When I was a kid, youth sports felt like a giant fitting room. Stay with me here in the analogy. You could try out this sport, give that one a spin, and figure out what fits – no pressure, no big investment. 

It wasn’t expected for anyone to specialize, really, until high school, and even then, I could be first or second chair in symphonic band and a varsity soccer starter. Somehow, these two activities happily coexisted: band competitions, soccer tournaments, and I did well in school and had a social life. Balance. 

Enter my daughter in seventh grade, now starting to play premier soccer. The demands are absurd. Three practices a week. Weekend tournaments across state lines. And this is not even the top travel division. The cost? Expensive doesn’t begin to cover it. And schedule? A parent’s logistical nightmare. If she also wants to work on individual skills? Well, find time for private drills in the dark of night. 

Rec league used to be about fun, until the serious players siphoned off, and my daughter ended up craving competition she just wasn’t getting there. So she packed up and joined the big leagues. Now? She’s on the college track, and every practice is an audition. One missed beat and you’re benched. 

My son, in fourth grade, found a love for football at recess last year and nearly talked himself out of signing up for fall football this year because he already feels like he’s swimming upstream against kids who have been wearing pads since kindergarten. I’m in the South, my foot is in my mouth, talking about the commitments of football, I already know. But the feeder program commitment level is four practices a week, in addition to games. 

Meanwhile, my youngest is gearing up for her rec soccer season, and I’m bracing for the Saturday scaries. Uber for kids? Just kidding. 

Still, the structure of youth sports feels more like a closed-loop system instead of an expansive runway. It’s draining. Emotionally. Logistically. Financially. 

Despite this, I’m not mad. Because the grit, camaraderie, and confidence kids get from team sports is profound, and I’m watching it unfold in real-time with my kids. They beam with pride when they make the tackle or score a goal. They tell stories about supporting their teammates or making them laugh. They show up to every practice and try hard. I love it for them. 

But here’s my disclaimer. Shouldn’t discovering what fits come before the fast track? According to the NCAA, only about 6 percent of high school athletes make it to college sports. Less than 2 percent of college athletes ever turn pro. It makes these club leagues and feeder programs less of pipelines and more of pressure cookers. 

A small, tiny percentage of these kids are going to be college-level athletes, whether that comes from a lack of desire, burnout, or ability. So why are we treating them that way?  Where’s the middle ground? And why did it shift this way from how it used to be? 

If I ever find out, you’ll be the first to know. 

Mary Cosgrove

Mary Cosgrove has been a journalist for over 20 years, with experience in print and digital journalism and a BA from Auburn University. She is currently a marketing manager and earned her MBA from Kennesaw State University in 2023. She’s the mother of three incredible children and two mildly pleasant cats.