Growing up, many of us are thrown into sports our parents choose for us. They drop us off at practice as we cling to their sides, not wanting them to leave, without realizing that some of our favorite memories are waiting for us on the other side.
It’s the teammate who picks you up when you fall, the long drives home after a tough loss, the game-day superstitions, the snack packs, and the long tournament days that may feel like ordinary parts of growing up, but eventually, they become memories and lessons that shape us into the people we are meant to become.
I was the kid who tried every sport. From T-ball to soccer to softball to basketball, I wanted to do it all. But once I got to middle school and was introduced to the world of tryouts, I was intimidated. It was no longer a game your parents signed you up for where you were guaranteed a spot alongside your friends. Suddenly, it felt like it was about winning, competing, and proving you were good enough to play with the best.
As much as I loved being on a team and playing sports, the more competitive they became, the more I lost motivation. The hours I dedicated to practices and games started to feel unrewarding when I wasn’t the fastest or strongest on the team. Instead of feeling like an important part of something, I started to feel exactly like the back of my jersey: just another number on the field.
I eventually stepped away from softball in middle school, but I never completely left the game behind. Instead of being on the field, I became the “stat-girl” for my team. When I got to high school, I decided to give playing another shot, but my freshman year was cut short by COVID-19. My sophomore year, I played mostly for fun, but by my junior year, something changed. I found out our team was getting a new coach, and I quickly put two and two together. He was the head coach of my sister’s club softball team, which meant he was probably going to be tough.
After the first practice, my new coach, Sergio, quickly realized I played nothing like my sister. But instead of making me feel like I didn’t belong, he found a place for me. He told me I had a “softball mind,” and from then on, I sat beside him in the dugout during every game, keeping the stat book and helping him however I could.
We went on to win the sectional final that season, and afterward, he pulled me aside and asked, “Do you realize how big a part you played in this win?” At the time, I didn’t. I wasn’t hitting home runs or making diving catches. But now I think back to those freezing games in March when my hands were so cold, I could barely write in the book. I tracked every hit, every play, and anything else that could make my coach’s job a little easier and help our team get to where we were that day.
After years of playing sports and feeling like just a number on the field, I finally understood that being an important part of a team didn’t have to mean being the best player on it. For the first time, I felt like I truly had a place.
But Sergio wasn’t the first coach to shape the way I viewed sports. That started with my dad. He was always finding a way to coach my teams, whether he was the head coach or simply helping out where he could. He would come home from work, immediately change out of his work clothes, and take me to practice, sometimes without even getting the chance to eat dinner.
One of my favorite sports memories wasn’t from a game I played in at all. My brother won his All-Star baseball championship on the same field where my dad grew up playing. Watching him celebrate while my entire family stood together on a field that already held so many memories for my dad felt like everything had come full circle.
There were always those kids who got into their dad’s car after a game knowing they were about to hear everything they did wrong. I was lucky enough to have a dad who did the opposite. He would tell me where I could improve, offer to take me back to the field to work on it, and remind me that no one was perfect. He taught me how to love sports without letting my performance define me. And long before I ever set foot on campus as a student, he also gave me my first connection to the place that could completely change my relationship with sports: the University of Connecticut.
My dad’s influence on my love for sports extended far beyond the teams he coached. He graduated from UConn in 1995, which is the same year the women’s basketball team won its first national championship. UConn was part of my life long before I could even understand what it meant to be “a part of the pack.” I was dressed in UConn gear before I could speak, and every year for my dad’s birthday, my family made the trip to Gampel Pavilion to watch a basketball game. As I got older, those trips became some of the memories I looked forward to most.
When high school came around, and it was finally time to think about where I wanted to go to college, UConn was always at the top of my list. There were plenty of reasons I wanted to be a Husky, but I would be lying if I said the basketball program wasn’t a big part of it.
Once I became a student, UConn basketball became completely different. I started entering the student ticket lottery and going to games with friends, and it quickly became one of my favorite parts of college. Being in the student sections, surrounded by thousands of other students cheering for the same team, made the games I grew up attending feel entirely new.
Eventually, just getting a ticket wasn’t enough. My friends and I started camping outside Gampel Pavilion for the chance to stand in the front row, turning a two-hour basketball game into an entire experience. The hours spent waiting, bundling up in the cold, and finding ways to pass the time together made finally walking into Gampel that much more exciting. Somewhere along the way, sports became fun again. I wasn’t worried about how well I played or whether I was good enough to be there. I was simply surrounded by my friends, cheering for a team I had grown up loving and feeling like I was part of something bigger than myself.
Even as UConn basketball became something I shared with my college friends, I never wanted to stop sharing it with my dad. Whenever the Huskies play at Madison Square Garden or the Prudential Center, we try to be there together. The team that once gave us an excuse to make birthday trips to Gampel has continued to give us something to look forward to, even as I’ve gotten older.
I also happened to become a UConn student at a pretty special time for basketball. During my freshman year, the men’s basketball team won its second straight national championship. After watching the team all season, my friends and I got to celebrate together at the championship parade.
Then, during my sophomore year, it was the women’s team’s turn. When they won the national championship, we got to celebrate right on campus alongside what felt like the entire student body. Those are the moments I know I’ll remember long after I graduate. I came to UConn already loving basketball, but experiencing championships alongside my best friends gave me a completely different reason to love sports.
AT&T even noticed my dedication and love for UConn basketball. My TikTok celebration video earned my best friend Kelty and I an all-expenses-paid trip to Phoenix, Arizona, for the 2026 Women’s National Championship.
By the end of my sophomore year, I had finally figured out that I wanted to pursue a career in communications and journalism. I loved to write, but I also found myself missing the days when I sat in the dugout keeping stats for my softball team. I wanted to find a way to combine storytelling and sports, which are the two things that had become such important parts of my life.
So, I did what any college student trying to figure out their future would do: I started searching. I looked through internship opportunities at UConn and came across a student internship with UConn Athletics. I filled out the application hoping it would give me a chance to get involved with sports again, this time from the other side of the game. I had no idea how much that one application would change my life.
Through my internship, I find myself experiencing sports in ways I never imagined. I’ve had the opportunity to work alongside broadcast crews during men’s and women’s basketball games, input stats for men’s and women’s ice hockey, and even work during March Madness and the women’s Hockey East Championship. I also get to sit in on press conferences and transcribe quotes from players and coaches, combining the sports world I grew up loving with my passion for journalism. Instead of watching everything happen from the stands, I was suddenly getting a behind-the-scenes look at everything it takes to tell the story of a game.
For a long time, I thought loving sports meant I had to be good at playing them. I thought my place was determined by how fast I could run, how hard I could kick, or what number was printed on the back of my jersey. But I’ve realized that sports have given me so much more than anything I could have done on a field.
They’ve given me some of my best friends, memories with my dad, a community at UConn, and, now, a direction for my future. My place in sports has looked different at every stage of my life, from the field to the dugout to the student section, and now behind the scenes. I may not be an athlete anymore, but I finally know that I was never just another number on the field.