The Women's Side of Sport

I have worked with too many women who have torn their ACLs in recent years.

Too many athletes facing the news they hoped they would never hear. Too many seasons cut short. Too many conversations about surgery, rehabilitation, and what comes next when all they wanted was to keep playing.

And I am so tired.

Tired of seeing someone who has worked so hard face a recovery she never planned for. Tired of trying to find the right words when I know there are no words that can give her back what she has just lost.

Because I know her.

I know how much she cares. I know what she put into getting here. I know the confidence she was building, the role she was growing into, the goals she had for herself.

Then suddenly, we are having a very different conversation.

Sometimes she has years of eligibility ahead of her. Sometimes she is running out of time. Sometimes she has already fought her way back from an injury, and now she is being asked to do it again.

Every situation is different. None of them feels easier, nor fair.

There are moments when I can stay composed for her, listen, and remind her that we will be there. That it may not be that worst thing she is fearing. Then once I am alone in my office, I close the door, and I cry.

Because she only gets so much time to do this.

Because being part of the team and being able to play are different experiences, and I refuse to pretend otherwise.

Because I care about her as a person, and I cannot change nor fix this.

I am tired of telling yet another young woman to be strong. Of saying that she will get through it, that we will support her, that she still belongs here.

I mean every word. I will always mean them.

But I wish I did not have to keep saying them under these circumstances.

I wish she could come to practice and worry about her first touch, positioning, or the next opponent. I wish her biggest frustration could be a missed opportunity in a game.

Instead, she is trying to absorb news that drastically changes the months ahead.

And I am trying to figure out how to support her while quietly questioning everything.

Did I miss something?

Was she tired? Menstruating? Underfed?

Were we doing enough? Was lift once per week enough?

Could we have prevented it?

Those questions stay with me long after games and practices end. I revisit the days leading up to the injury. I think about what we were doing, what I noticed, and what I might have overlooked.

I know that replaying it does not mean I will find an answer. But when you are responsible for a group of athletes you care about, uncertainty can be a heavy thing to carry.

I am tired of carrying it alone. And I wonder how many other coaches are doing the same.

I am also tired of how many questions I still have about the women I coach.

Questions about preparation, fatigue, recovery, and the demands we place on them. Questions about the menstrual cycle and what it may mean for an individual athlete. Questions about what we understand well enough to act on, and what still needs more investigation.

I have found myself wondering, after an injury, “Was she on her period?” or “Where was she in her cycle?”

I am tired of those questions circling in my head without knowing what the answers would actually tell me. I want to understand the evidence well enough to ask useful questions, respect her privacy, and turn uncertainty into an explanation.

Women deserve that care. They deserve conversations about their bodies that are informed, respectful, and free from embarrassment. They deserve to know how their physiology impacts their training, performance, and recovery. How their own awareness and understanding of their bodies can aid in their ability to advocate for rest, breaks, or something else.

And the people supporting them need access to information that helps. Understanding of that same female physiology. That women are not small men. And our bodies are different every week, every day.

I want more attention and funding directed toward understanding women in sport. I want the findings to reach beyond journals and conferences and into the places and spaces where athletes train every day. Into the hands of the strength coaches and athletic trainers. Better holistic care for the entire person.

I want coaches to have practical resources they can understand and use. I want opportunities to learn alongside athletic trainers, strength coaches, and other qualified professionals. I want that support to be accessible to programs with limited staff and limited budgets, too.

Because the questions do not disappear when the resources are stretched.

The athletes are still there. The practices still happen. The decisions still have to be made.

And when someone gets hurt, the impact reaches into every part of her experience.

She may miss the competition, but she may also miss the ordinary things: warming up beside her teammates, being challenged in a drill, feeling tired after a hard practice, knowing what her role will be that day.

She may be surrounded by people who care and still feel lonely.

She may smile when someone checks in and struggle later, when she is on her own.

She may want to talk about her recovery. She may want one conversation that has nothing to do with her knee.

I want to remember all of that.

I want to keep checking in after the initial concern has faded. To keep including her without expecting her to be grateful for a role and journey she never wanted. To make room for frustration, sadness, fear, anxiety, depression, and whatever else she is feeling.

She does not owe anyone an inspiring response to an injury.

We can believe in her ability to get through something difficult and still acknowledge that it is unfair, painful, and exhausting.

I am tired of how quickly we reach for the comeback story. Before she has even had time to process what happened, we can find ourselves talking about how strong she will be when she returns.

I want to be there for the person she is right now, too.

And I want to put more effort into the work that comes before the next injury.

That is why I am working on an injury prevention project for field hockey.

This comes from caring about too many women who have gone through ACL injuries, and wanting to do something useful with the questions and frustration I have been carrying.

I will be sharing the project on The Women’s Side of Sport website and updating it as I go. As I work through research, explore existing resources, and develop materials, I want to make that process available to other coaches.

I intend to share what I am learning, what may help inform our practices, and where questions remain. I want to be clear about what the evidence supports and careful about what it does not.

I also want this work to keep moving. To be something I return to, revise, and build on as I learn more.

I cannot promise that this project will prevent every injury. I cannot go back and give an athlete her season back.

But I can keep learning. I can examine what we currently do. I can seek better information and share it. I can keep asking for women’s health in sport to receive the attention and resources it deserves.

I am so tired of this happening on repeat.

Of another athlete facing that news. Of another conversation where I wish I had more to offer. Of wondering what else we could have done.

I will keep supporting the women in front of me. And I will keep working on this project because their health and their time in the game matter to me.

I want more for them than another opportunity to prove how much they can endure.