Faith, Family, and Fastpitch
We started them young. Both of our daughters, Chloe and Thessa Malauulu, stepped onto the field when they were just toddlers. Chloe was three when she donned her first t-ball uniform. Thessa was barely one, proudly sporting a “little sister” team t-shirt while running around the field. Two years later, Thessa finally had her very own uniform, and it was Chloe’s turn to wear the supporting “big sister” shirt whenever she was not in uniform herself.
As Team Mom, my job was to corral the chaos in the dugout. I did my best to keep the tiny, restless players—many of them nieces and nephews—geared up, on deck, and well-stocked with juice boxes. Chloe, in a moment we’ll never forget, picked flowers in the outfield as a ground ball rolled right past her. Thessa was far more interested in post-game snacks than the actual game—a memory that always makes us giggle.
I can vividly picture their gloves engulfing their little hands and their oversized helmets wobbling wildly—spinning full circles around their heads as they ran the bases with all their might. What started as lighthearted Saturday mornings at our local park quickly grew into something far greater and more intense than I could have ever imagined. For over two decades, our lives revolved around softball—Rec, All-Stars, Travel Ball, and guest spots on select teams.
From local tournament wins to district, state, and even national championships, our daughters collected so many medals and trophies that we ran out of shelves long before reaching the crowning moment of their youth careers: winning a highly coveted California Interscholastic Federation (CIF) championship in 2017—together—for the first time in St. Anthony High School’s 100-year history. (Photo below courtesy of the Malau’ulu family)
And then, the dream that every softball parent dares to dream became our reality—they both earned scholarships to play Division I college softball: Chloe at Mississippi State and Thessa at UCLA.
Sacrifices On and Off the Field
They worked hard for it. We all did. They hit the books and the field daily, often skipping typical teenage hangouts so they could study or train. My husband, George, and I worked night shifts at our regular jobs, juggled other part-time gigs and household responsibilities during the day, and sacrificed time away from our extended family and friends to support our girls. Our two younger sons — Jordan and Koa — spent countless afternoons at their sisters’ practices and most weekends at their games.
We squeezed in the boys’ athletic development whenever and wherever we could—working around their sisters’ grueling, year-round softball schedule. We missed loved ones’ birthdays, graduations, showers, weddings, funerals, and even some holidays because we chose to prioritize softball. We often split up to cover different tournaments, ate more meals from snack bars than we care to admit, and took naps beneath whatever shade we could find. I carefully orchestrated “vacations” around scenic attractions close to the ballparks.
It’s a wonder how the kids managed to balance school activities, music lessons, and still earn good grades—but they did. Even while on the road, we made it a point to be in church on Sundays, and everyone was expected to stay grounded through personal devotions and family Bible study. Along the way, we made unforgettable memories with families who became like our own — barbecuing at parks, tailgating in parking lots, and hanging out in hotel lobbies across the country. At some point, softball stopped being just a sport — it was our life.
Mississippi Magic
Chloe was an accomplished four-year starting outfielder for the Bulldogs. From her very first unofficial visit to Mississippi State as a high school sophomore in 2016, she knew Starkville would be her home during college. She had several offers, but she chose Mississippi State because she believed she could make a real impact on that program. Chloe made meaningful contributions every year as the team progressed, and her teammates named her Captain two years in a row.
In 2022, the unranked Bulldogs made NCAA history by upsetting No. 2–ranked Florida State in back-to-back, bracket-busting wins during regionals. It was Chloe who delivered the run that sealed their spot in the program’s first-ever Super Regional—without ever hosting a regional themselves. We were in Tallahassee when it happened, and I will never forget the thrill of that moment.
Then, the next day, seeing the Starkville community welcome the team bus—with a full police escort, a hometown parade, and a rally at Nusz Park—followed by press interviews and national media coverage, felt like a dream come true. It was the kind of moment that made every sacrifice feel completely worth it. Even though they did not make it past No. 12–ranked Arizona in the supers, Mississippi State redefined “Stark Vegas” that year with the fanfare surrounding the Lady SuperDawgs.
Extra Inning
We were fortunate that Chloe got an extra year of eligibility, thanks to the pandemic cutting the 2020 season short. People asked why Chloe did not enter the portal and transfer elsewhere for her fifth year — but the thought never crossed her mind. She was proud of everything they had built at Mississippi State and was committed to continuing that legacy.
We entered the 2023 season still riding the high of that unforgettable 2022 run, fully expecting another deep postseason. The team got off to a solid start, but injuries took their toll, and we found ourselves battling for a decent seed in the SEC tournament. We were eliminated by South Carolina in the knockout round—in a match that would later prove to be pivotal. That game, played in Arkansas, was supposed to be just a bump on the road to regionals.
No one left their cleats on the field — a Mississippi State tradition for seniors in their final game — because no one thought it was over. Why would they? We were already looking ahead to the NCAA Selection Show that weekend. In past years, regionals had taken us to Seattle, WA; Stillwater, OK; and Tallahassee, FL. We were anxious—and excited—to find out where the road would lead us next.
The Last Out
Selection Sunday fell on May 14th that year. It was Mother’s Day. It was also Chloe’s 23rd birthday. We were on an airplane as the show was streaming, and for as long as I live, I will never forget how nervous I felt sitting on that plane, mid-flight, trying desperately to find the broadcast—watching the screen, watching the seconds tick by, and then… the stabbing pain of never hearing Mississippi State’s name being called.
It was impossible to believe that our beloved Bulldogs did not make regionals. It was over. Chloe’s college career was finished. On her birthday. On Mother’s Day. The pain in my chest was so sharp, I could not breathe. I cried silently in my seat while other passengers around me chatted and sipped their drinks. It was surreal. As a mother, I was not just heartbroken—I was worried for my little girl and her wellbeing. It’s silly what our minds go to in moments of despair, but I kept thinking about the seniors’ cleats never retiring in the customary tradition.
Mama’s Broken Heart
I actually began writing about this experience back then. Writing has always helped me process things, and my Mama heart desperately needed to make sense of the devastating end to Chloe’s fateful, final season. I was trying to work through it all on my own, trying to be strong for her — but I could not. It hurt too much to put into words. Tears stung my eyes for days. The words caught in my throat. I could not sleep.
Concern for my daughter’s mental health consumed me. That year, the world of college sports had already seen three bright, beloved female athletes take their own lives. The pain and grief were deeply personal for us, and for so many sports families. We were relieved that the NCAA had finally started talking more openly about athletes’ mental health, but at that moment, it felt too close. It was distressing to watch Chloe — after such a remarkable career — not have the closure she deserved.
I recognized her pain the moment I heard her voice. She didn’t know what would come next—none of us did. Even though we were immensely proud of her, and despite the deep love we shared as a family, a heavy cloud of uncertainty hung over our future. That week, we leaned hard on our faith in God—it was the steady foundation that grounded us and gave us the strength to face each day. We held tight to the happy memories from her time at Mississippi State, letting them bring light to an otherwise difficult moment.
Meanwhile, at UCLA…
That same year, Thessa, now a junior, had to medically redshirt due to a shoulder injury. After two strong seasons in Westwood, it was tough seeing her sidelined — but in a way, it was a blessing. It allowed us to focus more fully on Chloe’s graduate season. Still, we never stopped being Bruins. We went to as many games as we could, and we traveled to Phoenix for the first-ever Pac-12 Tournament, cheering on UCLA even though Thessa was not playing.
We lost to Utah in the championship game, and the next day — Mother’s Day — we boarded that flight home where we learned about Mississippi State’s exclusion from the Women’s College World Series brackets. It was one heartbreak after another. The nerves I felt were a mix of lingering disappointment from the previous day’s loss and growing apprehension about the rest of the season.
Double Elimination
Then things got worse. The following weekend, No. 2-ranked UCLA was knocked out in regionals. As they say in tourney-speak, we were “two and BBQ.” UCLA had never been eliminated in regionals, and the softball world was shocked by our loss to two unranked teams, first to Grand Canyon University and then to San Diego State. It was only the second time in NCAA history that a #2 seed had been eliminated during regionals. Remember that it was Mississippi State that knocked out No.2-ranked Florida State the year before. For weeks after, talk of the “#2 seed curse” echoed throughout the softball world.
Our family held the rare distinction of experiencing both sides of that curse. First, our team knocked out the #2 seed. Then, just a year later, we were the #2 seed that got eliminated.
It was unbelievable, but it happened. People said to us, “Well, at least Thessa wasn’t playing.” But those people did not get it. She was still on the team—showing up to every practice and every game, lifting up her softball sisters from the dugout.
Thessa continued to give everything she had to UCLA. She even missed her sister’s senior weekend to honor her commitment to the Bruins. That year, our family endured two separate, devastating season endings. It was deeply disheartening. There was no blueprint for how to feel. No script for what to say or do.
Looking back, I remember struggling just to put one foot in front of the other, constantly thinking about my girls. If I was that crushed, that depressed by the way things ended, I could only imagine what they and their teammates were feeling. We huddled, and as a family, we took turns checking in on them. We prayed. All we had was each other—and our faith in God.
Two Out Rally
And then, God came through in a big, unexpected way. Chloe signed a contract to play professional softball for the inaugural Women’s Professional Fastpitch league with the Oklahoma City Spark. While it did not erase the nightmare of how her college career ended, it was a powerful step toward our collective healing. It reignited a spark of hope—because Chloe had always known she was not done. She still had more to give, and we were there for it.
Her extensive list of academic and athletic accolades from the university and the SEC—paired with highlight-reel hits, game-changing catches, and ESPN-worthy plays—had led to this moment. Earning both her bachelor’s in business and her MBA—while leading her team—and then making it to the pros gave us the full circle moment we needed.
Energized by a renewed sense of purpose, she stepped into her next chapter: playing the game she has loved since she was three, but now as a professional. She was adulting on her own terms—moving to a new city, joining a brand-new league, and embracing all the growth, challenge, and opportunity that come with a new job and a fresh start. After two seasons with the OKC Spark, she played overseas in New Zealand, and this summer will be suiting up for a new professional team based in Florida.
Beyond the Bruin Bubble
Thessa came back strong for her senior season — healthy, focused, and determined. In 2024, the Bruins clinched the regular season PAC-12 title and went on to win the final PAC-12 tournament of the conference’s storied era, defeating Utah in a hard-fought redemption matchup. They swept regionals and super regionals, punching their ticket back to the Women’s College World Series for the third time in Thessa’s collegiate career. It was epic.
Although the season did not end with a championship, it was deeply fulfilling. Earlier that year, however, Thessa confided in us that she felt a stirring in her heart. She was listening closely for God’s voice and waiting on His guidance. She believed she was being called to enter the transfer portal for her fifth and final year of eligibility. She expressed a desire to venture outside her comfort zone and experience something new. While she had already earned a bachelor’s degree in psychology from UCLA, she now aspired to pursue a master’s degree in a different field—at an institution out of state.
Blue Devil Bound
We encouraged her to trust her instincts and assured her our full support. After a great deal of soul-searching, she chose Duke University—a school that had been on her shortlist since her early recruiting days back in middle school. I had taken her on an unofficial visit there in January 2017, and during her official visit with George in June 2024, she quickly committed to play her final season as a Blue Devil.
We knew it was meant to be when, soon after, she was accepted into Duke’s prestigious Fuqua School of Business to pursue a master’s in management. Everything fell into place within days. In early July, we were moving her to North Carolina, and it felt like one blessing after another. It was as if God had orchestrated a way for Thessa to finish what she started in Durham years ago. We were also gifted with a heartfelt and warm sendoff from the Bruin Bubble, which shares a special connection with the Duke program.
Coming in Clutch
Thessa’s bold and courageous leap of faith was rewarded with an amazing graduate year. Her new teammates voted her Captain. Her coaches honored her with both the Newcomer and MVP awards. She earned the title of ACC Defensive Player of the Year, and in her final series, delivered the Capital One Performance of the Game. When Duke lost to Georgia in regionals — after forcing an unanticipated second game that went into extra innings — it was disappointing, but not demoralizing.
We were proud of Thessa and the team. She had accomplished what she set out to do as a student-athlete—adding to her personal milestones while making a meaningful impact on the program. The season was over, but we were not devastated. Most importantly, Thessa had no regrets. She knew, without a doubt, that she had been obedient to God’s calling and had given Duke everything she could. The Bull City community embraced us wholeheartedly, and we packed as much as we could into that one unforgettable year—from road trips to home games.
Honestly, we found ourselves wishing we had more time, because one year just wasn’t enough. The staff, the players, the families—everyone was fantastic. Thessa will always cherish this chapter of her career, and so will we. Soon, she’ll step into the pro ranks too, joining Chloe on the same Florida-based team. Later this summer, the two of them will suit up for the American Samoan national softball team at the Pacific Mini Games in Palau.
Stillness in the Stands
A few days after regionals, I woke up with a heavy heart. It was not the usual sadness that follows a tough loss—we have endured plenty of those over the years. It was not the familiar post-game frustration of replaying what went wrong or wondering what might have been. This felt different. It was deeper. It was the kind of ache that comes when you know something beautiful has ended—not just for us, but for so many others.
I had been texting with other moms from different programs, and the emotions in our group chats were undeniable. The sense of finality—for our daughters, for everything they had poured into the game for so long—was raw and real. If we, the moms, felt this way… I could only imagine how our daughters were feeling about having to transition to a new reality so abruptly.
In My Feelings
As I sat in quiet prayer, like I do each day, my thoughts turned to all of them. I prayed for the families of wide-eyed rec ball girls starting new seasons with hand-me-down gear, and for the eager All-Stars gripping shiny new bats at their very first tournaments. I prayed for the parents of high school players—those who poured their hearts, time, and resources into the game for years—only to come up just short of the dream of playing at the collegiate level.
Most of all, I prayed for the college athletes whose hearts and minds were not ready for it to end. It hit me hard: while our family has been so immeasurably blessed by softball, so many others are left empty-handed. Since that morning, I have been carrying those unnamed families in my heart—feeling the weight of their heartbreak as if it were my own. I know what it is like to not be ready to walk away from the game, and how strong you must be to walk away anyway.
It takes a different kind of strength to shake off disappointment and show up to watch a game when your own season has just ended. Tuning into a series while quietly thinking, “That could have been us,” and then having the grace to applaud the teams that are still playing—that takes guts. And that’s exactly what we do season after season because our love isn’t just for the glory. It’s for the grind, the grit, and the game itself.
In those moments, we hope their hearts don’t harden. We pray that bitterness doesn’t take root. We try to remember the little girls they once were—who played for the thrill, not the trophies—and we love them through it. Because it’s that love that keeps us coming back game after game.
The Game Goes On
This May and June, like every year, our days are filled with softball. We stream games from multiple devices — at home, in the car while waiting at the gas pump, even while standing in line at the store. We choose restaurants based on which ones have the WCWS playing on their TVs. We cheer for our “bonus daughters” no matter what jersey they are wearing and stay in touch with families and coaches across state lines. We rejoice for the winning team and high-five each other like we are right there in the bleachers. We lament with the teams that don’t get the Ws.
We recognize the anguish on the faces of the girls as they line up, mumbling “good game” through clenched jaws and watery eyes, waiting to reach the locker room where they can finally release the sob that has been choking them. We have been there — clinging to one another, unsure of what comes next. When the cameras pan to the crowd — whether speechless or ecstatic — we know exactly what they are feeling. Because we have lived it, and because that is who we are.
Some were surprised to spot Thessa in Columbia, SC last weekend—but true to form, she made the drive from Duke to support the Bruins at Super Regionals against South Carolina, proudly repping as a UCLA alumna. She was actually supposed to come home last week, but chose to stay on the East Coast just so she could be there for UCLA, knowing there wouldn’t be as many West Coast fans making the cross-country trip. I was thrilled to catch glimpses of her in the stands—on TV and social media—eight-clapping with the families and cheering on her girls. We’re all celebrating the big Bruin victory and will be rooting for them this week. Fours up, baby—let’s bring it home!
To the Families Still in the Line Up
We see you. We know the weight of the second jobs you take on during the off season just to be present during the regular one. We see the fundraising efforts, the maxed-out credit cards from airfare and hotel stays, the worn-down tires from endless miles to and from tournaments. Your normal is the chores that pile up at home and the errands you squeeze between carpools.
Been there, done that. I know what it feels like to wonder how you will make it all work — and then the quiet satisfaction when you manage to get it done. Please do not give up. Do not be discouraged by a coach who destroys dreams or umpires who should not be making calls. If your daughter believes in something, let her believe. I hope you believe, too.
One day, it will end. No matter how tired or stretched thin you are, you will realize it ended too soon. You will reflect on those special moments and wish you had more. You’ll be left with the t-shirts, the hats, and the memories—enough to remind you that you gave your child everything you had to give. The emotional equity you pour into this game will far outweigh any amount of money you spend — and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. The time you invest in your daughter will return to you tenfold in the confident, resilient woman she will become.
Lastly, please never, ever compare your softball journey to anyone else’s. The trajectory of your family’s experience—good or bad—is uniquely yours. It should not be measured by anyone’s stats, playing time, or wins. We all experience success and failure—and those experiences shape us, preparing us to handle even more of both later in life. Whether your daughter makes varsity or not, learns to field and swing at a community college, or wins multiple national championships, praise her perseverance.
Commend her courage to keep showing up and playing the game she loves. We applaud the girls finishing homework in the back seat of the family car during the late Sunday night drive home from a tournament just as much as the women managing midterms and finals during the season—because that kind of balancing act isn’t for the faint of heart. It’s for student-athletes who play with heart.
To the Softball Powers that Be…
I want to close this account of our softball journey with a heartfelt call to action for those in a position to shape the future of women’s professional softball. Be intentional when forming teams, funding programs, and signing checks. Be bold in creating real, lasting opportunities for the thousands of players who still have so much more to give than what they are currently afforded. Build pathways that honor the years these athletes have sacrificed—on fields, in weight rooms, and in classrooms across the country. Cultivate investors who value people over profit. Be mindful of the girls whose college careers ended with a bad call and an unshakable ache for just one more swing.
Do not let their stories fade into silence. If the WNBA can do it, so can you. Our two daughters—and the few dozen women who will play professional softball this summer—should not be the exception. They should be the beginning of something bigger: a system that allows athletes to keep growing the game and inspiring the next generation.
Softball has given them world-class educations, unforgettable experiences, and the kind of character that turns players into role models. Yes, a handful of women get the chance to keep playing after college—but far too many do not. The opportunities simply are not there. Professional softball is thriving around the world—how much longer before the U.S. takes it seriously and gets on board? The players are ready. The fans are loyal. So, where’s the leadership?
There are hundreds of thousands of little girls watching. They beg their parents to take them to games, then wait in line for autographs and photos with their heroes, dreaming that one day it might be them. We have stood in those lines with our daughters. By the grace of God, we made it to the other side of the meet-and-greet table. The faces of the little girls staring back are filled with awe and wonder—and they are watching more closely than you think. Let us invest in that hope. Let us respect these women enough to provide one more season, one more shot, one more chance to say: I am not done yet.
The reality is that many of these women—who have spent two decades chasing greatness on the field—are not ready to step into a traditional career. They are not ready to start families or leave the game behind. Because even after they have left everything on the field, when that final out is called, some of them still are not ready to walk away. It is more than just “getting it out of their system”—it is a deep-rooted desire to give back to the sport that gave them everything.
By Vivian Malauulu
X: @VivianMalauulu
Vivian Malauulu is, first and foremost, the proud mother of four very busy, very competitive student-athletes. She’s also a career educator, a night shift longshore worker on the docks, an elected community college trustee, and a labor union officer. Vivian holds a B.A. in Journalism, an M.A. in Educational Administration, and is almost done with a doctorate focused on skilled workforce development in the age of automation. She consults for fun and freelances when she has something to say. From bleachers to boardrooms, this sports mom juggles conference calls and cross-country games with heart and hustle. Born in Honduras and now rooted in Long Beach, CA, she and her Samoan husband have built a life grounded in faith, fueled by service, and rich in community and culture.
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