From Pool Deck to Diving Board: Lessons from an Unpaid Assistant Seat in the NCAA

I have never set foot in Smithfield, Rhode Island. But when I read the job posting for a volunteer assistant diving coach at Bryant University, I was suddenly reminded of the feeling of standing on the starting block at age 19, before an empty pool in Nha Trang. No stands, no cameras, only the sound of my heartbeat and the smell of chlorine. I understood that in sports, the lights do not always shine on the most important roles. And this unpaid assistant seat, though small, is a haunting piece of how the American collegiate sports system operates. Bryant University is a Division I program in the America East Conference — a mid-major, not a Power Five. There, the swimming and diving team has no glamour of Texas or Stanford. They have one opening: volunteer assistant diving coach. No salary. No benefits. Only responsibilities: assist with daily training, help plan practices, support recruiting, and comply with all NCAA rules. Applicants need only submit a resume and a brief statement of interest to Katie Cameron — presumably the head coach or program administrator. I have spent 11 years observing different sports systems, and I have learned that job postings like this are never just postings. They are windows into the financial structure and ambitions of a program. This volunteer position is not an exception — it is an unwritten rule of mid-major NCAA programs. They need more hands to cover the pool deck, to show up on recruiting trips, but the budget does not allow it. The solution: an unpaid seat, politely called "volunteer." What made me pause was not the position itself, but what it reveals about how the NCAA operates. NCAA rules limit the number of "countable coaches" per program. Volunteer coaches are a legal way to add staff without exceeding this limit, while also avoiding salary costs. It is a clever structure, but also full of risk. This volunteer assistant will engage in recruiting — an area the NCAA regulates extremely strictly. A small mistake in communication with a prospective athlete could lead to severe penalties for the entire program. I remember the 2026 World Cup, when I wrote about goalkeeper Nguyen Van Hoang's transfer. I learned that in sports, the smallest details — a release clause, a rule about contact periods — often matter more than flashy contracts. Likewise, this volunteer assistant position is not in the spotlight, but it is part of the machinery. It shows me that even in America — where collegiate sports are considered the pinnacle of talent development — there are gaps filled by unpaid dedication. But I want to look further. If you read this posting carefully, you will notice something odd: no certification requirements. No USA Diving, no CPR, no specific coaching experience. This could be an oversight, or it could be a signal. A program truly serious about coaching quality would require these certifications. Omitting them suggests one of two things: either they are in a hurry to find someone, or they do not hold high expectations for this role. Both are notable signals about the program's health. From the perspective of someone who once stood on the starting block, I see a value in this position that no one states: it is a door. For a young coach fresh out of school, or a former athlete looking to enter the profession, this is a chance to learn the NCAA system from the inside. No salary, but experience. No guarantees, but opportunity. It is a trade-off many are willing to accept. I have seen coaches start in positions like this and rise to lead major programs. I have also seen those who quit after one season because they could not manage the finances. This story is not just about Bryant University. It is about how we value dedication in sports. In Vietnam, we have coaches who spend their own money to support youth teams. In America, they have volunteer assistants working unpaid for a line on their resume. Different contexts, but the same essence: sports always rely on people willing to give more than they receive. I do not know who will take this position. I do not know if they will survive their first season. But I know that somewhere in the NCAA system, a young coach is preparing to send their resume to Katie Cameron. And I hope they understand: this unpaid seat is not an ending, but a beginning. Like when I stood on the starting block at 19, no one promised anything, but I knew I was starting a journey. Hearing the crowd roar, I know I am writing with sweat, not just ink. And I believe that volunteer assistant — if they are patient enough — will one day stand on the highest podium, not as an athlete, but as the one who guides other athletes. That is how sports work. That is how dreams are passed on.