The Author and Coach on Raising Empowered Athletes — and Getting Out of Their Way
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Episode Summary
In Episode 10 of Be Valiant, Todd Merkow welcomes Kirsten Jones — Hall of Fame former Division I collegiate volleyball player at the College of William and Mary, 15-year Nike executive who held leadership roles in brand management, retail, and global marketing while working directly with elite athletes and teams around the world, author of Raising Empowered Athletes: A Youth Sports Parenting Guide for Raising Happy, Brave and Resilient Kids, host of the Raising Athletes with Kirsten Jones podcast, national speaker, workshop leader, and certified peak performance and leadership coach. She and her husband Evan — who played Division III basketball at Johns Hopkins and Division II at UC Davis before playing professionally in Europe — raised three children: CJ, Parker, and Kylie. Two of the three went on to play collegiately. The conversation is one of the most wide-ranging and practically useful in the series.
Kirsten grew up in Montana as a multi-sport athlete — skiing, basketball, horses, tennis, all of it — in a household where her father, a doctor, valued movement but never treated sport as the end-all-be-all. She didn't start playing volleyball until high school, walked on at San Diego State after trying out for the junior national team, and was told by an assistant coach that she was a really good athlete but not yet a very good volleyball player — and that was fine, because they could train her. She eventually transferred to William and Mary, where she had a Hall of Fame career. That experience — arriving late to a sport, being developed as an athlete rather than a specialist — shaped everything she would later write and teach.
At the end of every season, ask your son or daughter: did you have fun? Did you learn something? Did you make some good friends? If they say yeah, that was awesome, I want to do it again — that was a good season.
She and Evan made a conscious, deliberate choice when their kids were young: no club sports until 13, both parents coaching, and a focus on the three F's — friends, fun, and fundamentals. They were living in Buffalo at the time, away from the big markets and the pressure systems that come with them, and they leaned into that. Kirsten is quick to note that the youth sports landscape has changed dramatically even in the decade since she started writing her book — a $20 billion industry in 2017 is now a $43 billion industry — and that the FOMO parents feel today is qualitatively different from anything she or Todd experienced as young parents. The marketing machine that tells families they're already behind, that the train has left the station, is, in her words, really bad marketing. Her antidote: at the end of every season, ask your kid if they had fun, if they learned something, and if they made good friends. If the answer is yes to all three, that was a good season.
If you don't know what your family values are, that's a great conversation starter. Because that will be the north star for making all of these other decisions.
The culture section is grounded in values. Kirsten's framework starts with a simple question: what does your family actually value? Sunday dinners, a weekly movie, a real vacation, sleeping in the backyard — whatever it is, name it, and let it be the north star for every decision that follows. She tells the story of her oldest son missing one practice over Thanksgiving weekend and being benched by his coach for two weeks — not because the punishment was right, but because the family had made a choice, and they had to live with the consequences of it. Her point is not that coaches are always wrong. It is that if you know your values going in, you can respond from a grounded place rather than from panic or guilt.
The section on her daughter Kylie is the most personal in the episode and one of the most honest moments in the entire series. Kirsten grew up tall and athletic and was given opportunities because of it. Kylie was 5'10" — average in today's volleyball world — and came late to the sport. By high school she was shagging balls at 5:30 in the morning six days a week and was the only girl on her club team who never got on the floor, not even for a single serve, across an entire tournament in Kansas City. Kirsten describes needing to take laps around the gym to manage her own emotions. Her advice to Kylie was not to demand playing time but to ask the coach — not today, not tomorrow, but Monday — what she could do to get better so she could be considered for playing time. That distinction, between advocating for development and demanding a result, is one Kirsten returns to throughout the episode.
The self-advocacy section is built around a single word: empowered. Kirsten argues that the muscle of self-advocacy can and should be built as early as seven or eight — going up to a first-grade teacher to say you didn't understand the assignment is the same skill as going up to a coach to ask how to earn more playing time. She role-played conversations with her kids at home, helped them wordsmith what they wanted to say, and sent them in. She was coaching her 22-year-old son Parker — a Division I player at Colgate, injured and feeling down before the season opener against a top-10 team — the week before this episode recorded. She told him to go talk to the coach. He resisted. She role-played it with him. The next day he texted her: it was awesome. The coach had his back. They build things up in their heads, she says, and the conversation almost always goes better than they feared.
The batting lineup is going to be the batting lineup regardless of whether you watch. News flash. Think about the pressure you're putting on your daughter.
The watching-practice section contains one of the episode's most direct pieces of advice: get a hobby. Kirsten describes a mom who called her from Colorado, convinced she needed to be at every softball practice to track the batting lineup. Kirsten told her to go for a run. The mom said, what do you mean? Kirsten said: the batting lineup is going to be the batting lineup regardless of whether you watch. News flash. She also tells the story — drawn from a club director in Texas — of a 12-year-old girl who kept getting placed on the top team because her parents demanded it, but during COVID, when parents couldn't be there, the director pulled her aside and asked what she thought about playing on the second team. The girl said yes, awesome, can I go back out there? That would never have happened with the parents in the room. Kirsten's message: your presence at every practice is not support. It is pressure. Model to your kids that your whole life does not revolve around them.
The specialization section is unambiguous. The American Academy of Pediatrics recommends two months off between seasons. What most kids get is two days. Single-sport athletes are more prone to overuse injury, more prone to burnout, and less complete as athletes. Kirsten's own late start in volleyball — and the fact that she became a Hall of Fame player anyway — is her lived proof. She tells the story of a water polo player who was cut as a junior, pivoted to diving, made a whole new group of friends, and was happier than he had ever been. She tells the story of Kylie, who was getting recruited by Division III schools, broke down crying in a hotel room in Spokane, and said she didn't think she wanted to play in college. The relief on her face when Kirsten said she didn't have to was immediate and total. Three years later, Kylie is in film school, applying everything sport taught her — how to win, how to lose, how to be a teammate, how to work hard — to a new venture.
The mental health section starts with the parent. Kirsten's framework is the tree: the more grounded your roots are as a parent, the better you can hold steady when the winds blow for your child. That means modeling self-care, modeling failure, modeling the fact that things don't always go perfectly. She describes speaking at a school in Lake Tahoe and asking a room of middle schoolers how many of them ever have anxiety. Every single hand went up. Her diagnosis: we have put too much pressure on the outcome, too early, through too narrow a lane. When a child's entire social, mental, and emotional well-being runs through one channel — one sport, one team, one coach's opinion — the pressure becomes unsustainable. The signals to watch for: withdrawal, overwhelm, the inability to separate who they are from what they do. Her prescription: spread out the lanes. Chores, family commitments, friendships, other interests. When one lane isn't going well, the others hold.
Their whole social, mental, emotional well-being is coming through one lane, and it's too much pressure. I asked middle schoolers how many of them ever have anxiety. Every single hand went up.
The Nike section closes the substantive conversation. Kirsten notes that Nike's recent shift from "Just Do It" to "Why Do It" reflects something real: a generation of kids who have been playing a sport since they were three or four and have no idea why. She had a girl tell her she didn't watch soccer when she wasn't playing, didn't have a favorite player, didn't know when she started — it was just something she did. Kirsten's response: help them separate the activity from the identity. At some point you'll stop playing soccer, and that's okay. We don't love you because you play soccer.
The rapid-fire closing is sharp and warm. One word of advice for parents just entering competitive youth sports: breathe — and think about what you want your kids to be saying about this experience twelve years from now. One word describing her parenting style: supportive. Hardest moment as a sports parent: watching Kylie not get on the floor, her own ego hurting alongside her daughter's. One thing she learned as an athlete that shaped her parenting: she was bullied as a big fish in a small pond, and she decided she would never treat other girls the way they treated her — a value that carried through college, through Nike, and into everything she does now. Best thing she ever said to a child after a game: I love to watch you play. One thing she had to unlearn as a sports parent: as much as she loves winning, that's not what this is about. Her definition of being Valiant: lead with your heart — kindness, compassion, holding your head high whether you played well or not, looking the other team in the eye, shaking their hand, and saying good job.
We can love with limits. They need guardrails. But they also need to know we love them unconditionally — not because of what they do, but because of who they are.
Her final thought is the one her oldest son quoted in his prep school interview when asked what he remembered about how his parents raised him. He said his mom used to say: shut up and go work out. She laughed when she read it. Then he clarified: what I meant was you were always pushing me and wanting me to be better. We can love with limits, she says. Their frontal lobes are wide open. They don't have executive functioning yet. They need guardrails. But inside those guardrails, they need to know they are loved unconditionally — not because of what they do, but because of who they are.
Top 5 Takeaways
The three F's are your foundation: friends, fun, and fundamentals. If the team, coach, or club your child is in doesn't center those three things — especially at the youth level — you are in the wrong place. Forget the trophy. Forget the national championship banner. At the end of every season, ask your kid if they had fun, if they learned something, and if they made good friends. If the answer is yes, that was a good season.
Name your family values before the pressure hits. The FOMO that drives so many bad decisions in youth sports is a marketing problem as much as a parenting one. The antidote is knowing what your family actually values — Sunday dinners, a real vacation, a weekly movie night, whatever it is — and letting that be the north star. When a coach punishes your kid for missing Thanksgiving practice, you can respond from your values rather than from guilt.
Build the self-advocacy muscle early. Seven and eight year olds can go up to their teacher and say they didn't understand the assignment. That is the same skill as going up to a coach and asking how to earn more playing time. Don't wait until they're in high school to start building it. Role-play the conversation at home. Help them wordsmith it. Send them in. It almost always goes better than they feared.
Get out of the stands at practice. Your presence at every practice is not support — it is pressure. The batting lineup will be the batting lineup whether you watch or not. What you are modeling when you attend every practice is that your entire life revolves around your child. Go for a run. Read a book. Get a hobby. Give them the space to exist in their sport without your eyes on them.
Don't specialize too early — and don't be afraid to pivot. The American Academy of Pediatrics recommends two months off between seasons. Late starters can become Hall of Fame players. Kids who get cut from one sport find their people in another. The water polo player who pivoted to diving was happier than he had ever been. The volleyball player who didn't want to play in college anymore lit up the moment she was told she didn't have to. Follow the joy.
Spread out the lanes. When a child's entire social, mental, and emotional well-being runs through one channel — one sport, one team, one coach's opinion — the pressure becomes unsustainable. Chores, family commitments, friendships, other interests, even a part-time job: these are not distractions from athletic development. They are the infrastructure that holds a young person together when sport gets hard.
Help them separate the activity from the identity. We don't love you because you play soccer. At some point you will stop playing, and that is okay. The kids who struggle most when sport ends are the ones who never had another lane. Start building the other lanes now, while they are still at home and you still have the dinner table and the car ride and the hike to do it.
Your greatest point of leverage is before you sign. Once your child is on a team, your options narrow. Before you sign — when you are evaluating coaches, clubs, and programs — you have real power. Use it. Ask about development philosophy. Watch a practice. Watch the parents on the sideline. Ask what happens if your child has a mental health issue. The answers will tell you everything you need to know about whether this is the right place for your family.
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