For women’s softball players, it’s a living

Softball has made Taryne Mowatt a nomad, but at least she has some company.

She started at Corona Santiago High, moved on to Tucson, where she led the Arizona Wildcats to consecutive national championships, and now she has left the dry desert heat for Midwestern humidity.

The things a young woman will do for the love of a game — including, in her case, stocking up on bug repellent and rosin.

Without the former, her skin swells with every mosquito bite. Without the latter, she can’t grip a softball — a major problem for a pitcher.

“The humidity kills me,” she said. “When I’m out here and I’m drenched in my own sweat, I wonder how people do this every day.”

That’s one question; there are others, including: Why, by choice, would people do what she does these days — especially when the task requires packing up and moving their lives for a far-less-than-lucrative job?

Yet, that’s exactly what Mowatt and 75 other top softball players have done in order to participate in the National Pro Fastpitch League, now the ultimate destination in their sport.

The ultimate in softball isn’t much. The NPF has only four teams — Mowatt plays for the Chicago Bandits; other franchises are based in Akron, Ohio; Nashville; and Kissimmee, Fla. — and the pay ranges from $4,000-$15,000 a season. But even that was enough to coax nine former Olympians away from national team tryouts and into playing exclusively for the NPF this summer.

Over 2 1/2 months, teams play more than 40 games — which can be seen or heard only in person or online. In some cases, the same two teams will play as many as eight times in 11 days.

“There’s definitely a community, especially because there are only four teams,” former UCLA standout Andrea Duran said. “It’s a great thing to be a part of because we all want the league to grow. There’s not one girl in the league that does not agree with the cause.”

That’s why players say they stay after games until they satisfy every girl who wants an autograph. Mowatt, for example, is 25, and part of a generation of softball players who will never get to compete in the Olympics even if softball is restored by 2020.

“Yeah,” Mowatt said with a sigh, “I’m not going to be able to do it. But I have a younger sister who would be in that time frame. A lot of the older players are being unselfish and looking out for players my sister’s age.”

Jessica Mendoza, a former president of the Women’s Sports Foundation, said that without a professional league a sport can fall flat. Players will never reach their peak if they leave the game when they leave college, and women like Mendoza, 30, wouldn’t have a way to play as a means to help support their families.

But even with the pro league, some softball players struggle. Most try to stay within the game during the off-season, running camps and clinics, while others are full-time college or high school coaches.

Duran, 27, helped out with UCLA softball last year, but she remains unsure what work she’ll find come September.

“If we love the sport, we’re going to make it work,” she said.

Despite the strain, there is evidence to suggest the effort is paying off. Mowatt’s team, the Chicago Bandits, draws more than the league average of about 1,000 fans a game. Part of the reason is that Rosemont, Ill., invested in a new stadium for the team that opened this season. At the amateur level, the Women’s College World Series enjoyed record attendance in 2011 despite having one fewer game.

NPF President Cheri Kempf says she gets six or seven phone calls a week about team ownership.

The deciding games of the league’s championship series, Aug. 18-21 in Sulphur, La., will be broadcast to a national audience on ESPN2 and ESPN3, and Kempf promised the league would expand next season — possibly even to the West Coast.

That could spell a homecoming for West Hills native Taylor Schlopy, currently an Akron Racer. The more the league expands, the more spots there are for younger players like her to live out a dream.

As a rookie, Schlopy, 22, has had to adjust to a less-regimented routine than she enjoyed in college at Georgia. But now she says she likes setting her own schedule and being singularly responsible for the development of her career.

When the season’s over, she plans to head back to school to finish work on her degree while giving lessons four days a week.

Asked about her first season, Schlopy’s enthusiasm seems a bit effusive. But it makes sense when one considers that her work is basically to play.

“It’s just such a wonderful life to live,” she said. “I can’t even explain it. This has been the best two months of my life.”

matthew.stevens@latimes.com

twitter: @mattstevenslat