What’s the point?

Every parent of an athlete who truly loves their sport, excels at it, and commits to seeing how good they can become eventually hears some version of this same question:

“What are you trying to do—go pro? Why waste all that time and money?”

And honestly, it bothers me more than it should. Those questions almost always come from insecurity or misunderstanding, but mostly insecurity.

There are countless ways to spend your time on this earth. We don’t question people who camp a lot, or who spend thousands skiing, or who relax at the lake house, or who invest in hunting gear and trips. Nobody asks a camper, “What’s the end goal? Are you trying to get a sponsorship deal?” No one asks a skier, “Are you trying to beat the Norwegians?” Those questions would sound ridiculous.

But parents of committed young athletes get grilled simply because their kids’ activities have measurable milestones—college teams, rankings, maybe even professional paths. And somehow that makes the commitment suspect.

The truth is simple: the point is the journey.

If you have a kid who is genuinely good at a sport and genuinely loves it, it’s fun. It’s fun to watch them develop. It’s meaningful to train with them, push them, support them, and use sport as a vehicle to teach life. These experiences become core memories.

I learned life through sports with my dad. Maybe that’s the way I know how to parent best. Most people in this world have never been close to being really, really good at anything. I’d only say I achieved that in poker and maybe chess. And I have friends who’ve pushed themselves very far—special situations trading, sports gambling, writing, and it’s truly rare and admirable. Teaching kids the level of effort, discipline, and process it takes to achieve something is invaluable. But it’s hard. And it takes time.

My daughter’s team won the Reds Thanksgiving 3v3 tournament recently—third time, no big deal. But I promise you this: when she’s fifty years old, she’ll still remember. And nobody cares but us. We know how good the players were that we were lucky enough to beat and how hard that tourney is to win. We know how much they put in, and how much we put in. As we got out of the car knowing we would be back at it early tomorrow again, I simply asked her, “Who loves it most?” And she said, “Me.” That’s the best.

The point is not the hope of a full-ride to Xavier University or the dream of playing pro. It’s the two-dollar medal collection in the bedroom.

This spring, her team is playing in the Jefferson Cup—a massive challenge and a chance to face several top-20 teams in the country. Again, very few people outside our circle would care if we won. But we care. Because the experience of going, competing, and testing yourself against the best—that is the point.

P.S. This is a soccer-centric blog, but my son probably spent 300 hours on the golf range this summer. Is he trying to make the PGA tour? Is he wasting his life? No, he’s trying to break 40. Then 36. Then 70. Then 70 under pressure. Learning to get good at things? A great way to spend your youth.