Earlier this week, I was out walking with my son when I noticed a house down the street had a new listing sign out front.

I pulled up Zillow before we’d made it to the end of the block.

I looked at the price, thought about what we’re about to list our own house for, and spent the next ten minutes asking myself questions I had no business asking.

What if theirs sells first?

What if ours is priced wrong?

What if buyers who might have wanted our house see theirs and choose it instead?

I know exactly what I was doing. I was comparing. I know how pointless it is - every house is different, every buyer is different, every set of circumstances is different. And I still couldn’t stop myself.

I’m telling you this because I spend a lot of time telling families not to do exactly what I just did.

The comparison trap in recruiting

Recruiting is one of the most comparison-rich environments a teenager can be in.

Commitments go up on Instagram. Your friends get coy if you ask if they’re being recruited by a certain school. Parents talk at tournaments.

A parent whose daughter is a freshman sees a sophomore commit and starts doing math in their head. A junior who hasn’t heard from anyone watches a teammate get three offers in a week and wonders what she’s doing wrong.

None of this information is useful. Most of it is actively misleading. And yet it’s almost impossible to ignore, because the human brain is wired to benchmark. We make sense of where we are by looking at where other people are. It’s just how we’re built.

The problem is that recruiting is one of the worst possible environments for this kind of comparison, because the variables are so numerous and so individual that almost no two processes are meaningfully comparable.

I got a question recently from a parent. They’d heard that timelines for their daughter’s position were typically longer than others. But then they’d seen some data suggesting otherwise, and they wanted to know which was true.

My answer was essentially: it doesn’t matter. Not because the question isn’t understandable - it’s completely understandable - but because knowing the average timeline tells you almost nothing about how your daughter’s process is going to unfold.

Her specific skill set, her academic profile, the positions available at the programs she’s targeting, how many roster spots each coach is trying to fill - none of that is captured in an average. The average is noise. Her process is the signal.

Why “run your own race” doesn’t work on its own

The advice to run your own race has been around forever. I wrote about it before I ever started this newsletter, back when I was just trying to make sense of what I was seeing in recruiting. It’s true advice. Comparison is the thief of joy - the phrase is a cliché because it keeps being right.

But telling someone not to compare is like telling someone not to think about a pink elephant. The instruction produces the opposite effect. You need something to replace the comparison with, not just a directive to stop doing it.

What actually helps, in my experience, is understanding why the comparison is specifically misleading - not just generally unhelpful, but wrong in ways you can point to.

Every recruit is different. Every coach is looking for something different. Every program has different needs in different years. A player who would be an 80% scholarship at one program might be a 20% at another, not because of anything she did or didn’t do, but because of where each program is in its cycle. None of that has anything to do with what someone else is doing.

When you can see clearly why the comparison doesn’t hold, it loses some of its grip.

What you can actually control

This is the bit where I’m supposed to tell you everything is going to work out. I’m not going to do that, because I don’t know if it is, and neither do you, and pretending otherwise doesn’t help anyone.

What I can tell you is that the anxiety you’re feeling - or the anxiety your daughter is feeling - is a completely normal response to a process that is genuinely uncertain, genuinely high-stakes, and genuinely out of your control in most of the ways that matter. The uncertainty is real. The pressure is real. Feeling it doesn’t mean something is wrong.

What it means is that you’re paying attention.

The question is what you do with that attention. Pointed at other people’s timelines and other people’s offers, it just generates noise. Pointed at the things you can actually influence - how she prepares, how she communicates with coaches, how she performs when it matters - it becomes something useful.

June 15 is six weeks away. The next few months are going to feel increasingly loud with commitments and announcements and other people’s news. You don’t have to mute it. You just have to remember it’s not about you.

Run your own race. I know that’s easier said than done. Run it anyway.

Want to write better emails to college coaches? I put together 20 templates covering the situations you’ll actually face across two years of recruiting - frameworks that give you the right structure while keeping your own voice. You’ll also get a free 7-day trial of my AI advisor!

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A few years ago, a player traveled halfway across the country to compete at the Regional Club Championships.

She was already committed, and her college coaches were there to recruit, so they also made sure to watch her games to see how she was progressing.

They wanted to see her in a high-pressure environment, watch how she prepared, how she competed, how she carried herself with her teammates.

She barely got on the field.

They sat at the side of the field for most of the day watching her sit on the bench. And then, before the tournament was over, she left. Packed her bag and walked out on her team mid-event.

It’s easy to want to feel sorry for a player in this situation. They’ve put in the work, attended the same trainings, paid the same fees, and traveled the same distance. The playing time decision wasn’t hers to make.

But RCC is a performance environment. Just like college. So her coaches wondered: what happens if she doesn’t play in college?

That’s ultimately how it played out. A few minutes here and there, but she could never quite establish herself. She transferred before her junior year.

Like those coaches, I’ve seen a version of this story play out more than once.

What coaches are actually doing at these tournaments

RCC and NCC are high-pressure tournaments. The best clubs, the best players, high stakes. College coaches show up specifically to watch players they’re recruiting or players they’ve already committed.

What they don’t control is the lineup.

There’s no doubt that it’s frustrating as a college coach when the player you’re there to see for a given game doesn’t see the field. It’s a fairly common experience though, and when it happens, the coach isn’t necessarily leaving. She’s watching something different than she planned.

She came to evaluate a player’s skill. Now she’s evaluating a player’s character.

What good looks like from the sideline

Coaches notice the player who stays locked in even when she’s not playing. Who tracks the game, talks to her teammates, celebrates the goals, stays physically and mentally present on the bench. Who looks like she belongs even when she’s not on the field.

That player is telling a college coach something important: she knows how to handle adversity. She understands that her job doesn’t start and end with her own playing time. She can separate her frustration from her behavior.

These are not small things at the college level. Rosters carry more players than ever. Playing time is not guaranteed. Depth players matter. The culture of a program is built as much on the bench as it is on the field.

What kills you

The obvious things - sulking, body language, disengagement, checking a phone (yes, this happens more than you'd think) are noticed immediately.

But there are subtler versions that coaches log too when they spot them. The player who stops communicating with teammates. The one who goes through the physical motions of being present but has clearly checked out mentally; it’s written all over their face. The one who leaves early.

None of these are necessarily disqualifying in isolation. Coaches understand frustration. They’ve felt it themselves. But they’re also building a picture of how a player responds when things don’t go her way - because things won’t always go her way in college either.

The part nobody wants to say out loud

Here’s the uncomfortable truth underneath all of this: sometimes you simply don’t play, and it isn’t fair, and the decision wasn’t yours to make.

Club coaches set lineups for their own reasons - winning, development priorities, rotation philosophy, internal politics. A college coach watching from the stands has no control over any of that.

But she’s still watching.

And the player who understands that - who competes for her team even when her team isn’t competing for her playing time - is the one who doesn’t give a college coach a reason to start asking questions.

RCC and NCC are a few weeks away. If you’ve been selected for a roster, it’s no guarantee you get on the field. And you should know that recruitment doesn’t pause when you’re on the bench. In some ways, it’s only just beginning.

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Two offers arrived in the same week.

School A: 40% scholarship. School B: 25% scholarship.

Most families look at those numbers and move quickly. School A is the better offer. Done.

Except School A has a cost of attendance of $60,000. School B’s is $90,000.

School A’s 40% is worth $24,000 a year. School B’s 25% is worth $22,500. They’re almost identical — and once you factor in that School B has a stronger academic merit aid program your daughter qualifies for, School B might actually cost your family less out of pocket.

What cost of attendance actually means

Every school publishes a Cost of Attendance figure - the total estimated annual cost of being a student there, covering tuition, room and board, books, fees, and personal expenses.

This is the number an athletic scholarship percentage is calculated against, and it varies enormously. A mid-major public university might have a COA of $35,000. A private school in a major city could be $85,000 or more.

That gap matters more than almost anything else when you’re comparing offers.

A 50% offer at a $40,000 school is $20,000 a year. A 30% offer at an $80,000 school is $24,000. When families don’t convert percentages into dollars first, they make decisions based on a number that tells them almost nothing useful.

A higher scholarship dollar amount doesn't automatically mean a better deal. A 30% offer at an $80,000 school is more money than a 30% offer at a $40,000 school — but the family at the expensive school is still paying more out of pocket unless the rest of their package closes the gap.

That's why net cost is the only number worth comparing. Two families can receive identical scholarship percentages and end up in completely different financial situations depending on where they're going.

The psychology of the bigger number

There’s something else worth naming, even though nobody talks about it.

When a coach offers 40%, it feels like more. Not just financially - it feels like a stronger statement of belief. Like they want your daughter more. The family that receives 25% can know intellectually that the net cost works out better, and still feel like they’re somehow settling.

That feeling is real, and it’s worth acknowledging rather than pretending the math is enough to override it. Scholarship percentage has become a proxy for how much a program values your daughter as a player - and when families choose to think about it that way, higher is always better regardless of what the number actually represents in dollars.

The problem is that the percentage reflects two things simultaneously: how much a coach values you, and how much their budget is already committed elsewhere.

A coach at a top program competing for championships might offer 20% and mean it as genuine praise. A coach at a program that’s in a rebuild might offer the same player 70% because they would have higher on-field value to them.

Every coach thinks about scholarship differently, and adapts their recruiting strategy to suit; I plan to cover this in more detail in a future newsletter.

Either way, because you can’t know their philosophy, budget, or how they’re choosing to spend it across a class or a roster, the best bet is to pay attention to what the scholarship percentage number does tell you.

When converted to actual dollars and set against the full financial picture, it tells you what you’re going to pay. That’s the number that matters four years from now.

Read more

Most families trying to play in D1 or D2 hear a scholarship number and spend the next week trying to figure out if they can make it work.

That’s the wrong starting point. The number you’ve been given isn’t the number that matters. What matters is what you’ll actually pay - and those two things are often very different.

Three pools of money

College coaches in equivalency sports - which field hockey is - don’t have unlimited money. They have a scholarship budget, and they have to build the best possible roster with it. Every dollar they commit to one player is a dollar they can’t give to another.

What most families don’t realize is that there are three separate pools of money available to a college athlete, and they work very differently.

Athletic aid comes directly from the coach’s budget. This is the percentage number they mention - 25%, 40%, whatever it is. It’s pulled from a fixed pool the athletic department controls, and it has to stretch across the entire roster.

Academic merit aid comes from the institution - the admissions or financial aid office, not the athletic department. If your daughter qualifies for this based on her GPA and test scores, that money typically doesn’t cost the coach anything. It exists independently of whatever athletic offer is on the table.

Need-based aid works similarly. It flows from the institution or federal government based on your family’s financial situation, largely driven by what you submit on the FAFSA. Again, it generally doesn’t touch the coach’s athletic budget.

Whether these sources can be combined - and how - varies by school. There’s no universal rule. Some schools stack them freely. Others have limits. Asking each school directly what’s available for someone with your daughter’s academic profile is one of the most important financial conversations you can have.

One more thing worth knowing before we get into how coaches think about this. The House settlement - the landmark legal case that reshaped college athletics in 2025 - increased the maximum number of scholarships available in D1 field hockey from 12 to 27.

Most families saw that headline and assumed it meant more money flowing into the sport. The reality is more complicated. A handful of programs increased. Many others stayed flat or quietly reduced, as institutional resources shifted toward revenue-sharing obligations in football and basketball.

And with rosters now potentially carrying up to 27 players, some coaches are spreading the same budget - or less - across more athletes than before. Nobody publishes their numbers. You won't find this information on any athletic department website, and most coaches won't volunteer it.

What you can control is how well you understand the other two pools of money available to you - because whether a program's athletic budget went up, down, or sideways, the academic merit and need-based aid picture is yours to explore regardless. A modest athletic offer from a program that's stretched thin looks very different once you know what else might be available to stack on top of it.

What this looks like from the coach’s side

A recruit who qualifies for $15,000 in academic merit aid is, in a practical sense, $15,000 cheaper to recruit than one who doesn’t.

The coach can offer less athletic money and still put together a package that makes the school affordable. Or they can offer the same athletic money and the family ends up with a significantly better deal. Either way, the coach’s budget goes further.

I’ve watched this calculation happen in real time. When a recruit has a strong academic profile, it genuinely shifts what a coach thinks they can offer. Not because they value her more as a player - but because she’s easier to fit into the budget.

For any offer short of a full ride - which is most of them in field hockey - the coach will typically point you toward academic and need-based aid as part of building the full picture. That’s not a signal of anything other than how the system works. The athletic number and the institutional aid number are separate conversations with separate parts of the university, and a good coach will help you navigate both.

What to do with this

If you are a strong student, that’s not a fallback talking point for when recruiting doesn’t go the way you hoped. It’s a financial asset - to the coach building a roster on a budget, and to your family trying to make the numbers work.

That’s why you mention your GPA in your emails, on your profiles, your website - anywhere a coach might look before starting to recruit you.

And when offers arrive, ask each school the same question: what other aid might be available to someone with your academic profile? Many families never ask. The ones who do often find the picture looks very different than the headline number suggested, and that they have more room to negotiate than they thought.

In Thursday’s newsletter, I’ll outline how to actually compare what you’ve been offered across schools, and why the percentage is usually the least useful number in that conversation.

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Want to write better emails to college coaches? I put together 20 templates covering the situations you’ll actually face across two years of recruiting - frameworks that give you the right structure while keeping your own voice. You’ll also get a free 7-day trial of my AI advisor!

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Most recruiting emails fail the 30-second test.

Not because the player is untalented. Not because the email is badly written. Because it sounds exactly like the 40 other emails that coach received this week.

Same opening. Same bio dump. Same “I love your school’s balance of academics and athletics.”

We see the font change where you swapped in our name. We notice when the coach name and the school name don’t match. We can tell when you wrote to everyone, which means you wrote to no one.

The emails we remember are different. They show us you actually watched our games. They sound like a real person, not a recruiting robot. They include the right information in the right order so we can get everything we need in 30 seconds.

I built a system for writing those emails.

It’s called the 6-Part Email Framework, and it’s the backbone of my new toolkit: Emails Coaches Actually Read.

Here’s what’s inside:

The 6-Part Email Framework — the structure that works for almost every recruiting situation, from first contact to handling an offer.

20 situation-specific templates — including the moments families feel most stuck:

• Handling Silence / Lack of Response

• Asking About Financial Aid / Scholarship

• Final Push / Last Chance

• Respectfully Declining Offer

• After Receiving Offer

• Injury / Setback Update

...and 14 more covering everything from first contact to summer training updates, all in an easy-to-access Notion database:

These aren’t scripts. If you copy-paste them, your emails will sound like everyone else who bought this product. They’re frameworks - they show you the structure, the key elements, the flow. You still have to sound like yourself.

That’s the whole point. Authenticity beats polish every time.

Get Emails Coaches Actually Read for $25

Rory McIlroy led the 2026 Masters by 6 strokes after 36 holes last Friday evening - the biggest margin in 90 years of tournament history at the halfway mark.

Then came Day 3: three bogeys, a double bogey, his entire lead erased. He entered the final round tied for first.

Day 4 started worse. More erratic play. By hole 6, McIlroy was multiple shots back.

Everyone has a version of this in recruiting.

You sent 50 emails. Zero responses.

You played well at a showcase. The coaches who said they’d watch didn’t show.

Your top school went quiet after months of consistent contact.

You watch Instagram as teammates commit to schools you thought were recruiting you.

The question isn’t whether recruiting will go sideways. It’s what you do when it does.

Stop the descent

As Brad Stulberg wrote, McIlroy’s demeanour stayed remarkably consistent through the ups and downs of his Masters weekend:

Throughout McIlroy’s collapse and recovery, one thing remained constant: No thrown clubs. No screaming or shouting. No poor body language. Just a relentless focus on the next shot - whether it was from the sand, wood chips, gallery, behind a tree, or whatever other predicament he found himself in. He hung in there. He stopped the descent. He prevented his bad holes from becoming awful holes.

What most families do when recruiting goes quiet:

• Panic-email new schools they haven’t researched

• Lower their target list overnight

• Abandon the process that got them this far

• Convince themselves they’re not good enough

This is outcome thinking. When the outcome isn’t happening, you spiral.

Don’t let a quiet month become a lost year.

The same weekend, 600 miles away, Wout van Aert won Paris-Roubaix - one of cycling’s most brutal one-day races - after years of near-misses and setbacks.

The interviewer said: “You never stopped believing.”

Van Aert corrected him: “I did, I did stop believing. But then the next day I woke up and fought for it again.”

That’s the point.

You don’t have to be positive all the time. You don’t have to pretend setbacks don’t hurt.

But you do have to show up the next day and do the work anyway.

Process over prize

Throughout the final round, McIlroy kept pulling himself back to a simple mantra: “Process over prize.”

Not “I need to win.” Not “I can’t let this slip away.” Just focus on the next shot.

Here’s why that works: When you fixate on outcomes you can’t control - winning, getting offers, where you’ll commit - your brain treats it as a threat. You get anxious. You second-guess. You tighten up.

When you focus on what you can control - your next email, your next conversation, your next training session - your brain treats it as a challenge. You stay present. You stay engaged.

The difference shows up in performance. Research consistently finds that outcome-focused athletes experience more anxiety and perform worse under pressure. Process-focused athletes stay calmer and execute better when it matters.

But here’s the catch: You can’t just call upon a process mindset when recruiting goes sideways and expect it to work.

McIlroy didn’t develop that mantra on the back nine at Augusta. It’s been his practice for years. When things were going well, when things were falling apart, same focus: the process.

It famously took years for him to get the desired outcome; he blew a four-shot lead at the Masters in 2011, and lost while playing in the final group in 2018. He only got over the line in 2025, but now he’s one of just four back-to-back winners ever.

The families who weather recruiting adversity are the ones who’ve been doing the work all along. They communicate consistently, not just when panicking. They develop skills year-round, not just before showcases. They build relationships, not just send transactional emails when they need something.

What process actually means in recruiting

It’s not “stay positive” or “trust the journey” or “it’ll work out.” Those are platitudes, not process.

Process is sending one well-researched email per month to schools on your target list. Having one conversation with your club coach about feedback from coaches. Working on one technical weakness coaches have identified. Watching film of one game with a notepad and some intention.

Small actions. Repeated. Regardless of immediate results.

You can’t control whether coaches respond. You can’t control who enters the transfer portal. You can’t control when a program has budget or roster spots. Sometimes you do everything right, and the outcome still doesn’t go your way.

All you can control is your process. How you show up in the next moment. The next action you take.

The bottom line

Van Aert stopped believing. Then woke up and fought for it again. McIlroy focused on the next shot, not the prize.

Both won. Not because adversity didn’t hit them. Because they knew what to do when it did.

The process doesn’t guarantee the outcome. But it gives you the best shot at it.

When recruiting is going well, focus on the process. When recruiting isn’t going well, focus on the process.

One part of the process that families consistently get wrong is communication. Not because they don't try - because they don't know what to say, or when, or how to say it without sounding like every other recruit in a coach's inbox. I put together 20 templates covering the situations you'll actually face across two years of recruiting - frameworks that give you the right structure while keeping your own voice.

Get Emails Coaches Actually Read for $25

Want more help? I built an AI agent trained on all my writing and knowledge that can answer your recruiting questions 24/7 — with a 7-day free trial

Try The Recruiting Advisor for free

June 15 hits, and in between calls with college coaches, you check Instagram.

There it is. A commitment announcement.

A player you competed against at tournaments. A player whose recruiting timeline seemed identical to yours just days ago.

And suddenly you’re wondering: How did this happen so fast? Did I miss something? Am I already behind?

Welcome to the most anxiety-inducing day in field hockey recruiting.

But here’s what most families don’t understand: those early commitments aren’t magic. They’re not cheating. And they’re definitely not the standard everyone else should be measuring themselves against.

They’re the result of a very specific set of circumstances that almost never applies to you.

Let me show you exactly how early commitments happen - and why you shouldn’t try to replicate them.

The dream school alignment

Every early commitment starts with the same foundation: mutual alignment that happens to exist before June 15 even arrives.

The player has a clear #1 school. Not “top three” or “really like them” - a genuine dream school where everything fits. The academics. The location. The coaching style. The team culture.

And that school? They have that player as a top recruiting target. Not “on our list” or “we’re interested” - they want her specifically, and they’ve known it for months.

This alignment is rare.

Most recruiting takes time precisely because this alignment doesn’t exist naturally. You need conversations to figure out if it’s there. You need visits to test whether what you think you want actually matches reality. You need offers from multiple programs to compare options.

But when alignment exists from day one, the process looks completely different. And you can’t manufacture it.

The relationship foundation

Here’s what the outside world doesn’t see: these “instant” commitments aren’t instant at all.

The player spent the last few summers at camps on that campus. She’s been coached by the staff multiple times. She knows what practice feels like under that coach. She’s met the current players. She’s eaten in the dining hall. She’s walked through the academic buildings and stayed in the dorms.

By the time June 15 arrives, she’s already experienced everything that other recruits are still trying to figure out through the recruiting process.

The official recruiting conversations couldn’t happen until now because of NCAA rules. But the relationship building? That started years ago.

So when June 15 hits and the coach finally gets to say “We want you here” - there’s no hesitation. Because the player already knows exactly what she’d be signing up for.

The recruiting process didn’t get accelerated. It just happened through a different channel.

The offer timing

When coaches call their number one recruit on June 15, that first conversation doesn’t always start with “We’d love to get to know you better.”

It starts with: “You’re our top recruit. Let me walk you through exactly what we can offer you.”

The coach lays out the full picture on that call. Here’s the scholarship breakdown. Here’s where we hope you’ll fit in the lineup. Here’s what we see for your development. Here’s the timeline we’re working with.

Most programs don’t operate this way with most recruits. Most coaches want multiple conversations over weeks or months. They want to see you at more events. They want you on campus for a visit. They want time to evaluate whether you’re the right fit.

And most families don’t want to make such a quick decision either. They need time to process information. They want to compare multiple programs. They want their daughter to experience different campus cultures before committing. The idea of deciding in a day feels reckless rather than decisive.

But for a program’s absolute number one target? Sometimes they skip straight to the full pitch on day one.

Because here’s the calculation: if they wait to go through a traditional recruiting process, they might lose her to another school. And they don’t want to compete for her - they want to lock her in.

So they compress what would normally be a months-long conversation into a single phone call.

Read more

I’ve been in England for the past week with the USA U18 Women’s National Team - I’m writing this from the airport in London.

Twenty of the best field hockey players in the country. Current and future D1 recruits. Many will play for top programs.

And most of the players on this roster play the exact same position for their high school team.

Attacking central midfielder.

The star role. The playmaker. The one who touches the ball most and gets the stats that fill recruiting profiles.

We joked as coaches that on some high school teams, this player is asked to take the 16s, move the ball upfield, and put the ball in the goal.

On tour, players used to being a central midfielder had to learn how to play out wide. Some ended up doing minutes up front or in defense.

That positional flexibility had to develop fast for players who’d spent years perfecting one role.

It reminded me of something I learned the hard way 15 years ago.

The position I thought I’d play

I was a center back my entire, undistinguished field hockey career.

That’s what I was relatively good at. That’s what I’d trained for. That’s the role I understood.

When I finally broke into the first team at my club, I thought I knew how it would go. I’d compete for a spot in the back line. Maybe start on the bench, work my way up, and eventually earn my place.

Then the coach pulled me aside.

“You’re not going to play center back here. The guys ahead of you are better, and that’s not changing anytime soon.”

I started to process what that meant - probably sitting on the bench, maybe getting garbage minutes late in games we’d already won or lost.

Then he said: “But you could do a job for us as a forward.”

I thought he was joking.

I wasn’t a goalscorer. I couldn’t eliminate defenders one-on-one. I didn’t have the technical ability that the talented attacking players had.

But he didn’t need me to do any of that.

What the team actually needed

Here’s what the coach saw that I didn’t:

Our most talented attacking players were flaky. Brilliant on their day, but inconsistent. They’d drift out of games. Stop working when things got hard. Play as individuals instead of as a team.

What we needed up front wasn’t another goalscorer. We had those.

We needed someone who would organize the more talented players in the press and bring them into the game. Someone who would do the unglamorous work that created space for others to shine.

My job wasn’t to score goals. It was to make the team function.

So I learned to play forward. Not the way a natural striker plays - I was never going to be that player. But in a way that solved the specific problem this team had.

When generalization beats specialization

A coach’s job is to make the decision that’s in the best interests of the team. Not necessarily the one that’s in your best interests, or their own.

So you might arrive in college as an attacking center mid, but find yourself asked to play right back. Or left forward.

It happens more often than you think. I had a player in college who was a forward by trade, but was quite far down the depth chart in what was the team’s strongest line.

When a long-term injury opened up a slot at half-back, we sounded her out. Initially, she was reticent. She’d built her entire identity around being a forward. That’s what college coaches had recruited her for.

The first few weeks were rough. Different spacing. Different timing. Different responsibilities. She was learning a position she’d never played.

But something shifted. She worked hard on the biggest holes in her game for that role - her long passing and individual defense. She could already eliminate in tight spaces, so being up against the sideline wasn’t an issue.

Having spent her first two years on the bench getting minimal to zero minutes, she started at right back for what was then the program’s most successful season to date.

The key was her willingness to embrace a new role and the discomfort that comes with it - just like some of the USA U18 girls had to do this week.

Your value to a program isn’t determined by how good you are at one position. It’s determined by how many problems you can solve.

Injuries happen. Tactics shift. Matchups demand adjustments. The difference between those who get into the lineup and those who don’t might not be talent - it could be mindset. Some players see positional flexibility as an opportunity; others see it as a threat to their identity.

Why youth sport creates this problem

Club coaches and high school coaches also want to win games. So they put their best players in positions where they can have the most impact. The talented center midfielder stays at center midfielder. The skilled forward stays at forward.

Nobody’s rotating the star player out wide or asking her to learn defense. Why would they? She’s dominating where she is.

And families see their daughter scoring goals or running the midfield, and think: “This is her position. This is what will get her recruited.”

So by the time players reach national team camps or college recruiting, they’ve spent years perfecting one role.

But when college coaches are evaluating, they’re also wondering: Can you adapt? Can you learn? Can you make yourself useful when Plan A doesn’t work?

What you can do about it

Ask your club coach if you can train in different positions during practice. Not in games if they need you in your primary role. But in training, push yourself to learn different lines.

Because when you get to college, the coach who recruited you as a midfielder might need you at forward. The system might change. The starter ahead of you might be better than expected.

And if your response is “that’s not my position,” you’re going to lose playing time to someone who says “I’ll figure it out.”

When roster decisions get made - when coaches are choosing between two equally talented players - the question isn’t “Who’s better at this one position?”

It’s “Who can do what’s needed to help the team win?”

On the USA U18 team, a couple of center midfielders played on the outside; another played as a forward. A player who was an attacking center midfielder two years ago played left and right back.

It’s not about being mediocre at everything. It’s about being excellent at your primary position while staying capable everywhere else.

Stop optimizing yourself for one position. Start making yourself irreplaceable.

Want more help? I built an AI agent trained on all my writing and knowledge that can answer your questions 24/7, whether you’re still on the recruiting trail or getting ready for college. Get instant access to insider recruiting guidance built on 15+ years of club, NCAA, and international coaching experience, with a 7-day free trial.

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If you’ve been watching NCAA basketball this month, you’ve seen it.

Coaches getting intense with players. Nose-to-nose conversations. Voices raised. Standards enforced in real time.

And like always, people had opinions.

“Too intense.” “Not how you coach anymore.” “You can’t talk to players like that.”

But here’s what the viral clips don’t show: whether that intensity actually connects with the players or just isolates the coach.

You can’t tell from a 10-second video whether Brenda Frese’s moment with Oluchi Okananwa was productive coaching or just yelling. You need context. You need to see the relationship. You need to watch how the players respond.

And if you’re a recruit evaluating programs, that’s exactly what you should be watching.

Steve Magness wrote an excellent breakdown of Brenda Frese's coaching moment — how she disrupted Okananwa's spiral with eye contact, belief, and agency. It's worth reading.

But as a college coach, I want to add something Steve didn't address: what happens when you're evaluating a coach and you don't have that full context yet.

What productive intensity looks like

When you’re on a campus visit, you’ll watch practice. You’ll see the coach bring intensity at some point - corrections, standards being enforced, maybe some raised voices.

Many recruits watch the coach and think: “Is she too intense for me? Could I handle that?”

That’s the wrong question.

The right question is: “Do the players respond to that intensity, or do they retreat from it?”

Because intensity isn’t the problem. Disconnected intensity is.

Watch the players’ body language when the coach brings intensity.

Do they lock in and refocus? Or do their shoulders drop and their eyes go elsewhere?

When the coach corrects someone’s positioning, does that player adjust immediately? Or does she nod and keep doing the same thing?

After an intense moment, does the energy in practice lift or flatten?

These signals tell you whether the intensity connects or isolates.

The conversation that reveals everything

After practice, when you meet with current players, pay attention to how they talk about their coach.

Not the rehearsed answers they give when coaches are in the room. The real conversation when it’s just you and them.

Do they say “She’s tough but fair” or do they say “She just yells at everyone”?

Do they talk about specific things they’ve learned, or do they talk about walking on eggshells?

Do they speak with respect, or do they speak with resignation?

The players who thrive under intense coaching will tell you what makes it work: “He pushes us, but he cares about us, and shows it in how he connects with us outside hockey.” “She’s hard on the stuff that matters - effort, communication, being where you’re supposed to be.” “When he corrects you, it’s because he’s trying to make you better, not because he’s mad.”

The players who are surviving, not thriving, will tell you a different story: “She has her favorites.” “Nothing you do is ever good enough.” “She doesn’t really know us.”

The red flags you can’t ignore

Here’s what should concern you during a visit:

Players go silent when asked about their coach. Not “she’s great” rehearsed responses - actual silence. Long pauses. Careful wording. That tells you something.

Players can’t give specific examples of what they’ve learned. If they can’t articulate what makes their coach effective beyond “she knows the game,” that’s a gap.

The coach dominates every conversation. During your visit, do players get to talk? Or does the coach answer every question, interrupt their responses, speak for them?

Current players look exhausted, not energized. There’s a difference between the tiredness that comes from working hard and the weariness that comes from being beaten down.

Players don’t connect with each other. Watch how they interact before and after practice. Do they joke around, support each other, communicate freely? Or do they keep their heads down and scatter as soon as practice ends?

These aren’t about whether the coach is intense or calm. They’re about whether the intensity - however much or little there is - actually serves the players.

Why this matters for you

College coaches are going to be intense about controllable things.

Your effort level. Your communication. Your positioning. Whether you’re where you’re supposed to be when you’re supposed to be there.

These are non-negotiables. If you can’t handle direct feedback about the controllables, you’ll struggle in college hockey.

After a clinic on transition defense, where the players looked tired after a deliberately chaotic, high-intensity session, my message to the group was simple: “If you didn’t enjoy this, D1 field hockey may not be for you.”

But there’s a difference between intensity that’s grounded in development and intensity that’s just noise.

Productive intensity is specific. It names what you did wrong and what you need to do instead. “You’re three yards too high - drop to the 25 and hold” is coaching. “What are you doing out there?” is just frustration.

Productive intensity is about the action, not the person. “That pass needs to be out in front of her next time” is different from “You always make bad decisions under pressure.”

Productive intensity includes belief. The best intense coaches let you know they’re pushing you because they believe you can handle it, not because they think you’re failing.

How to prepare yourself

If you want to play college hockey, you need to be able to receive intense coaching about controllable things.

That means practicing now.

When your club coach corrects your positioning, do you adjust immediately or do you get defensive?

When someone challenges your effort level, can you hear it without shutting down?

When feedback is direct - not mean, just direct - does it motivate you or deflate you?

The players who transition smoothly to college are the ones who’ve learned to separate “my coach is challenging me” from “my coach doesn’t believe in me.”

They understand that intensity about controllables isn’t personal. It’s developmental.

The ones who struggle are the ones who’ve only been coached gently. Who’ve been celebrated more than challenged. Who interpret any direct feedback as an attack.

What to watch for on your visits

Don’t just watch the coach. Watch the players.

Do they respond to intensity, or do they retreat from it?

Do they speak highly of their coach when she’s not in the room?

Can they articulate specific things they’ve learned?

Do they connect with each other, or are they isolated?

These signals tell you more than any 10-second viral clip ever could.

Because intensity isn’t the issue. The question is whether that intensity connects with players and serves their development.

Or whether it just makes the coach feel better while the players try to survive.

Want more help? I built an AI agent trained on all my writing and knowledge that can answer your questions 24/7, whether you’re still on the recruiting trail or getting ready for college. Get instant access to insider recruiting guidance built on 15+ years of club, NCAA, and international coaching experience, with a 7-day free trial.

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You committed in January.

By March, something changed. Not all at once - just a slow drift.

You used to be first to practice. Now you’re rolling in right as it starts, sometimes a few minutes late.

You used to demand more from teammates when drills got sloppy. Now you let it slide. Everyone’s tired. It’s just club practice.

You used to ask your coach for extra feedback after training. Now you nod along, say “sounds good,” and head home.

The excuses come easy:

“I don’t get challenged here anymore.”

“I’m sick of hearing the same thing from the same coaches.”

“The younger players don’t know what they’re doing.”

Your club coach has seen this pattern before. The U19 group is the hardest to coach every year - not because they lack talent, but because the players who should be setting a standard of excellence instead set a standard of apathy and complaining.

You’re coasting. And nobody’s calling you out on it.

That’s the problem.

The incentive misalignment nobody talks about

After you commit, the system stops rewarding people for telling you the truth.

Your club coach sees the drop in intensity. She notices you’re coasting. But she doesn’t want to risk losing you to another club before you graduate. The placement looks good on the club owner’s resume. Why create conflict by demanding more when you don’t have long left anyway?

Your parents want to enjoy this moment. They’ve spent years stressed about recruiting. Now that it’s done, they don’t want to be the ones bringing up problems. When they see you skipping optional training or half-assing drills, they convince themselves it’s fine. You’ve earned a break.

Your high school coach needs you to win games. He’s not going to bench you for lack of effort when you’re still the best player on the field. Rebuilding your habits or questioning your commitment creates short-term performance drops he can’t afford.

Even your future college coaches have limited incentive or ability to push you hard right now. They can’t work with you directly yet. You’re not their problem until August of your freshman year.

You’re the main person who can benefit from your continued development. But you’re the least equipped to evaluate yourself objectively.

So the intensity drops. The standards slip. And everyone lets it happen.

The exercise that surfaces real weaknesses

Here’s what works.

Read more

The Instagram post got more likes and comments than anything you’ve ever posted. Your parents finally stopped asking “have you heard anything?”. Your club coach posted the graphic celebrating another college placement.

You did it.

After years of tournaments, camps, emails, and visits that made your stomach turn, you finally have your answer. The relief is real and the validation feels really good.

You got what you want - but the hardest part is just beginning.

The commitment paradox

Most players treat commitment as the finish line.

It’s actually the starting gun.

You’ve earned the right to compete at the next level. But you haven’t earned your spot on the field yet. And there’s a reason they call it the “next level”:

The speed of play jumps dramatically. Tactical complexity increases exponentially. Physical demands are unlike anything you’ve experienced. Mental resilience gets tested daily.

Right now, you’re probably the star of your high school team. The one coaches rely on. The player parents recognize. You’re competing against 15-18 year olds who’ve mostly played against other American high schoolers.

Your future teammates? They’re 18-22 year olds who’ve been training at college intensity for at least a year. They already know every pressing trigger, every tactical nuance, every penalty corner variation. Some of them have been playing against adults since age 15.

While you’ve been the go-to player, they’ve been learning to be role players in complex systems. While you’ve been dominating mediocre high school competition, they’ve been adapting to the pace and physicality of college hockey.

Come August of freshman year, you’ll be one of the youngest players on the roster with a lot to learn.

This isn’t meant to discourage you. It’s meant to prepare you for a fundamental shift in your identity as a player.

The silent killer

After your final high school season ends, something shifts.

The emotion of your last game. The relief of being done with recruiting. The excitement of senior spring events - prom, graduation parties, college decision day celebrations.

It’s natural to want to celebrate these milestones. You should.

But many players unconsciously treat senior spring as a victory lap. The motivation that drove you through recruiting starts to fade. Club practice feels less urgent now that you’ve “made it.” Your environment likely doesn’t push you like it used to.

You’ve reached the top of the tree. It’s understandable that intensity drops.

But understandable doesn’t mean it won’t hurt you.

Every year, college coaches watch freshmen arrive who assumed their commitment meant they were ready. They “did the fitness packet” but still struggle with the run test. They thought they were in shape, but fall behind the pace at practice. They believed they were coachable, but bristle when a 21-year-old junior corrects their positioning.

The gap between high school star and college contributor is wider than most players realize. And the players who close that gap fastest are the ones who start preparing the moment they commit - not the moment they arrive on campus.

What committed players get wrong

Here’s the trap: you think you’re preparing because you’re still playing.

You’re going to practice. You’re playing in tournaments. You might even be lifting weights or working with a trainer.

But are you demanding more from yourself than you did before you committed? Or are you doing the same things with less intensity?

Are you treating practice as a place to maintain what you have? Or a laboratory to develop what you need?

Are you showing up because it’s on the schedule? Or because you’re building habits that will serve you in August when nobody’s watching?

This matters because your future coaches aren’t evaluating you against who you were. They’re evaluating you against who you need to become.

The identity shift nobody prepares you for

For years, your identity has been built around being one of the best players in your environment.

You’re about to enter an environment where everyone was one of the best players in their environment.

The freshman who can’t let go of being “the star” struggles. The one who arrives ready to earn her spot thrives.

This doesn’t mean you should doubt yourself or downplay what you’ve accomplished. Your recruitment proved you belong.

But belonging and contributing are different things.

You belong because of what you’ve done. You’ll contribute because of what you do next.

What to do about it

The players who make the smoothest transition to college don’t rely on talent alone.

They build systems before they need them. They seek out truth-tellers who’ll identify their weaknesses now rather than waiting for college coaches to expose them later. They guard against the entitlement that creeps in when success comes easily.

They understand that commitment is permission to compete - not a guarantee of anything beyond that.

If you’re reading this and thinking “I don’t want to coast through senior year” or “I want to be ready when I get there,” good. That mindset alone puts you ahead.

The question is: what are you going to do about it?

On Thursday, I'm sending paid subscribers a framework for finding truth-tellers: how to identify the people who will actually tell you what you need to work on and the specific questions to ask that surface real weaknesses. If you want to know what you need to fix before your coaches tell you in preseason, this one's for you.

Want more help with recruiting? I built an AI agent trained on all my writing and knowledge that can answer your questions 24/7. Get instant access to insider recruiting guidance built on 15+ years of club, NCAA, and international coaching experience, with a 7-day free trial.

Try The Recruiting Advisor for free

Allison Keefe from The Field Hockey Analyst recently published a piece about when it’s time to leave your team.

She’d told me she was going to write it, and I was excited to read it. She outlined valid reasons: toxic coaching, no longer improving, financial strain, and misaligned goals.

Allison made the arguments for switching. But as someone who’s seen players leave my club, and as a college coach who’s watched players transfer out, I felt compelled to make the arguments for staying.

Because sometimes the problem isn’t the program. Sometimes the growth you need only comes from pushing through the discomfort instead of running from it.

The problem with checklists

Lists like Allison’s are helpful. They give families language for recognizing legitimate red flags.

But they’re also dangerous.

Because when you frame any single issue as a “sign you should leave,” you make it too easy for people to run when things get hard.

Hockey’s no longer fun? Leave.

Not improving fast enough? Leave.

Feeling challenged by a demanding coach? Leave.

The risk is that families use one difficult season, one tough coach, or one plateau in development as permission to switch teams without doing the harder work of figuring out why those things are happening.

What ownership looks like

I’ve coached long enough to see the pattern.

A player tells me they’re not improving. They want to switch clubs to find “better coaching.”

So I ask: How many extra touches are you getting each week outside of practice?

Silence.

Are you watching film of yourself? Of college or international players in your position?

No.

Have you asked your current coach what specifically you need to work on?

Not really.

The player blames the coaching. But the real problem is they’re waiting for development to happen to them instead of taking ownership of it.

Here’s the truth: if you’re not improving, there’s a chance it’s despite the coaching, not because of it.

Maybe you’ve been outworked by teammates who are doing extra training. Maybe you’re not applying feedback from practice to games. Maybe you’re physically talented but mentally coasting.

Switching clubs won’t fix that. You’ll just bring the same habits to a new environment and wonder why nothing changed.

How to tell the difference

So how do you distinguish between a legitimate problem with your program and normal growing pains that require persistence?

Time and pattern matter more than isolated incidents.

One bad tournament doesn’t mean you’re not improving. A sustained plateau over six months might.

One tough conversation with a coach doesn’t mean they’re toxic. A pattern of humiliation, boundary violations, or hostile behavior does.

One expensive showcase doesn’t mean your club is a financial burden. Consistently going into debt to keep your kid playing does.

Ask yourself: Is this a temporary struggle or a systemic problem?

Temporary struggles feel hard in the moment but usually resolve with time, effort, or a conversation.

Systemic problems persist regardless of what you do. They’re structural, not situational.

The playing time question is complicated.

If your daughter isn’t getting playing time because she’s a freshman competing against older, more experienced players, that’s temporary. It’s frustrating, but it’s not a reason to leave.

If she’s not getting playing time because she’s simply not good enough yet, that’s also not a reason to leave - that’s a reason to get better.

But here’s where club field hockey gets messy: you’re a paying customer, and not every event is purely performance-driven.

The question to ask: Is your lack of playing time because you haven’t earned it yet, or because the club isn’t structuring opportunities fairly for paying families?

If it’s the first, do the work. If it’s the second, ask hard questions, and if they can’t explain their rationale, find a club that operates differently.

Ask: What would need to change for this to work?

If the answer involves things within your control (your effort, your attitude, your preparation), then leaving won’t solve it.

If the answer involves things outside your control (coaching philosophy, team culture, financial structure), then maybe it’s time to explore other options.

When staying is the answer

Sometimes the best development happens when you stay and fight through the hard part.

Let’s say you’re not playing as much as you want. Instead of leaving, you ask your coach what you need to improve. You show up early. You stay late. You outwork the player ahead of you.

That’s character development. That’s learning how to compete.

What if you’re frustrated with your coach’s demanding style? Instead of switching clubs, you learn how to respond to tough feedback, how to separate criticism of your performance from criticism of your worth as a person.

That’s resilience. You’ll need it in college.

The team culture isn’t perfect. Instead of leaving, you become someone who makes it better. You support your teammates. You set the standard.

That’s leadership. It doesn’t show up on a recruiting profile, but college coaches notice it.

When leaving is the answer

To be clear: there are absolutely times when leaving is the right choice. Allison addresses this in her piece, but it’s worth repeating here.

If a coach is abusive, creating a hostile environment, or crossing professional boundaries, get out. Player safety always comes first.

If your family is going into debt to fund a sport that has no professional future, find a more affordable option. Financial sustainability matters.

If the program’s goals are fundamentally misaligned with yours - you want to compete at the highest level, and they’re focused on participation - then find a better fit.

But these should be the exceptions, not the default.

The bottom line

Switching teams or clubs should never be the easy choice.

It should be the hard choice you make after exhausting every other option.

Before you leave, ask yourself:

Have I done everything within my control to improve this situation? Have I had honest conversations with my coach about what I need? Have I taken ownership of my development instead of waiting for it to happen?

Is this a temporary struggle that requires persistence, or a systemic problem that requires change?

If you can honestly say you’ve done the work and the situation is still untenable, then leave.

But if you’re leaving because things are hard, because you’re not the star, because your coach challenges you, or because you hit a plateau you haven’t tried to break through on your own, then you’re running from the exact growth opportunity you need.

Stay. Do the work. Push through. Sometimes the harder choice is the more rewarding one.

If you’re actively in the recruiting process right now and want answers faster than waiting for weekly newsletters, The Recruiting Advisor might be useful. It’s an AI tool trained on everything I teach - answers your questions 24/7, in real time. $29/month, 7-day free trial.

Try the Advisor

Shortly after I began coaching club field hockey in the United States, a player told me how excited she was to go play for the D1 school she’d just committed to.

She vibed with the team, thought the coaches would help her grow, loved the campus and facilities, and thought she’d found the right level of competition.

I caught up with her over coffee that Christmas, after her first fall semester.

It didn’t take long for the tears to flow.

The hockey was great. She loved campus life. The head coach was who she thought they’d be. The team had outperformed expectations.

But the school didn’t have her major. She needed to transfer.

She never played college field hockey again.

Now, I know what you’re thinking: How could she go somewhere that was such a bad fit academically? Didn’t someone warn her? Surely she could have found somewhere that had everything she needed?

Yes, she’d been warned. Multiple times.

But this was the best Division 1 field hockey option she had.

It certainly wasn’t the best overall Division 1 option she had.

She convinced herself she could study something else, only to find that when that reality arrived, it was the opposite of what she wanted.

Now, most families aren’t making mistakes of that gravity.

You’re checking that schools have your intended major. You’re looking at class sizes, resources, graduation rates.

But here’s what you might not be asking: Can you actually succeed at this school while training 30+ hours a week?

Tuesday’s newsletter covered the time management challenge. Today’s about the specific questions that reveal whether a program is academically sustainable for you.

Instead of: “How do I balance athletics and academics?”

This is one of those questions that recruits have been coached to ask for years.

But as with so many of the ‘right’ things to ask, it’s too generic and not specific enough.

Generic questions get generic answers. Every coach will tell you their program values academics. Every player will say it’s hard but manageable.

Ask these instead:

“What happens at your school if a player is struggling academically?”

This reveals the support system. Good answers include specifics: mandatory study halls, academic advisors assigned to athletes, tutoring availability and how it works, mental health resources.

Vague answers like “we have tutors available” tell you nothing. Press for details: How many athletes use them? What’s the process to access them? Are there academic advisors specifically for athletes?

The coach may not have all those answers, but they should be able to set you up with an academic expert at their school who does.

Read more

You’ve done your homework on academics.

You’ve checked that every school on your list has your intended major. You’ve looked at class sizes, campus resources, graduation rates. You’ve made sure your GPA and test scores are in the ballpark for admission.

You’re thinking about the academic side. Most families are.

But here’s what you might not be considering: Can you handle college-level academic rigor while essentially becoming a professional athlete?

Because both sides get significantly harder at the same time.

The time management gap

In high school, you practice for 90 minutes to 2 hours after school. Maybe you lift in the morning a few days a week.

You’ve figured out how to balance school and sports. You’re managing both successfully.

In college, the athletic commitment looks completely different.

During spring season: Morning lift, afternoon conditioning, evening practice. At least two of the three, and sometimes all of them, five or six days a week.

That’s before you get into the team meetings and film study.

During fall season: less running and lifting, but now you have two games a week. Plus travel. Not 20-minute bus rides to the next town over. Overnight trips. Missing classes. Catching up on work in hotel rooms.

NCAA research shows college athletes spend an average of 28-33 hours per week on athletics during season - more than double what most high school players experience.

The time available for academics shrinks dramatically right when the academic rigor increases.

Both sides get harder at once

The academic workload in college is harder than high school. This is true for everyone.

But whereas some high school athletes quit sport altogether or play recreationally in college, NCAA field hockey players are also dealing with a giant leap in athletic workload.

What families don’t always consider is that both increase simultaneously.

You’re not just stepping up academically while maintaining your current athletic level.

You’re not just stepping up athletically while maintaining your current academic level.

You’re stepping up both at once. While living away from home for the first time. While managing your own schedule. While dealing with roommates, social pressures, and everything else that comes with being a college freshman.

Some high achievers can compartmentalize and manage it all. They’ve built strong time management skills. They can handle the pressure.

But not everyone can. And assuming you’ll figure it out when you get there is risky.

When the hockey gets hard

Here’s a version of this problem most families don’t anticipate:

You’re keeping your grades up in high school while field hockey is going well. You’re confident. You’re playing a lot. You’re successful.

Then you get to college.

You’re a freshman. You’re not playing as much as you expected. The gap between high school field hockey and college field hockey is massive.

You’re struggling athletically. That’s normal for freshmen. But it affects everything else.

Can you keep your academics on track when the hockey part gets really hard?

Because the two are connected. When one falls apart, the other often follows.

And unlike sports with professional paths, field hockey players need the degree. You're building a career, not using college as a stepping stone.

The questions to consider

When you’re researching schools, you’re already asking about academics. You’re checking majors, looking at requirements, making sure you’re academically admissible.

But are you also asking:

• Can I handle this academic workload while playing Division I field hockey?

• Do I have the time management skills to succeed here when both demands increase?

• Am I being realistic about my capacity, or just ambitious about my goals?

There’s a difference between pushing yourself out of your comfort zone and setting yourself up to fail.

The bottom line

Athletic fit gets you recruited.

Academic fit determines whether you succeed and stay.

Most families are already thinking about academics. That’s good.

But make sure you’re thinking about academics in combination with the athletic demands of being a college field hockey player.

Because both get harder at once. And that combination is what determines whether you thrive or just survive.

Coming next in Thursday’s paid newsletter: The specific questions to ask about academic support and accountability, how to evaluate if you’re academically matched, and what to look for that tells you whether a program is academically sustainable.

Subscribe now

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Most recruiting advice comes from people who’ve never recruited anyone.

I’m Alan Good - Associate Head Coach at Liberty University, assistant coach with USA Field Hockey’s U18 Women’s National Team, and former club coach.

I’ve been the club coach helping families navigate this process. Now I’m the D1 coach making recruiting decisions on the other side.

The Recruiting Roadmap is my weekly newsletter helping 1,000+ families cut through the recruiting industry BS and understand how this actually works.

❌ The Biggest Problems Families Face in Recruiting

Most families enter recruiting with good intentions but no system. They’re either completely disorganized or focused on the wrong things.

I’ve watched hundreds of families make the same expensive mistakes:

📧 Writing forgettable emails coaches archive in 10 seconds - Generic messages that sound like every other email in the inbox. You need to know what actually holds their attention or gets a response.

🎯 Building unrealistic college lists - Wasting 6+ months pursuing schools that were never realistic options, or worse, settling for schools that aren’t the right fit because nobody taught you how to evaluate across academics, athletics, finances, geography, and social factors.

🏑 Showing up wrong at showcases and tournaments - Thinking you just need to play well when coaches are evaluating completely different things. Most players focus on stick skills. Coaches are watching communication, composure, and coachability.

👀 Misreading what coaches actually mean - Thinking “we’d love to see you at more events” means you’re being recruited. Or believing “things are moving really fast right now” is good news. These phrases mean something very specific - and it’s not what you think.

💰 Not understanding the financial reality - Assuming D1 is always a better financial package than D3. Not knowing how to stack athletic and academic aid. Accepting the first offer without understanding what’s actually possible.

🚩 Missing red flags on campus visits - Focusing on shiny locker rooms and Instagram-worthy facilities instead of the things that actually predict your four-year experience. Most families miss the warning signs because they don’t know what to look for.

🤝 Damaging your club coach relationship - Not understanding your club coach’s role in this process and burning a crucial bridge without even realizing it. This relationship can make or break your recruiting.

📍 Feeling completely lost and disorganized - Tracking emails, dates, coaches, schools, and deadlines in your head or scattered notes. No system for managing the chaos.

⏰ Having no idea what to do when June 15th hits - After sophomore year, coaches can finally contact you directly. But if you haven’t prepared properly, you’ve already lost momentum.

🎓 Making emotional decisions instead of strategic ones - Choosing schools based on how the visit felt instead of evaluating team culture, coaching stability, playing time reality, academic fit, and financial value. The decision that feels right in the moment isn’t always the one that’s right for four years.

These aren’t your fault. Nobody teaches this stuff.

But you don’t have to figure it out the hard way.

✉️ What You Get Every Week

The Recruiting Roadmap publishes twice a week:

Free Tuesdays (1,000+ subscribers)

Strategy, frameworks, and insider perspectives you won’t find anywhere else. This is where I share contrarian takes, reality checks, and the observations I’d never say publicly as a college coach.

Recent free issues:

• Why quiet teams lose recruiting opportunities (not just games)

• What coaches actually evaluate at showcases

• The emails that get deleted vs. the ones that get responses

• How to know when your list needs to expand

• Red flags that reveal a program’s real culture

Paid Thursdays ($6/month)

Tactical toolkits, templates, frameworks, and implementation guides for families who want every possible edge, every second Thursday.

The most popular paid issues include:

• Why field hockey’s transfer portal works differently than you think

• 4 things missing from the best tournament in America

• What ‘we help with recruiting’ actually means

• How to close the athletic fit gap

📚 Popular Posts (Based on Reader Engagement)

Want to see what you’re getting into? While the paid posts above all have a paywall, here are some of the most-read free Tuesday issues:

🏑 Who Am I?

I’m Alan Good.

Current roles:

• Associate Head Coach, Liberty University Field Hockey

• Assistant Coach, USA Field Hockey U18 Women’s National Team

• Founder, The Recruiting Roadmap

Before coaching in college:

• Club coach helping dozens of players navigate recruiting and earn college offers

• Journalist covering field hockey and youth sports

What makes this different:

I’ve been on both sides. I know what families are thinking because I’ve helped them through this process. I know what coaches are thinking because I’m sitting in the recruiting meetings making the decisions.

That gap between what families think recruiting is and what it actually is? It’s massive. And I’m here to close it.

💬 What Readers Are Saying

“Alan’s blogs and resources are incredibly helpful & especially timely. It’s difficult for kids navigating college goals due to the ever-changing rules in recruiting & roster limits, pressures that cultivate through social media, etc. Most parents didn’t play college sport, and even if they did, the landscape is completely different now than a generation ago. With Alan’s resources as a guide, parents and student-athletes are better situated to take some control in the process & create space for the joy that all youth should experience through competing in sport. Alan uses his platform in a responsible and caring manner, and all field hockey families benefit from his efforts.”

Amanda Stanec

“Alan’s courses and newsletters have been a game-changer for how I help my athletes navigate their recruiting. His insight into what college coaches are looking for coupled with his clear breakdown of the process has allowed me a fresh lens for and how to better attack this recruiting landscape. After coaching for 14 years, it is harder than ever to get that division 1 spot for my kids. Alan has breathed new life into how I aid my athletes. There has been a tremendous amount of change within NCAA and collegiate FH. His course and frank way of breaking down the process, has helped me speak with more authority. I feel much more confident that I’m pointing my families in the right direction. Alan has helped me craft example emails for my athletes to write to coaches that will help them stand out. He has helped me decode what coaches actually mean in their interactions. He gives tips on when to push communication, and examples of reasonable things to ask coaches throughout the recruiting timeline. I’ve learned a lot in the past few months, and I cannot say enough good things about Alan’s courses and newsletter.”

Misty Brady

“As a parent of a “late bloomer”, I cannot share how important Alan’s newsletter about this was for us to read and discuss. His advice pertains not only to the recruiting process, but for all areas of sport recognition, accomplishments, and non-sport achievements. Overall, his information has been so well curated to answer the questions so many of us have. This one hit the bullseye and isn’t really addressed anywhere else... so, thank you!”

Devon Shuchman

🚀 Subscribe to The Recruiting Roadmap

Every Tuesday: Free recruiting insights that cut through the industry BS
Every Thursday: Premium tactical guides for serious families ($6/month)

Subscribe now

Want even more support?

Check out The Recruiting Advisor — an AI tool trained on everything I teach, available 24/7 to answer your recruiting questions. ($29/month, 7-day free trial)

Questions? Comments? Want me to cover something specific?

I read every reply. Just hit respond to any newsletter.

Best of luck with it all,
Alan

The recruiting process has a fundamental problem.

You’re making high-stakes decisions with incomplete information.

You don’t know what coaches mean when they send certain emails. You don’t know if a visit went well. You don’t know what to write in your follow-up. You don’t know which signals matter and which ones don’t.

Your club coach might have opinions, but they’re guessing about the college landscape. Other parents are navigating the same fog you are. And college coaches? We can’t help you. NCAA rules prevent us from having individualized recruiting conversations with most prospects.

So you’re left trying to decode a deliberately opaque process with no one to ask for help.

That’s the transparency problem I’ve been writing about for years.

It’s why I built The Recruiting Advisor.

What it is

The Recruiting Advisor is an AI chatbot trained on everything I know about college field hockey recruiting. The patterns I’ve seen as a D1 coach. The communication strategies that work. The mistakes families make. The questions that matter and the ones that don’t.

It’s available 24/7. It gives you straight answers based on my methodology, not generic recruiting advice scraped from the internet.

It’s not me personally coaching you through the AI. But it is trained on how I think about recruiting, what I’ve learned from 10+ years on both sides of the desk, and the framework I use to help families navigate this process.

What beta testers said

I ran a closed beta with families from the classes of 2027, 2028, and 2029.

“It helped us understand whether my daughter was where she needed to be for her timeline and what steps to take next.” (Parent of 2027)

“I back-tested our daughter’s past communications and actions from the last two years. The insights on strategy, timing, messaging, and real scenarios were incredibly helpful. Having that clarity earlier would have saved our family a considerable amount of time and could have increased visibility with her target schools. I wish we had this tool two years ago.” (Parent with 10+ years of D1 recruiting experience in lacrosse and soccer)

“It provided well-informed answers with explanations. It responded well to follow-up questions and gave focused, detailed responses.” (Parent who works as an AI lead in education)

“I could ask goalie-specific questions, which are sometimes hard to come by.” (Parent of 2028 goalkeeper)

What it does well (and what it doesn’t)

The Advisor helps you understand recruiting patterns, decode coach communication, and build strategy. It’s trained on my methodology and can answer questions at 2am when you can’t sleep.

It’s not personalized recruiting consultation. It can’t evaluate your daughter’s skill level or tell you which specific schools to target. It’s a tool to help you think more clearly, not to make decisions for you.

If you give it context, it gets specific. If your first answer feels generic, push back. Say “that doesn’t fit my situation” or “can you explain that differently?” It’ll adjust.

The details

Pricing:

• $29/month (cancel anytime)

• $290/year (save ~$58)

What you get:

• 24/7 access to the AI advisor

• Unlimited questions

• A 7-day free trial

Get access now

Why this exists

The current system doesn’t work for families. You’re expected to navigate a high-stakes process with incomplete information, no transparency, and limited access to people who actually understand it from the inside.

The newsletter helps, but it’s static. You read it, learn the concepts, and then you’re on your own when a specific situation comes up.

The Recruiting Advisor is there when you need it. It doesn’t tell you what you want to hear. It tells you what the situation likely means based on patterns I’ve seen hundreds of times.

Recruiting is hard. This makes it less confusing.

If you're tired of guessing what coaches mean or wondering if you're doing this right, try it free for 7 days.

Check out The Recruiting Advisor

You did everything right.

You researched which college coaches would be attending the tournament. You put together your schedule. You wrote a clear email with your team name, your jersey number, and your game times.

You hit send on Thursday night before the weekend tournament.

And the coach never showed up to your games.

Here’s what likely happened: You sent a good email at a bad time.

The planning window you’re missing

College coaches don’t decide who to watch on Friday afternoon before a Saturday tournament.

They start deciding weeks before the event starts.

During that window, they’re:

• Reviewing film of players on their recruiting board

• Checking notes from previous viewings

• Prioritizing which fields and games to attend

• Building their watch list for the weekend

• Coordinating schedules with their staff

Most programs will operate a “cut-off” time, after which their schedule is locked and loaded. It’s usually a few days before the first day, so they don’t have to stress over last-minute adjustments.

By the time you send your Thursday night email saying “I’ll be at Spooky Nook this weekend,” their plan is already set.

Your email isn’t bad. It’s just probably too late.

What coaches already have

Here’s what families don’t realize: coaches already have your tournament schedule.

Major tournaments have apps that allow coaches to see which teams are attending, schedules, brackets, and field assignments.

There used to be a couple, but for field hockey at least, they’ve all recently been consolidated into Event Beacon.

Coaches aren’t usually missing information about when and where you’re playing.

What they’re missing is why they should prioritize watching you over the hundreds or thousands of other players at the same event.

The email coaches actually need

When you email a coach about a tournament, you’re not giving them information they don’t have.

You’re giving them a reason to put you on their watch list during the planning window.

The coach receives hundreds of emails before tournaments. But most of them can only watch about 15-20 halves of hockey in a day before they’re tapped out mentally. They need to decide which players to prioritize.

Your email - sent at the right time - is what maximises your chances of getting you on that list.

Too late:

“I’ll be playing at Virginia Beach Sportsplex this weekend. Hope to see you there!”

Planning window:

“I’ll be at RCC in a few weeks. I’ve been working on the positioning feedback you gave us at your clinic, and I’d love for you to see how it’s developed.”

The second email arrives when the coach is still building their watch list. The first arrives after it’s finalized.

The schedule graphic tradeoff

You’ve seen them on Instagram: beautifully designed graphics with tournament logos, game times in clean typography, field numbers color-coded by day.

Families spend time and sometimes money creating these. They’re nice to have, but they don’t get you watched at the tournament.

Coaches aren’t checking your Instagram for your schedule. Email is old-school tech, but its big advantage is that there’s no algorithm.

So posting pretty schedule graphics while waiting until the last minute to email coaches is doing the wrong work for the wrong audience.

When to send tournament emails

2-3 weeks before the event: Initial tournament email. This is when coaches are planning who to watch.

Even if you don’t have a schedule yet, don’t sweat it - you can always send it in your follow-up.

Once you have your schedule: Follow up with specifics (team name, jersey number, pool play times). This is confirmation, not an introduction.

Although the apps theoretically handle the schedule as I mentioned above, it’s still a good idea to email it to coaches.

Apps glitch. Rosters get posted late. Some coaches still prefer pen and paper and print out schedules the old-school way.

The initial email establishes why they should watch you. The follow-up email makes it easy for them to find you once they’ve already decided to.

Never: Thursday night before a Friday tournament. You've missed the planning window entirely.

The bottom line

The goal isn’t just to inform coaches you’ll be there. It’s to get on their radar during the window when they’re deciding who deserves their attention.

When coaches are building their watch list during the planning phase, they prioritize:

• Players they’ve already seen and want to evaluate again

• Players who’ve communicated consistently and professionally

• Players who’ve signaled genuine interest in their program

Your Thursday night email can’t compete with the player who emailed two weeks ago and has been on the coach’s radar throughout their planning process.

The families who emailed early got watched. The families who emailed late got added to a list for “maybe if we have time.”

“Maybe if we have time” rarely happens at a tournament with 200+ teams.

Sending a tournament email the night before is like cramming for a test at midnight. Sure, you studied. But you’re competing against players who started preparing weeks ago. The coaches’ watch list was finalized before you even opened your books.

If you have tournaments coming up this spring, send those initial emails now.

A few weeks ago, I wrote about controlling your narrative when you can’t control the injury.

It clearly struck a chord as I got quite a few responses. Questions about what to say, how often to say it, and whether coaches actually care about recovery updates.

So here’s the tactical playbook. The execution of what I outlined in that piece.

If you aren’t injured, this newsletter might not be as relevant for you today - but it’s here in case you need it.

The email you send immediately after injury

When to send: Within 1-2 weeks of diagnosis

Why it matters: Coaches you’ve been emailing with need to know what happened, so they know why you won’t be at tournaments for a while.

Template:

Subject: Injury update + what I’m learning

Coach [Name],

I wanted to let you know that I tore my ACL on [date] during [specific game/moment]. Surgery is scheduled for [date], and my recovery timeline is 9-12 months.

This means I’ll miss [specific tournaments/showcases], which is disappointing as those are missed evaluation opportunities.

Read more

Ding!

The notification hits you like a punch to the gut.

“Coach X from University Y viewed your profile”

You screenshot it. You text your mom. You start Googling the program to see where they might fit on your list.

Here’s the problem: you have no idea what happened after they clicked.

What a profile view actually tells you

When a college coach views your recruiting profile, here’s what you know:

They opened it.

That’s it. That’s the entire dataset.

A profile view is not a recruiting signal. It’s proof that someone clicked a link.

Here’s what might have happened after that coach viewed your profile:

Possibility 1: They watched 30 seconds of your video, decided you’re not at the level their program needs, and moved on. The view meant nothing.

Possibility 2: They watched your full highlight reel, took notes, added you to their recruiting board, and put a reminder to watch you at the next major event. The view meant everything.

You have no way to know which one happened - or whether it was something in between.

So you refresh the page. You check again. You try to read meaning into something that has no meaning to give you.

Why you’re doing this

I get it. You’re trying to solve for the asymmetry of information. It’s the biggest pain point in recruiting.

Before June 15 of your sophomore year, you have almost no direct information about where you stand in recruiting. Coaches can’t tell you they’re interested. You can’t ask them directly. You’re operating in the dark.

So you look for signals. Profile views. Instagram follows. Email opens, if you’re paying for that too.

You’re trying to bridge the information gap with data that doesn’t actually bridge it.

It’s like trying to figure out if someone likes you by tracking how many times they walked past your locker. The data exists. The conclusion doesn’t.

The key is to not fall into whataboutery.

It’s easy to convince yourself that a view means interest. Then you start checking more often to see if the school viewed it again. When they don’t, you assume they’ve lost interest. Or you wonder if you need to send another email to get back on their radar. Or you spiral because a different coach from a program you weren’t even targeting viewed your profile twice, and now you’re wondering if you should add them to your list.

The profile view becomes the thing you’re managing instead of your actual recruiting.

And if you’re paying for a premium account to see who’s viewing your profile? You’re basically paying to access anxiety.

The same trap on Instagram

People ask the same thing about social media: “What does it mean if a coach or a program follows me on Instagram?”

It means… they followed you on Instagram.

It’s more meaningful than a profile view because it required an action beyond clicking a link.

But it’s still a relatively small signal. You don’t know if the program is following hundreds of players to try to solicit return follows, or whether they’re only following the ones they actually want to track.

Again, it might not be serving you to read too much into this stuff. There’s questionable value in social media for coaches anyway.

What actually matters

There’s one way to bridge the information gap before June 15, and it’s not checking profile views.

It’s your club coach.

College coaches will reach out to club coaches seeking evaluations on players they’re interested in. And the club coach can tell you who’s asking.

It doesn’t guarantee you get contacted on June 15 or anything, but it’s a more reliable interest signal.

You can’t know what a profile view means. You can’t control what happens after a coach clicks on your page. You can’t solve the asymmetry of information by refreshing a dashboard.

You can control whether your recruiting profile is up to date, and whether you’re spending your mental energy on recruiting actions that matter instead of signals that don’t.

Stop checking who viewed your profile. It’s not going to tell you what you want to know.

The National Indoor Tournament is this weekend.

High pressure. Lots of coaches. Games every couple of hours across multiple courts.

And somewhere between your first and second game comes a thought that tanks your performance.

Here’s how it happens.

You have a rough first game. Maybe you misplace a few passes. Maybe you don’t get many touches or minutes. Maybe the pace feels faster than you expected, and you’re a step behind.

Walking off the court, your brain starts: “The coaches just saw me at my worst. I’m blowing it.”

Three hours later, you’re back on Court 3 for Game 2. But now you’re playing scared. You don’t want the ball. You’re playing not to make mistakes instead of playing to make an impact.

You think you’re blowing it, so you play scared. And now you actually are blowing it.

This happens at every major recruiting event. One bad performance creates a thought. The thought creates consequences. And the consequences are worse than the original performance ever was.

There’s a framework that can help you interrupt that spiral.

The ABC framework

It’s called the ABC framework, and it comes from cognitive behavioral therapy:

A: What ADVERSITY did you face?
B: What were your BELIEFS about it?
C: What were the CONSEQUENCES?

The adversity is the thing that happened. The belief is the story you tell yourself about what it means. The consequence is what you do next.

Most people skip straight from A to C without realizing that B - the belief - is doing all the damage.

How this shows up in performance

A few years ago, I asked a teenage athlete - a forward - who was struggling with confidence to answer those three questions after a tough practice.

Here’s what she wrote:

After she finished the exercise, I didn’t offer any advice. Yet.

Instead, I asked her to read it back when she got home that night and write a “reflection on the reflection” the next day, after she’d slept on it.

This time, her tune had changed:

This player hadn’t even considered how out of step her thoughts were with reality. Years of negative self-talk had trained her to catastrophize moments that didn’t deserve it.

She went on to have a successful Division I career. And it started with recognizing that the gap wasn’t between her talent and the college level - it was between what she believed was happening and what was actually happening.

The NIT application

Here’s how this shows up at recruiting tournaments:

After Game 1:

• A: I missed a few passes, didn’t get many touches

• B: Coaches saw me play terribly. My recruiting is probably over.

• C: I play timid the rest of the weekend, don’t demand the ball, make it worse

The reality? Coaches are watching 12-14 games per day across multiple courts. They’re building a picture of each recruit over multiple events across a couple of years.

If you aren’t at their level anyway, having one of your best games, unfortunately, probably won’t change that.

But if you are at their level, one rough game won’t end it. They’ll likely put it down to a bad outing and come watch you again.

But none of that matters if you let the thought from Game 1 destroy the rest of the tournament.

The performance anxiety becomes the performance problem.

The tactical move

You’re not going to journal between games at a busy tournament. But you can catch the thought before it spirals.

When you walk off the court after a tough game and your brain starts telling you it’s over - stop. Ask yourself: “Is this a fact or a story?”

• Fact: I had three turnovers in the first half

• Story: My recruiting is over

• Fact: I didn’t get many touches

• Story: Coaches think I’m terrible

• Fact: That game didn’t go well

• Story: I always choke at recruiting tournaments

Then go play the next game based on what actually happened, not what you’re afraid it means.

After the tournament

Once NIT is over, use the ABC framework to debrief the whole weekend:

Step 1: Write down what happened. Be specific about the tournament. “I played five games. Two felt good, three were rough. I had more turnovers than usual in Games 1 and 3.” Not “The whole tournament was a disaster.”

Step 2: Write down your belief. What story are you telling yourself about the weekend? “Coaches saw me struggle. They probably think I’m not good enough. This tournament hurt my recruiting.”

Step 3: Challenge the belief. Is this based on facts or assumptions? “I don’t actually know which games coaches watched. I don’t know what they thought. I’m assuming the worst without any real information. The turnovers happened, but I don’t know if that’s what they were even looking at.”

When you write it down, you’ll usually realize the story you’re telling yourself is based on assumptions, not reality.

The consequence is still yours to control. You can let the belief spiral and pull back from recruiting.

Or you can use the tournament as a roadmap: work on the decision-making that caused the turnovers, focus on lifting your energy after mistakes at the next event, email coaches with your spring schedule.

The adversity happened. What you do next matters more.

The bottom line

You can’t control what coaches think. You have almost no information about where you stand in recruiting until June 15. That asymmetry creates anxiety.

But you can control whether that anxiety creates worse performances at the exact moments that matter most.

The ABC framework helps you separate what happened from what you think it means - before the thought becomes the consequence.

We can all learn how to talk to ourselves instead of listening to ourselves.