Taylor McInerney and her 16-month-old son, Cal, could’ve logged a marathon with how many laps they took up and down the aisles of their six-hour, 24-minute Southwest flight to Orange County.
Cal had no interest in staying put in one of the navy-blue padded seats to watch another episode of Ms. Rachel, the YouTube videos that help his speech. He was far more invested in waving at the girls scattered throughout the cabin — girls dressed in cream and crimson sweatshirts that read ‘Indiana Water Polo’ in bold script.
They weren’t just friendly strangers. They were McInerney’s Division I water polo players, and they were headed to California for a week of training and competition. Cal was along for the ride.
This is life in season for the Hoosiers. But while most coaches spend flights reviewing game film or strategizing with staff, Taylor chases a toddler. And she’s perfectly fine with that. Being a mom never stops. Neither does being a head coach.
There are only 24 hours in a day. Taylor needs all of them.
“I’ve had to bring him to film, too,” Taylor said. “And we’re just making it work.”
There’s no such thing as a typical day. One morning it’s teething and team meetings. The next, it's daycare drop-off followed by poolside prep for a nationally-ranked opponent. It’s chaos with a rhythm. Taylor isn’t just balancing two lives — she’s weaving them together.
There are only two seasons in the McInerney household: football season and water polo season. Say “Coach” in their home, and two heads will turn; her husband, Ryan, a quality control coach for Indiana.
Despite what Indiana athletic director Scott Dolson likes to joke, the two didn’t lock eyes over donuts at a staff meeting and fall in love. They met the modern way — through a dating app. Which one? They’re not saying. But they’re one of the rare success stories to come out of swiping right.
Back then, Taylor had just moved to Bloomington and was looking to meet new people. Ryan was already deep into football season, working under head coach Tom Allen and alongside his dad, Jeff.
Life looks a little different now. Since welcoming Cal in December 2023, their daily schedule revolves around one thing: his car seat.
During water polo season, Taylor drops Cal off at daycare by 7 a.m. to make it to her 7:30 practice. Film sessions often run past closing time, so Ryan steps in for pickup. Somewhere in between, Taylor’s “lunch break” usually involves heading over to Memorial Stadium to unlock Ryan’s car, transfer the car seat, and reinstall it — just part of the ever-changing playbook the McInerneys call life.
That's only a typical day. Things happen. Daycare closes. The pool doesn’t. Most coaches' offices hold memorabilia and scouting reports. Taylor’s office holds those things, but it also holds a plethora of toys tucked away underneath the table. When Cal has to come to practice, her office becomes a playroom. Markers and rubber figurines scatter the floor while Ms. Rachel is propped up on the corner of the desk, far enough so he can see it but can’t reach the phone.
Cal McInerney came into the world just a month before the 2023-2024 Division I water polo season was set to begin. He was born on a Sunday; four weeks later, Taylor was back with her team, coaching them through training camp. The Hoosiers played without her for their fall games due to pregnancy flying restrictions, but Taylor stayed in the mix for the rest of the ninth-month endeavor.
“Our other games were at Michigan, and I didn't want to risk giving birth in northern Indiana, in like some barn, so I chose to stay back here,” Taylor said.
She describes this so nonchalantly, as if her maternity leave was not cut short because she had a whole other group of human beings relying on her. Finding out she was pregnant was just as casual. There was no grand announcement. No gender reveal. Her parents, Theresa and Trevor Dodson, don’t even remember how they heard the news.
What they do remember is what came over them when they realized what this meant for her coaching career.
"I was really worried, just because I know what it takes,” Theresa said. “You know, we have some friends that coach too, and we see what they miss out on because they're with their team, and it's not like you can miss stuff, and because it’s your team, you're responsible.”
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Women held only 42.5 percent of head coaching positions for NCAA Division I women’s programs in 2023, per AP News. Half of the Division I women’s water polo head coaches are male. Even if they have a newborn at home, they won’t have to worry about breastfeeding schedules or postpartum recovery while doing their jobs. Taylor does.
Sometimes, she’s the only mom on deck. Sometimes, she’s the only woman. But what matters to Taylor isn’t who’s missing — it’s what she can show by being present.
The funny thing is Taylor wasn’t even supposed to coach at all. She pursued a degree in Media Studies from University of California-Berkeley while also leading her water polo team to a silver medal at the 2011 NCAA championships her senior year. While earning her MBA at Wagner College in Staten Island, New York, she spent her spare time serving as a graduate assistant. Taylor’s time with the Seahawks hooked her into the world of coaching, and when an assistant position at Indiana opened, it was a no
brainer. After one season, she was promoted to the head job.
A college coach can be one of the most impactful people an athlete comes across in their young career. That’s why Taylor does it.
“I don't take for granted the fact that I get to be a part of their journey right now,” she said.
That 2023-2024 season, she simultaneously led Indiana water polo to its best season since 2018 and her son through his first four months of life. The Hoosiers finished with 20-plus wins, nine wins over ranked opponents and a victory over rival Michigan for the first time since 2015. At the same time, Cal was going through his four-month-old sleep regression.
It’s a little different caring for a 16-month-old, though. That’s why Taylor and Ryan can’t do it alone. No one can, especially when your jobs revolve around nights and weekends.
The underground network of coaches' wives is a real thing. There are 45 people on Curt Cignetti’s staff and most have families of their own with little feet running around Memorial Stadium. But what happens when your wife is a coach, too? Taylor gets that same level of support from the other football wives. They all share babysitters and even will step in to watch Cal if Taylor and Ryan are in a pinch. More than most, they know how unpredictable a coach’s schedule can be.
Still, in Cal’s one year of life, he’s already traveled more than most adults. The Hoosiers crisscrossed the country nine times in his first four months. It almost became an escape from the sleepless newborn nights, and a way for Taylor’s players and staff to see just how much work it takes to do both.
“I’m hoping that when they're going through similar phases in their life, they can think back and say, oh, Taylor did this,” she said. “Like, ‘She was able to make it work with us and our travel, I can do it too.’”
Even when she’s off the deck, Taylor’s coaching brain doesn’t switch off. Before Cal, she’d spend her evenings dissecting practice, replaying mistakes and matchups in her head. Her mind rarely rested — not out of pressure, but out of passion. But now, the moment she picks Cal up from daycare at 5:30, the clock shifts. It's a full sprint. Dinner. Bath. Bedtime. No pause, no rewind. Those two hours are non-negotiable, and for Taylor, they’ve become a reset.
Motherhood has sharpened her ability to compartmentalize. There’s no lingering over game film when Cal wants to stack blocks or splash in the tub. The mental shift from coach to mom happens fast, and it’s given her clarity. She’s learned to draw firmer lines between work and home, even when the two constantly blur.
At times, it’s hard not to feel stretched thin. She’s used to being the one everyone needs — her team, her staff, her son. There were moments this
season when Cal, now more alert and aware, leaned on Ryan more than her. He's a total dad’s boy right now, she admits, even if it stings. In the fall, he was all hers. Now, Ryan’s schedule often gives him more time at home. But that ebb
and flow is familiar. Even their dog once chose favorites depending on who was around more.
It’s another lesson in perspective. There’s only so much of her to go around, and that has to be OK. She’s not just showing her players how to lead a team. She’s showing them how to lead a life — a full, demanding, joyful, and very human one.
“She's been awesome,” Ryan said. “I knew she could do it, and she didn't really miss a beat on any of that stuff. If anything, she just gets better when things get tougher.”
Now, Cal is at the age where he can come along. While that might mean extra work for Taylor, it is also her son getting to see what the world sees her accomplishing every day.
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Taylor’s marathon-esque numbers from that flight to Orange County could’ve been matched on the sideline of the Hoosiers’ final home game against Michigan. Her Adidas Superstars — with a crimson stripe, of course — were in constant motion as she paced the deck, directing traffic and motioning for her
players to push the ball forward.
Her shoulders dropped as the final buzzer echoed through the pool. Indiana had pulled off a 14-11 senior night win, a capstone moment in a season that demanded so much from its coach.
But the job wasn’t over.
Two tiny socks, toddler-sized and cotton, appeared at the edge of the deck, padding cautiously across the slick surface. They were followed closely by two much larger Indiana-branded Adidas sneakers.
Ms. Rachel had once again lost her audience. The moment Cal spotted his mom, the screen didn't matter. The markers he’d been clutching — green and red, slightly slobbery, a little chewed — were tossed aside as he ran, arms outstretched, toward her.
With a laugh and a swoop, Taylor scooped him up. His grin said it all. Mom
had done it — another day, another win, another moment where everything came together. And now, witness to a kind of applause that can't be measured.
In her arms, Cal clapped — not because he understood everything she’d balanced to get there, but because he didn’t have to. He saw his mom. And that was enough.
