Coming Home After the Game 💎

I’ve learned a lot from being a former Division I athlete.

I’ve learned about loss. The kind that comes when you give everything you have and still fall short. I’ve learned how to navigate complex relationships on a team, how to lead, and how to follow. I’ve learned what it means to win - and what it feels like to lose more than just a game.

I went from being one of the best in my state to feeling completely mediocre. I went from constant praise to being called a “cancer” on my team. And that shift from being the best to being the worst -  broke something open in me.

I didn’t know how to cope with those feelings back then. My entire sense of self-worth was wrapped up in my performance. If I didn’t play well, I didn’t feel like I was enough. My value lived in my stats, not my soul.

Now, after being away from the sport for 15 years, I see things so differently.

I believe kids should play multiple sports. They shouldn’t quit everything else just to chase one dream. Because it’s not just about being great - it’s about being grounded. They need to experience the bench. They need to know what it feels like to be the worst player on the team and still show up. They need to learn how to celebrate someone else’s success while still believing in their own.

They also need to experience having multiple coaches - to learn different styles, personalities, and perspectives. But here’s where it matters most: if a coach is harming them emotionally, if their words confuse “player” with “person,” that line must be drawn clearly. A coach should always make it known: “I’m talking to you as an athlete, not attacking who you are as a human being.”

Because who a player is as a person is 100% more important than any statistic on the field.

If that ever comes into question - if a coach makes an athlete doubt their worth as a human being - parents need to step in. Find that athlete a new coach. Abuse should never be a part of sports.

Yes, there needs to be discipline. Yes, there need to be consequences - running laps, being corrected, sitting out after mistakes. But there also needs to be respect, compassion, and belief. A great coach lifts a player up, even when holding them accountable. They don’t bury them to the point of breaking.

It’s the parent’s job to protect their player. And that doesn’t end when the athlete leaves home. Even if your child is in college and reaches out about emotional, verbal, or physical abuse -listen. Watch closely. Ask questions. Do not assume that because they’re grown, they can handle it on their own.

I remember being in college, calling my mom and screaming through tears that I wanted to step in front of a bus. I had teammates battling depression, anxiety, and emotional breakdowns because of how we were treated by coaches. The mistreatment didn’t just crush confidence - it crushed spirits. And the ripple effects are still with many of us to this day.

Athletes are taught to be tough, to push through pain, to never show weakness - but that culture can become dangerous when silence is mistaken for strength. Parents, your athlete still needs you. When they speak, believe them. When something feels off, pay attention.

It’s also so important to prepare athletes for the day when their sport is gone. There’s going to come a time when they’ll never again lace their cleats, pick up a glove, bounce a basketball, or kick a soccer ball at that same level. And if their whole identity and self-worth are wrapped up in who they are as an athlete, that day can feel like the end of the world.

I know this from experience - because when my career ended, I spiraled. The structure, the validation, the adrenaline, the community - it all vanished overnight. I didn’t know who I was without it.

That’s why it’s pivotal to remind young athletes that they are more than their sport. They need an education, a trade, or a passion to fall back on - something that sustains them when the lights go out and the crowds are gone. They need to find joy in other things besides competition.

Because the end of a sport isn’t the end of a story - it’s the start of a new chapter. One where they get to redefine what strength, identity, and success truly mean.

And if they make it out of high school — whether it’s at a junior college, D3, D2, or D1 – they’ve already joined an elite 3% of athletes in the world. That should absolutely be celebrated.

Because what we do on the field is just one part of who we are. The real victory is what we carry forward: discipline, resilience, humility, and the courage to rebuild when the uniform comes off.

 

💎 After the Final Game

If you’ve ever played a sport, you know there’s a moment when it all goes quiet-  when the lights dim, the field empties, and the world expects you to move on. But that silence can be deafening.

If you’re a former athlete, a parent, or someone still healing from what happened on (or off) the field - this is for you:

💎 Breath: Close your eyes and take three deep breaths. With each inhale, say: “I am more than my performance.” With each exhale, whisper: “I am proud of who I am becoming.”

💎 Truth: Write a letter to your younger athletic self. Tell them what you wish they had heard -the praise, the protection, the love. Let them know they were always enough, even when the scoreboard said otherwise.

💎 Tenderness: Move your body today - not to win, not to perform, but to feel. Take a walk, stretch, dance, or throw a ball just for fun. Remember what it feels like to play for joy, not approval.

And when you’re done, whisper this:

“The game ended, but I didn’t. I am still here. I am still strong. I am still becoming.”

With Love and Rebellion, 

Karli 💎