My Journey to Excellence — The Story Behind SlapYOUniversity
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[00:00:00] What does it take to go from a little girl growing up in Louisville, Kentucky, to competing in three women's College World Series, playing professional softball, working as a neonatal intensive care nurse, building a career in corporate America, and ultimately creating a platform dedicated to helping athletes unlock their full potential?
The answer isn't talent alone. It's resilience,
It's adaptability, and it's learning how to keep moving forward when life doesn't go according to plan. Welcome to the very first episode of the SLAPYOUniversity podcast. I'm Coach India Chiles, and I couldn't be more excited that you're here. Whether you're an athlete chasing a starting position, a parent helping your daughter pursue her dreams, a coach looking to develop more confident players, or an instructor trying to make a greater impact on the game, this podcast is for you.
The mission of SLAPYOUniversity is simple: to educate, empower, and inspire athletes, coaches, and families through the art and science of [00:01:00] slap hitting, athlete development, and performance. In future episodes, we'll talk about recruiting, scholarships, confidence, mindset, leadership, player development, and of course, slap hitting.
But before we dive into all of that, I think it's important that you know who I am.
Not the statistics or the awards, not the resume,
the person.
Because the truth is, SLAPYOUniversity didn't begin when I launched a website. It didn't begin when I started hosting clinics, and it definitely didn't begin when I hit record on this podcast.
It started years ago on a softball field in Louisville, Kentucky, and it started with a young athlete who simply loved the game and was willing to work for every opportunity she earned. So let's go back to the beginning. I grew up in Louisville, Kentucky, and like so many young athletes, I fell in love with softball early.
My parents put me in T-ball when I was four years old. Now, I'm one of seven kids. [00:02:00] Yes, seven. So my parents deserve a standing ovation for surviving that alone. They've been married for more than fifty years and somehow managed to put all seven of us through college.
Looking back, that's one of the greatest examples of commitment and sacrifice that I've ever witnessed. Softball quickly became more than just a sport for me. It became the place where I learned discipline, it taught me teamwork, it taught me resilience, and maybe most importantly, it taught me confidence.
I explored a lot of different interests growing up. I played the cello for six years. I ran track. I played basketball throughout high school, and I genuinely enjoyed all of those activities. But softball was different. There was something about the game that challenged me and rewarded me and fulfilled me in a way nothing else could.
By the time I reached high school, most people knew me as a speed player and as a power hitter. What many people don't know is that I was a right-handed [00:03:00] hitter throughout my recruiting process and at the beginning of my college career.
And honestly, I loved hitting for power. I loved to drive the ball. I loved trying to hit home runs. I enjoyed that a lot more than bunting and slapping singles. But I also had big dreams, and part of that came from watching my older brother. He was two years ahead of me and was a superstar basketball player.
Every week, it seemed like he was on television, in the newspaper, or being recruited by another college program. Everyone knew who he was, and if I'm being completely honest, I wanted that too. I wanted to shine as brightly on the softball field as he did on the basketball court. Eventually, that dream led me to the University of Tennessee,
and that is where everything changed.
Like many freshmen, I arrived on campus with big goals and high expectations. I was excited and confident, ready to compete. Then reality [00:04:00] hit. Every player on our roster had been a star somewhere. Every player had been successful, and every player had been recruited because they were exceptional athletes.
And suddenly, I wasn't the biggest fish in the pond anymore. I only had ten at-bats my freshman year. Ten. For someone who had always been on the field, always been a contributor, always been one of the best players on her team, that was hard. Like, really hard. I spent most of my freshman year pinch running.
Thankfully, speed had always been part of my game, so I embraced the role and did my best to help the team. But deep down, I wanted more. I wanted to contribute with a bat in my hands. I wanted to be in the lineup. I wanted to make a bigger impact. At the end of the season, I sat down with my coaches and shared something I'd never really experienced before.
I told them how uncomfortable it was not being on the field, how difficult it was to adjust, [00:05:00] and that's when they made a suggestion that would completely change the trajectory of my career. They told me to try slap hitting. Now, if I'm being honest, that wasn't exactly the answer I wanted to hear. I loved hitting for power, driving the balls into the gaps.
I loved the idea of being the player who could change the game with one swing. Slap hitting was not part of my identity, at least not yet. But I also understood something important. I had a choice to make. I could keep doing what I'd always done and hope for a different result, or I could trust the people around me, embrace something uncomfortable, and give myself a chance to earn more opportunities.
So I went home that summer determined to figure it out. I wish I could tell you I was excited. I wasn't. I wish I could tell you I was confident. I definitely wasn't. The truth is, I was scared, I was frustrated, and I was not [00:06:00] convinced it was gonna work.
But I had committed to the University of Tennessee, I had committed to my teammates, and quitting was never an option, so I got to work every day. My high school coach allowed me to use the field whenever I wanted. A local college pitcher agreed to throw batting practice for me. And day after day, week after week, I showed up.
There were no crowds, no social media posts, no highlights. Nobody was watching. It was just me, a softball field, and a decision to keep going. Looking back now, that summer taught me one of the greatest lessons of my life. Success is usually built when nobody's paying attention. The victories everyone celebrates are often created in private long before anyone sees the results, and eventually, those results started showing up.
When I returned to Tennessee as a sophomore, I wasn't the same player who had left campus. I had developed a new skill set. I had a new mindset, and most importantly, I had [00:07:00] developed confidence through preparation. That season, I started in fifty-five games and hit three fifty-three From 10 at-bats as a freshman to becoming an everyday contributor, that experience changed everything.
Not just my career, my perspective. Because I realized something incredibly important. I didn't have to look like everyone else to be successful. I didn't have to win the same way everyone else won. I didn't have to become somebody else. I simply needed to become the best version of myself. And once I embraced that idea, everything began to open up.
Over the next few seasons, I had the privilege of helping our team reach four NCAA tournaments and three consecutive Women's College World Series appearances. Even now, those experiences are difficult to put into words. When you're young, you dream about playing on the biggest stages. You imagine the crowds, you imagine the pressure.
You imagine what it would feel like to compete against the best players in the [00:08:00] country.
Then one day you're actually standing there and you realize something. The biggest moments aren't really about the spotlight. They're about the preparation. They're about the teammates beside you. They're about all the sacrifices that nobody sees. What I remember most isn't a statistic. It's the people, it's the bus rides, the practices, it's the conversations, it's the belief we had in one another.
One of the most memorable moments came during our two thousand and seven run to the National Championship Series. Our team finished with the best result in program history at the time. And despite everything my body was going through, I hit five hundred during the Women's College World Series and earned a spot on the All-Tournament team.
Those accomplishments were special, but they were built on years of repetition, years of failure, years of adjustment, years of learning how to trust the process. And that's a lesson I want every athlete listening to hear, because social media often [00:09:00] shows just the highlights.
It shows the trophies, the championships, the scholarship offers, the celebrations. What it rarely shows is the work, the setbacks, the self-doubt, the early mornings, the late nights, the injuries, and the tears. Success isn't a moment. Success is a process, and learning to trust that process changed my life.
By my senior season, everything seemed to be coming together. I entered the year as the top returning hitter in the SEC by batting average. That year, I hit four fifty-nine, collected eighty-nine hits, stole forty-four bases, hit five forty-four in conference play, and became the first player in Tennessee softball history to be named SEC Player of the Year.
I was honored as a first-team All-American and academic All-American. And when my career at Tennessee ended, I held several program records. Those [00:10:00] accomplishments meant a lot.
But there was a side of that season most people never saw.
What many people don't know is that I played my senior season with a completely torn labrum in my shoulder and a completely torn ACL and meniscus in my right knee.
Most people only see the finished product. They see the statistics, the awards, the recognition. What they don't see is what an athlete is carrying behind the scenes. My shoulder injury happened early in the season.
My knee injury happened during postseason play while stealing a base. And yet, somehow, we kept moving forward.
Now, let me be very clear. This isn't a story about toughness. It's a story about perspective. Because injuries have a way of teaching you what really matters. They teach gratitude and patience. They teach resilience, and they remind you very quickly that nothing should ever be taken for granted. After the Women's College World Series, I was invited to USA Softball [00:11:00] Olympic Team Trials.
For many athletes, that's the dream, and honestly, it was one of mine too. But I knew what my body was dealing with. I knew what the scan said. I knew the reality. And after a lot of prayer and reflection, I made one of the hardest decisions of my athletic career. I chose not to attend. Not because I didn't want to or because I wasn't honored, But because I knew I couldn't compete at the level that team deserved. Instead, I left Oklahoma City and returned to Knoxville. I began surgeries, rehab, recovery. The goal wasn't Olympic trials anymore. The goal was simply getting healthy enough to play professional softball.
And by the grace of God, that's exactly what happened. A year later, I was healthy enough to report to Akron, Ohio, and begin my professional career. Looking back, that season taught me something I still carry with me today. Sometimes the strongest thing you can do [00:12:00] isn't holding on. Sometimes it's having the wisdom to let go of one opportunity so you can prepare for the next one
When my professional playing career eventually came to an end, I learned another lesson that would shape the rest of my life. Softball prepares you for much more than softball. For so many athletes, the end of a playing career can feel overwhelming. For years, your identity is tied to the game.
Your schedule revolves around practices, workouts, competitions, and goals. Then one day, that chapter closes, and you're left asking a difficult question: Who am I now? Fortunately, softball had given me more than athletic skills. It had taught me discipline, preparation, communication and leadership, resilience, and those lessons opened doors I could never have imagined.
I became a neonatal intensive care nurse, caring for some of the most fragile patients imaginable. Talk about [00:13:00] perspective. In sports, we often think our biggest challenges happen on a field. Working in the NICU taught me very quickly that life is much bigger than softball.
Every day, I witness courage, faith, strength, and families fighting battles far greater than any game. And that experience changed me. It taught me gratitude, it taught me empathy, and it taught me never to take a single day for granted. Later, I transitioned into pharmaceutical sales with Johnson & Johnson.
Then I had the opportunity to return to Tennessee and serve as a volunteer assistant coach under the same program that helped shape my life. Eventually, I moved into sports sales with BSN Sports. Looking back, those career changes may seem unrelated, but they really weren't because every opportunity required the same foundational skills that softball had taught me.
You show up prepared, you communicate effectively, you build relationships, [00:14:00] you stay resilient, and you keep learning. The game had prepared me for all of it. And even though my career path continued evolving, one thing never changed: my connection to softball. Not long after college, I found myself in high demand for slap hitting instruction.
Parents were calling, athletes were reaching out, coaches were asking questions. Every day seemed to bring another request, another lesson, another clinic, another athlete looking for help. At first, I was super grateful, but eventually I became overwhelmed. And if I'm being honest, there was a period of time when I wanted to walk away from it all.
Not because I stopped loving the game, but because I felt like softball was becoming my entire adult identity. And I wanted people to know me as India, not just the softball player, not just the slap hitter, not just the coach. I wanted balance and I wanted space. I wanted to figure out who I was away [00:15:00] from athletics One day, I shared those feelings with my oldest sister, and she gave me a perspective I'll never forget.
She looked at me and essentially said, "India, this is a gift, a gift from God." She reminded me that the influence, the opportunities, and the ability to help athletes weren't burdens, they were blessings. And she was right. That conversation changed the way I viewed my purpose. Instead of seeing the demand as pressure, I started seeing it as responsibility. A responsibility to share what I'd learned, a responsibility to serve, and a responsibility to simply help the next generation.
That mindset eventually led me to launch Slapper Nation in two thousand eleven. At the time, I wanted to create a way to reach more athletes than traditional one-on-one lessons allowed.
So I began traveling city to city, clinic to clinic, working with groups of athletes who wanted to learn the speed game. And [00:16:00] honestly, those clinics were incredible. We brought together the best collegiate slap hitters, elite-level track athletes, experienced instructors, and hundreds on hundreds on hundreds of young players eager to learn.
What I loved most wasn't teaching mechanics, it was watching confidence grow and seeing athletes realize that they had another path to success. I've seen players who were considering quitting the sport discover a new skill set and completely transform their careers.
I've watched athletes go from overlooked to highly recruited. I've watched confidence replace doubt, and I've watched players accomplish goals they never thought were possible.
Because at its core, coaching isn't really about mechanics. It's about helping people become more than they believe they could be. As life evolved, so did my opportunities.
I eventually founded Southeast Championship Training, or SCT, with the goal of helping raise the level [00:17:00] of softball in Middle Tennessee.
That organization grew beyond Tennessee to more of a national level to where I was coaching kids from eleven different states on my national team.
Athletes developed, teams competed, and once again, I found myself pursuing a mission much larger than wins and losses. Later, another opportunity arrived when I accepted the head coaching position at Emory University in Atlanta, Georgia, and that role continues to challenge and inspire me every single day.
Every stop along the way has taught me something valuable. Every athlete taught me something, every parent taught me something, every coach taught me something.
And all of those experiences slowly began forming a vision, a vision that would eventually become SLAPYOUniversity. And no, SLAPYOUniversity isn't just about slap hitting. It's much bigger than that. , We'll teach mechanics, we'll talk strategy, we'll discuss recruiting, we'll break down player development.
But [00:18:00] at its heart, SLAPYOUniversity exists to create opportunities because talent alone does not guarantee opportunity. Access matters. Guidance matters. Mentorship matters. Education matters. I believe athletes deserve access to quality instruction no matter where they live. I believe coaches deserve resources that help them teach more effectively.
I believe parents deserve support as they navigate the recruiting and development process. And most importantly, I believe athletes deserve someone who genuinely believes in their potential.
Because I've lived the journey. I've experienced success, I've experienced failure. I've faced setbacks. I've reinvented myself, and I've learned that growth often happens in the moments when things don't go according to plan.
That's why this platform exists, to help athletes grow, to help coaches lead, to help families navigate the journey, and to build a community dedicated to excellence. [00:19:00] As we wrap up this very first episode, I wanna thank you for spending this time with me. I hope my story has helped you understand not only who I am, but why I'm so passionate about helping athletes reach their goals.
If there's one thing I hope you take away from today's episode, it's this: Your current situation does not determine your future. The player who only had ten at-bats as a freshman became an SEC Player of the Year. The athlete who doubted whether slap hitting would work built an entire career around teaching it.
The young girl from Louisville, Kentucky, found herself competing on some of the biggest stages in the sport, and none of that happened because the path was easy. It happened because I kept moving forward, one adjustment, one challenge, one opportunity at a time, and you can do the same. In future episodes, we'll dive deeper into recruiting, confidence, leadership, athlete development, mindset, and of course, the art of slap hitting.[00:20:00]
If you found value in today's episode, I'd love for you to subscribe, share it with another athlete, parent, or coach, and explore everything SLAPYOUniversity has to offer. Until next time, keep learning, keep competing, keep creating opportunities, and remember, your next level is waiting. I'm Coach India Chiles, and I'll see you on the next episode of the SLAPYOUniversity Podcast.
