Sooooo…your daughter has decided that she wants to become a pitcher.

Congratulations to her! That’s a big step, especially given the importance of the position in fastpitch softball.

The value of a quality pitcher in softball is roughly the same as the value of a quality quarterback in football. While those roles differ, both can have a huge impact on whether the team wins or loses.

Because of all of that you are excited. You can’t wait to watch your wonderful, softball-loving daughter shine in the circle and feel the glow of admiration from coaches, teammates, and fans alike.

I know. I’ve been there – twice – and have seen those feelings in the eyes and body language of countless students.

But it’s not all sunshine and unicorns, even if your daughter is a tremendous athlete and a start in other aspects of the sport. So now that that decision has been made, let me clue you newbies in on what you’re in for going forward.

Parents of pitchers, current and past, be sure to chime in down in the comments about any aspects I’ve missed. It’s been a while for me.

The Time

You know that thing they call free time? Forget about it for the next 10-15 years, depending on how old your daughter is.

Because it’s a thing of the past.

Becoming even a decent pitcher takes a lot of work, i.e., many hours spent honing the craft. So while other parents gets to unwind at the end of a long, tough work day by collapsing on the couch, perhaps with an adult beverage or two, there is no such paradise waiting for you.

Instead, you will come home, change, maybe grab a quick bite, and then head out to a field, facility, and/or lesson so your daughter can get better. You see, pitching mechanics require a tremendous degree of precision and coordination to execute, and even the slightest variance can mean more walks than strikeouts, or too many hit-by-pitches, or too many balls left too fat in the zone resulting in big hits.

Not to mention there’s always another mile per hour or two to chase. So your “free time” will be spent sitting on a bucket and/or driving somewhere so your daughter has her best chance of succeeding.

The Nerves

Ever see a crowd sitting calmly watching a softball game? Everyone there is relaxed, chatting about the game or their lives, checking their phones for messages, maybe enjoying a snack or two on a lovely evening.

What you won’t see there is the current pitcher’s parent(s). That because the parent(s) are frantically pacing up and down the sidelines, or more likely somewhere behind the outfield fence, living and dying on every pitch.

Remember how I said in the beginning it’s a huge responsibility? As a pitcher’s parent you’re going to feel all the weight of that responsibility, probably much more than your daughter does, and you’re not going to be able to do a danged thing about it.

Except pace. And mumble to yourself. And question every pitch call from your coach as well as the umpire. Then pace some more.

You are basically trapped in a hell of your own making while you try to will your daughter to hit her spots, make the ball spin, or throw as hard in a game as she does in practice.

Eventually she will get there. But then you’ll just stalk up and down the sidelines or outfield fence and fret about the outcome of every pitch anyway. Because that’s what pitcher’s parents do.

The Fighting with Your Daughter

Learning to pitch is a long, arduous process with many ups and downs. As a good parent you want to see your daughter succeed.

Unfortunately, she may not realize how much work it takes, and thus will want to live the same type of life as other girls her age. As if!

So the two of you will fight about whether she can go here or there, or whether she needs to practice first.

You will also fight about mechanics. Because you heard one thing at her last lesson and she heard another. Or you’ve been checking the Internet for advice again and want her to try whatever tip or trick you just learned.

You will fight about what happened during the game. Did she try hard enough? Did she give up too many walks? Why did she throw a changeup to a hitter who clearly couldn’t hit her faster pitches? Why didn’t she throw home to force the runner there instead of throwing to first base and letting the run score?

And so on, and so on.

Fathers and daughters in particular will fight, because that’s just natural in human dynamics. The good new is, as tough as it can be, better to be fighting about pitching than who she was with or what she was doing last night.

Oh, and if you are also her team coach as well as practice catcher, get ready for many storm clouds ahead. It’s gonna be a rough ride.

The Money

So, you thought softball was expensive before your daughter declared she wanted to be a pitcher? Those will quickly become the good old days.

It starts with lessons of course. They aren’t cheap, and they have to be done frequently to get anywhere. Like once a week or once every other week (for a longer period of time) if you want her to gain competence quickly.

You will also need the ubiquitous bucket to carry balls and a glove in, as well as to sit on during lessons (hence the term “bucket dad” or “bucket mom”). It’s not required, but unless you’re a former catcher or someone who does a lot of squats normally you’re probably going to appreciate it quickly.

Then, as your little pitcher gets better, you’re going to start needing to purchase special equipment. It starts with a catcher’s mitt because your hand can’t take it when she starts popping the glove.

Then, as she learns to throw changeups and drops, you’ll probably want a pair of shin guards, and maybe a paid of shoes with steel toes. As speed picks up and movement gets sharper, you’ll probably need a catcher’s helmet too, so at that point you may as well get a chest protector as well.

As she gets better she will be sought after by better teams that play more often and travel farther to do it. Now you’re looking at thousands more dollars for the summer alone.

Eventually what started out as a nice little diversion ends up costing as much as a decent boat. But that’s ok, because you won’t have time to enjoy a boat even if you bought one.

The Heartbreak

It’s hard to watch your child struggle at anything, much less fail. But softball is a game built on failure, and nowhere is it more painful than when your daughter is having a tough time pitching.

Sure, it’s hard to watch your daughter strike out too. But that probably only happens maybe two or three times a game. But if she’s throwing balls and hitting batters when she should be throwing strikes, or serving up meatballs like she’s working at Olive Garden, it can be devastating to her – and to you.

Basically, a pitcher’s parent tends to live and die on every pitch. Especially during a tight game or one against a major rival.

So you may find yourself dying dozens of times during a game, and even a hundred or more on the weekend. And that’s just you.

Seeing the pain on her face during or after the game is tough to take. Yet you’re probably going to have to live with that pain for a while until she gets more experienced. If you’re not ready it can come as quite a shock.

Worth It?

So yes, the struggle is real. Which begs the question, “Is it worth it?”

That’s a decision you’ll ultimately have to make. Maybe your daughter will try it, realize how hard it is (and/or how much work it really takes) and opt out.

That’s ok. The team needs a center fielder too.

But if it’s something she really wants to pursue, in my opinion the answer is yes. Because she will learn how to overcome obstacles galore and the two of you will spend plenty of quality time together (when you’re not arguing). Probably much more than you would have otherwise.

Not to mention there’s nothing like the joy in your daughter’s face when she strikes out her first batter, retires the side in a close game, pitches her to team to a championship, and earns an MVP medal or game ball for her outstanding performance.

So if one day your daughter announces that she would like to be a pitcher, it’s ok to celebrate. But be aware of what you’re getting into and strap yourself in.

Because it’s going to be a bumpy ride.