Division III level, and watching her journey has been one of the great joys of my life. She started at six years old in baseball, eventually moving to softball. I caught for her when she pitched, offered advice when I could, shamed her into practicing when she should be and over time learned the harder lesson of when to keep my mouth shut. That took more discipline than anything else, but ultimately it made me better, not just as a dad, but as a person.

Last night, I watched Texas beat Texas Tech in the D1 softball championship, and I’ll admit I took some satisfaction in that, not because I’m a Texas fan, but because I don't like what I see happening in parts of college athletics today. Texas Tech coach Gerry Glasco, has assembled a roster full of elite talent. Those athletes are incredible top to bottom, skilled, powerful, and impressive in every phase of the game.

To be fair, they’re not doing anything "wrong." They’re operating within the system as it exists now, using the transfer portal and NIL opportunities in ways that programs across college sports are embracing. For the players, the payouts can be (as my wife says) life changing. It can mean graduating debt-free and starting adulthood with real stability for these women.

But for me, it raises questions. I was raised to believe that sports were about the process, about growth, commitment, and shared experience with a group of individuals over time. My dad was a coach, preached that and that philosophy stuck. Watching a team built largely through transactions rather than years of shared effort feels different. Maybe less connected and perhaps missing something harder to define, like chemistry, continuity, a deeper bond.

I don’t pretend to know why those players left their previous programs. I think all of them were already starters at good schools. Maybe they were chasing a championship. Maybe they were seeking better opportunities. That’s their right. But from the outside, it looks like a collection of pieces that don’t quite fit together in the same way a team built over seasons might.

That’s part of why watching my daughter’s experience at the Division III level has been so rewarding. She chose a high-academic school, one that challenged her in the classroom as much as on the field. Finding athletes who can compete at that level and meet those academic standards isn’t easy, which makes what her coach has built even more impressive.

Their season wasn’t perfect. They had ups and downs. They faced adversity. But they grew together.  They were competitive and they earned their way into the playoffs, won their regional, and advanced to the super regionals “the sweet 16.” There, they ran into a team that was simply better, and they got beat. That’s part of it.

One of the ongoing tensions in Division III is the range of schools, some highly selective academically, others let’s just say, more accessible. That creates disparities on the field. But for us, the priority was clear: a strong education and the chance to play in a competitive conference not just sit on the bench at a D1 school.  Division I and II never felt like the right fit for what we valued. Seeing where she is now, grounded, confident, challenged, and part of a "real" team, I have no doubt we made the right choice.

Maybe that’s the contrast that stands out most to me. As big-time college sports evolves, probably drifting further into a transactional model, there’s something deeply meaningful about what can still be found at other levels of the game: connection, growth, joy and a shared journey that isn’t just about winning, but about becoming.