The game that I thought would be filled with cheering fans was rather drowned out by the sound of my own heart beating.

All I could feel was my legs shaking and adrenaline in overdrive as my feet hit the floor running. It was my last year of minor lacrosse, and a shot to play in provincials was on the line. All the injuries, practices, tears, friendships, and legacy of this team all came down to one game.

Three periods. 60 minutes.

As captain of this team, the stakes and pressure were high because leadership meant so much more than the letter sewn onto my jersey. Even though lacrosse is a team sport, I felt like the world was on my shoulders.

As the referee dropped the ball for the face-off, we ran out of the gates flying. After two periods of play, we were down by a goal. But there was still one period left 鈥� these next 20 minutes were what we had all practised for.

In the next 20 minutes, I ran harder than I have ever run in my life, double-shifting after double-shifting and truly leaving it all on the floor. But play after play, we couldn’t get a break.

Penalties made me question the referee’s eyesight. We were hitting post after post, and shots just couldn鈥檛 find the back of the net. Then the final whistle blew, and we were bested by a team that everyone in the area knew we should have beaten. We had outplayed them the entire game, yet none of it mattered. Our season was over, and for many others, so was their minor lacrosse career. The dressing room emotions were at an all-time high. I felt like all the hard work I had put in over the years was for nothing.

What do you do when you鈥檙e supposed to be the front of the line and you鈥檝e let your team down?

What do you do when your best isn’t good enough?

I鈥檇 felt that feeling before. The loss itself was heartbreaking, but the weight underneath it: the feeling that I didn鈥檛 belong or wasn鈥檛 worthy of my role and the expectations placed upon me, I鈥檇 felt that all throughout my sports career.

鈥婫rowing up as a young woman in sports and having played sports my entire life meant that very few of my coaches were women, but the women who did coach me showed me what it truly meant to play like a girl. It takes pure grit and strength to succeed in all sports and I see it so clearly in the physical sport of lacrosse.

Being the eldest daughter means that you are always expected to be perfect. Get the perfect report card and score the game-winning goals. But as I’ve watched my younger brothers grow up, I had to accept that they will be faster and stronger than I am even though I have played the sport longer than they鈥檝e been alive. And it鈥檚 not because 鈥淚 run like a girl.鈥� It’s just basic biology.

Never the fastest, never the strongest, and never the standout player. So how do you measure personal success and growth when your achievements seem marginal compared to your family and your peers?

Rather than comparing myself to others, I learned to accept that and sports became about playing my game and showing up. Because at the end of the day, you鈥檒l never feel a sense of personal pride if your only source of gratification is always being unrivaled.

As a female athlete, I have experienced firsthand how players who used to love playing slowly fall out of love with the sport. Girls, sometimes, have to deal with hand-me-down gear and uniforms that were designed to fit the body of a boy. 鈥婳ne in three teenage girls stops playing sports, compared to one in ten boys, and by age 17, 50% of girls have quit playing sports altogether. After playing organised sports for most of my life, I understood it. It鈥檚 the limited support systems, resources for equipment, limited teams, and minimal opportunities; it made sense. This can lead to decreased self-confidence and the feeling that this sport wasn鈥檛 made for you.

So why keep playing?

Sports, to me, are so much more than medals hanging on the wall. It鈥檚 carpool karaoke on the way to a game, late-night practices when everyone would rather be sleeping, and the unforgettable pre-game energy as you’re leaving the dressing room to play in a provincial game.

For me, the end goal was never a signed contract. It originated as an outlet for exercise and an orange slice at halftime. Now, it was about the relationships I’ve gained and my growing love of the game.

This is why I coach. I wanted to give back to my community and to hopefully inspire other young females to continue to play sports. Coaching allows me to mentor other young girls by being that example of an older girl who is supporting and uplifting them.

Through female representation, I hope to empower my players and show them that running like a girl means running your hardest to the ball, sprinting on breakaways, and stepping up to the challenges by trusting in your own strength.鈥�
Having a role model, especially a female one, has positively impacted my life. But looking up to someone isn鈥檛 everything.

You have to become your own person and develop your own unique playing and coaching style. Growing into your own individual person is the only way to be a successful role model to younger girls. Those who are looking for support and encouragement. I try to live by the motto 鈥渂e the coach you wish you had鈥�, because these girls aren鈥檛 looking for a superhero; they’re looking for someone who they can relate to.

Someone who has been in their situation and is able to uplift them and show them that despite everything, they do belong.

I am grateful for my model coaches, and I hope they would be proud to see how much I’ve grown, both as a person and as a role model for other young female athletes.
When I play, the only game I know how to play is my own.

I play like a girl, coach like a girl, lead like a girl, and run like a girl.

鈥淭en turnovers to two assists? That won鈥檛 get you anywhere.鈥�

It鈥檚 the voice I heard in the background. Directed right. at. me.

That鈥檚 what everyone saw. Not the effort. Not the pressure. I was seen, but just not as me.

I think back to Seattle. The game. The last tournament of the fall season.

I used to love this sport. I used to feel calm with the ball in my hands. Now I feel like I鈥檓 being tested every second. Now, every time I step on the court, it feels like I鈥檓 walking on glass. Now, I just hear a voice saying I鈥檓 falling behind.

From the moment warmups started that day, everything felt off. I couldn鈥檛 quiet my thoughts all game and left feeling like I let everyone down, especially myself.

That week was brutal. I was quiet at school, quiet at home. I didn鈥檛 feel like myself and I didn鈥檛 know how to explain it to anyone. Every time I picked up a basketball, I felt a lump in my throat.

At the last practice of the season, I finally talked about what happened: that the weekend didn鈥檛 feel like me. It didn鈥檛 fix everything, but it helped. It reminded me that maybe I was being harder on myself than anyone else.

People think the hardest part of being an athlete is the physical stuff: the conditioning, the training, the weight lifting. But where would you be if it wasn鈥檛 for your mind? No one talks about the quiet stuff, the mental stuff: the pressure, the fear of failure, the feeling of needing to constantly excel in your sport, academics, and in relationships.

I started to wonder if I was mentally weak. I started to wonder if everyone else felt like this. If the opponents on the other team felt the same pressure, the same isolation. And if they did, then we probably had more in common than we thought.

Maybe in all of those battles against each other, in light and dark, we were all struggling quietly to just hold it all together.

鈥淓very time I picked up a basketball, I felt a lump in my throat.鈥�

Being a student-athlete can feel isolating. We balance school, sports and expectations, while feeling like no one sees everything we鈥檙e carrying. That鈥檚 why I wanted to be part of the Student Athlete鈥檚 Council: not just to be seen, but to help others feel seen for who they are:

Like Max, who always keeps the energy high.

Cristiano and Caroline, who are gritty and tough and never shy away from the toughest matchups and challenges.

Ava, who can quiet and focus her mind while she鈥檚 on the blocks before the gun goes off.

Isaac, who constantly celebrates his teammates and pushes everyone to do better.

I鈥檝e learned how important it is to support others when they feel like giving up and to give credit to those who keep showing up, especially when it鈥檚 hard.

It鈥檚 not about being perfect. It鈥檚 about persistence. It鈥檚 about knowing your teammates are struggling too, even if they don鈥檛 say it out loud. A teammate of mine leaned over during the game and said, 鈥淪top thinking. Just play.鈥� She reminded me that leadership also means listening and lifting others up.

鈥淚 started to wonder if everyone else felt like this. If the opponents on the other team felt the same pressure, the same isolation. And if they did, then we probably had more in common than we thought.鈥�

I鈥檝e said that exact same phrase to my teammates before. I鈥檝e tried to be that voice for others. But in the moment, I needed someone to be that voice for me. And that teammate stepped in when I was drowning in a voice that wasn鈥檛 my own.

Sports have taught me resilience and leadership and those lessons don鈥檛 stop when the season is over. So it鈥檚 time to go beyond my own team to make sure all athletes feel supported and valued. It’s leadership rooted in empathy, not ego. It’s also about belonging, growth, and giving back to the people and programs that have shaped us.

I hope StAC encourages younger athletes to understand that being involved in sports is not just about titles or stats. It鈥檚 about community, encouragement and consistency. It鈥檚 about shaving and bleaching your head after a big win to hype up your team like Cristian, showing up after three practices, volunteering and still being positive like Caitlin and Declan, and coaching junior squads while still competing on your own team like Luca and Tia. Being a part of StAC means stepping beyond my own team to help build an environment where all athletes feel seen.

鈥淚t’s leadership rooted in empathy, not ego. It’s also about belonging, growth, and giving back to the people and programs that have shaped us.鈥�

I鈥檝e learned that the most impactful leaders aren’t always the loudest or the ones with the best stats. They’re the ones who stay committed, support others, and lead with compassion. Sometimes, leadership looks like being the voice for a teammate who’s struggling. And sometimes, it鈥檚 about using your own to be honest about your struggles, so that others feel less alone.

I started playing football when I was 10 years old. I picked it up quickly and fell in love with the sport immediately. I live in Richmond where there aren鈥檛 high school football teams so I played in a community football team. I was the wide receiver.

My first major injury happened in the second year I was playing on Team BC when I was 16. In the gold medal game, someone landed on me and broke my collarbone. That injury sidelined me for the entire summer. I struggled mentally and went through what felt like injury depression. I was stuck at home, unable to do much, and had to rediscover who I was outside of football.

The injury was a blessing in disguise. At the time, everyone wanted to play wide receiver, so, while injured, I taught myself how to play defensive back (DB) by watching films鈥攕omething I had already done growing up in community football. When I finally returned, there was a fire in me to come back stronger. I played both wide receiver and DB.

I came to 天美传媒 for my Grade 11 year. For the first time, I was on a strong team where I could rely on my teammates. The brotherhood was something I had never experienced before. I trained hard all summer, and by camp, I had naturally stepped into a leadership role. With that confidence, I began playing more freely. We had a strong season. In the playoffs, we faced the second-ranked team while we were ranked ninth. Their receiver was ranked at the top statistically in every category. As the DB, I followed him all game, and he didn鈥檛 catch any balls. Unfortunately, they still beat us which ended our season.

In early spring camps, disaster struck again. I felt my knee pop and bruised the meniscus. I rushed back too soon and played in a tournament despite warnings. That decision was pure arrogance because I was thinking about myself and showing my talents instead of thinking of the team. During the game, my knee buckled again, and on a change of direction, it snapped鈥攍oud like a gunshot. I tore multiple ligaments.

This injury crushed me because I had to accept that I wouldn鈥檛 play my senior high school season. I felt like I let my team down. My mental health suffered badly for weeks, but eventually my mindset shifted from 鈥淲hy me?鈥� to 鈥淲hat now?鈥� I focused on rehab, small milestones like running again, and mental strength.

I had surgery the summer before Grade 12. I started again from zero. School helped me mentally, and my recovery progressed faster than expected. I committed myself fully to rehab and growth.

Though Canadian colleges stopped recruiting me, a blessing in disguise was learning about prep schools in the U.S.A. I took a risk, connected with an agent, and doors began opening again. My goal is to be fully cleared to play by July 2026, attend prep school for two years, and earn a Division 1 opportunity. Long-term, I want to play professionally or stay in sports as a coach or physical therapist.

Everyone鈥檚 recovery path is different. Injuries teach you through trial and error. Don鈥檛 ask 鈥淲hy me?鈥濃�攁sk 鈥淲hat now?鈥� Doing nothing gets you nothing. Doing something gets you closer. Life will throw curveballs, but there鈥檚 always a blessing in disguise鈥攅ven if you can鈥檛 see it yet.