Koby is the one who will be yelling every time his mother, senior Nohea Tano, touches the ball at this weekend's Sprint Hawai'i Invitational. He doesn't budge during breaks, has created his own cheers and raises his fists to pump up mom.

"He's quite a little guy," says grandmother Candy Tano. "For 2 years old he's amazing. He doesn't get up and leave the seat. He's content to sit and watch. He's very intrigued by it all.

"He's really a very easy-going child. I never had any like that."

Candy and husband Ken, a retired police major who now works with the Department of Justice, have seven children. The five oldest live on the Mainland and Maui. Kawika, 25, is a Chaminade student. Nohea, the youngest, will be 21 later this month. There are also 10 grandchildren, going on 11.

"I've been raising kids 30-plus years," Candy says, sounding ready for 30 more.

The latest is Koby. He was born three months after Nohea moved back home a semester into her freshman year at Washington State. The two years that have followed have been a blur, colored warmly by a family that has grown closer while it copes with a schedule that is often chaotic despite precise planning.

Nohea has classes on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. She's gone from 7 in the morning to 7 at night pursuing a sociology degree this single mother hopes will lead to counseling children. She has practical experience with a perceptive 2-year-old who has a remarkable capacity for detail and soothing his mother's soul.

"Koby teaches me every day," Nohea says. "I find out more things about myself. ... I'm always happy with him. Time with him is my time away. It's never stressful."

Candy watches Koby when Nohea is at school, unless her Tuesday-Thursday job as a nurse analyst at Straub goes overtime. Sometimes, Kawika comes to the rescue. Other times Ken pitches child-care relief, with Nohea handing Koby off downtown at lunch.

On Tuesday and Thursday, Nohea watches Koby until Kawika takes over at 2 p.m. so she can get to practice. If she's tired, she pops in a morning video and rests — when she's not singing along with Koby.

If there is a last-minute schedule change or any glitch, the Tanos have become masters of improvisation. Koby has gone to Nohea's classes, but never to practice though UH coach Dave Shoji keeps that option open. Great grandma and a neighborhood friend do some sitting. Kawika has always been available, somehow clearing his hectic schedule.

"It always has a twist to it," Candy says. "Sometimes it's almost comical. I come home just in time for Nohea. Sometimes she's waiting in the car in the driveway. We switch and she takes off."

It is not the existence you would expect of the player considered the outgoing "free spirit" of the team. Tano's responsibilities are infinite, her perspective rare and her time rarely her own. She's grown up at warp speed since her three state titles and all-state years at Kamehameha Schools. Hidden behind the Filipino/Puerto Rican/Hawaiian/-Caucasian and "maybe" Chinese/American Indian smile is a drive that demands results.

Yet her personality is perpetually pleasant and worry-free. In that way, she is much like her son.

"I don't think anybody knows her real schedule," Candy says. "She never sleeps. She doesn't let much get her down though. I've never seen her mad for more than five seconds. She just doesn't dwell too much on what she doesn't have."

Tano believes she is richly blessed.

She has a family that has helped her find a way to play the sport she fell hard for years ago, while still pursuing her professional career. She performs in a place most volleyball players only dream of visiting, in front of her 2-year-old and a family she appreciates more every moment. She starts for the second-ranked team in the country, and has done so since six months after Koby's birth.

"It's hard to be with Koby in the day, be a mom, then have to leave that behind to come and play volleyball," Tano says. "But when I come to volleyball that's my time to be alone, be with myself. It's a hard adjustment but something I need to do."

Tano was an undersized 5-foot-11 middle blocker that first year and has been on the right side the last two, groveling with others of different gifts to try and give the 'Bows punch at the one position they rarely dominate. She is blessed with Lauren Duggins-like foot speed and has become something of a "side-out specialist" with her ability to hit all along the net.

After raising a child, how tough is a set too close to the net?

Tano provides a unique perspective to her team. She is funny, never judgmental and always available to talk. Ironically, all her responsibilities have made her the most relaxed Rainbow Wahine on the court and given her the ability to see, and pass on, what is really important. She can also be charmingly child-like, yet another gift from her son.

"There is something very special about her," says freshman setter Kanoe Kamana'o, whose mother Marsha has been laundering club volleyball uniforms with Candy Tano more years than they can remember.

Maybe what's special is that Tano realized early in life it is not all about her.

"Having Koby has made me grow up. You have to be so responsible but more, you can't be selfish," she says. "You want to do this, but you can't. You have to go home and fend for Koby. I never, never regret that.

"It's the best thing to be at home with Koby. I still can't believe he's mine. Sometimes I just look at him and cry. I can't believe I brought him into the world. It's such a crazy thing that he depends fully on me. He has no worries. It's amazing anyone can feel that way. Anytime with him is good time."

Reach Ann Miller at amiller@honoluluadvertiser.com or 525-8043