The Empty Chair by the Pool: Bryant University and the Unpaid Diving Coach Position

The pool was eerily quiet on that Tuesday morning. No whistle, no splashing, only sunlight streaming through the glass roof onto a water surface as still as a mirror that had never been disturbed. I stood there, looking at the white plastic chair placed beside the control table — the chair meant for the person who would sit there, watching every dive, every spin, every touch of the water. The empty chair. And Bryant University is looking for someone to fill it. The job posting was published with a humble title: "Volunteer Assistant Diving Coach." No salary, no stipend, no benefits. Just a brief description of the work: assisting the head coach in the day-to-day training of diving student-athletes, planning and conducting practices, supporting recruiting efforts, and following all university, conference, and NCAA rules. Interested candidates should submit a resume and a brief statement of interest via email to Katie Cameron. That's all. No further details. But the silence of this posting speaks volumes. Bryant University is a Division I program in the America East Conference — a mid-major school, not a Power Five. Here, the diving team typically has only one or two paid coaches, and this volunteer position is a piece of a larger picture: how American college athletic programs cope with tight budgets. I've been following American college swimming and diving programs for over a decade. From my times sitting by the pool at NCAA meets, I've noticed an unwritten rule: mid-major programs often rely on volunteer staff to compensate for staffing shortages. They don't have the budget to pay a full-time assistant, but they still need someone to stand by the pool, hold the whistle, watch every dive, and more importantly — represent the program on recruiting trips. This position doesn't require specific degrees or certifications. No USA Diving coach certification, no CPR requirement, no safety training. This is both an opportunity and a risk. An opportunity for those just starting their coaching careers, wanting to accumulate NCAA experience. A risk for the program, when there's no minimum standard to screen the actual competence of applicants. But perhaps the most interesting aspect lies in the structure of this role. In the NCAA system, the "volunteer coach" position is a recognized but tightly regulated mechanism. The NCAA limits the number of "countable coaches" in each program. By using volunteers, schools can add staff without exceeding this limit, while also avoiding additional budget expenditures. This is a structural solution, not an act of charity. However, this role also raises a larger question about the NCAA recruiting system. The person hired will participate in recruiting — a high-compliance-risk area. The NCAA has strict rules about contact periods, evaluation periods, and dead periods with prospective athletes. A volunteer who hasn't been trained on these rules could inadvertently violate them, causing serious consequences for the entire program. I remember sitting in a press conference at an NCAA meet once, when a compliance director told me: "People think recruiting is the head coach's business. But in reality, the biggest mistakes often come from those in the lowest positions — those who don't know what they're not allowed to do." That statement has haunted me every time I see a job posting that doesn't mention compliance training. But perhaps, the most thought-provoking aspect of this posting isn't what it says, but what it doesn't say. No start date. No description of the program's achievements. No promise of an advancement path. This silence could reflect an urgent staffing need — a gap that needs to be filled quickly after someone left. Or it could reflect a program in a rebuilding phase, without clear direction. In the broader context, this posting is a small data point in a larger trend: American college athletic programs are increasingly dependent on unpaid staff. As budgets tighten, as tuition rises, as schools must balance athletic investment and academics, volunteer positions become a default solution. But this solution has its price: training quality can suffer, and talented young people are forced to work without pay to accumulate experience. I've met many coaches who started from volunteer positions. Some have become excellent head coaches. Others quit after a year, exhausted from balancing unpaid work and personal financial needs. This position, with all its silence, is opening a door — but where that door leads, no one knows. The white chair by the pool is still waiting. Someone will sit down there, pick up the whistle, and begin their journey in the world of American college coaching. They will learn to read every dive, to talk to young athletes nervous before each competition, to stand firm when results don't meet expectations. And they will do all of this without receiving a single dollar of salary. But perhaps, the real value of this position isn't about money. It's about the opportunity to stand by the pool, to witness moments that no one else sees: the moment an athlete overcomes fear, the moment a perfect dive follows hundreds of failures, the moment the water breaks and everything becomes right. Those moments cannot be bought with money. Bryant University is looking for someone willing to sit in that empty chair. And in a world where everything is measured by financial value, perhaps the bravest thing is to accept a role with no financial value — but with human value. Because sometimes, the most important things in sports aren't what's on the scoreboard, but what happens in silence, by the pool, where an empty chair waits to be filled.