By Vanessa Garcia
She didn't know how to quit.
Even after three years of trainers jabbing nearly a dozen cortisone injections into the burning tendons of her knees, giving up volleyball was never an option for collegiate athlete Megan Abbott. She would rather wrap her knees in rolls of tape and push through the pain before acknowledging the threat of her injuries.
Abbott's life had revolved around volleyball since her first match in the eighth grade. And as the daughter of a retired pro football player, passion for competition has pumped through her veins since swinging at a t-ball in kindergarten. She didn't know how to lose, and she certainly didn't know how to quit.
But eventually her body adapted to the “miracle” cortisone shots. The pain in her knees was real, undeniable, debilitating.
“During practice one day, I remember trying to stand up from a squat,” Abbott said. “I couldn't do it without using my arm. I was a Division I athlete and I couldn't stand.”
After an MRI, Abbott and her Villanova University volleyball coach met with a doctor to evaluate the results. Both patellar tendons, just below the front of her knees, were severely damaged. If she didn't have surgery, the tissue would continue to die until both tendons ruptured. If she tried to stand, her knees could buckle into her shins.
“The doctor said he couldn't guarantee that I'd play again,” she said. “But, I didn't hear that. I thought, of course I'd play again.”
Despite her doctor's recommendations, Abbott chose to have both knees operated on simultaneously so she could recover in time to play her third season at Villanova.
“I was in my hospital gown, about to have my first surgery. I didn't think it was a big deal. Then the doctor asks, where do you want your 2-inch scar?” she said. “It wasn't a surgery to play. It was a surgery to walk.”
After months confined to bed with both legs in braces, she began intense rehab. Less than eight months after her surgery, much sooner than doctors wanted, she started the lifting, running and jumping of pre-season training. But on court, she wasn't the same full-ride freshman starter or key sophomore player on Villanova's Big East Conference champion team.
“I was playing with half a tendon but still expected to perform,” she said. “I started to see my teammates pass me.”
Abbott refused to stop playing. She relied on doses of Vioxx and yards of tape to pull through each match, but she never earned her same skills back and the pain continued. Her frustration and anger pushed her into a depression. She felt embarrassed and cheated.
After a second MRI and evaluation just before her senior season, her doctor refused to let her return to the court.
“A whole lifetime of training, culminating in my senior season, everybody's looking to you to perform, but there's no grand finale,” she said. “It was over for me.”
After four years of nine-hour training days, weekends spent traveling the country for games and a lifetime of dedication before, her volleyball career was over. In one breath, the life she knew and future she planned was swerved off track. She stayed involved with the team by promoting events, announcing games and helping run practices. But life on the sidelines was uncomfortable and frustrating for Abbott.
“I was the superstar, and now I couldn't play,” she said. “I felt lost.”
Every year, countless dedicated athletes suffer the same sense of loss and identity confusion. Whether it's a career-ending injury, like Abbott's, or simply graduation that takes an athlete away from a sport, the transition is often overwhelming, said Al Petitpas, professor of psychology and director of the graduate training program in athletic counseling at Springfield College.
“Everyone has to make an adjustment,” Petitpas said.
People who begin competing at a young age, especially those who are praised early on for their athletic abilities, sometimes neglect important steps in identity development, Petitpas explained. Typical adolescents use exploratory options like meeting different people, trying new hobbies or learning different perspectives to get a sense of who they are. Athletes, however, tend to get a more narrow sense of identity that revolves around their athletic accomplishments.
“As an athlete, confidence, self-esteem, self-worth is caught up in your sport,” Petitpas said. “The stronger and more exclusive their identity is to being an athlete, the more vulnerable they are.”
Robert Sidbury, private trainer and strength coach at Reebok Sport's Club in New York City, said there is a period of remorse and depression at some level for most athletes. As a former collegiate football player, Sidbury is familiar with how jarring the shift can be.
“In high school you're the star of the school. Everyone knows you and wants to be around you. You go to college on scholarship and the same thing continues but on a bigger and grander stage, so the stakes keep getting higher,” Sidbury said. “And then it's gone and all that attention leaves and then what happens?”
It's easy to base one's sense of self-worth on how well he or she does on the playing field because athletic success brings such intense praise and adoration. When it ends, it's important to find other sources of satisfaction.
“You have to set goals and transfer those goals into the normal world just like you did when you were an athlete,” Sidbury said. “You have to find other outlets and look at the big picture in life.”
Petitpas said the ideal way to prevent depression is to develop a solid support system while still actively involved in the sport.
“Give 100 percent to your sport but reserve some time for yourself. It hurts to lose, but if you're well-rounded, you can cope with it easier and quicker,” Petitpas said.
The best way to deal with any loss is to realize all the good that came from it.
“Don't disown the whole sport experience,” Petitpas said.
Instead of projecting anger or bitterness toward “the system,” blaming a doctor or getting angry at a coach, athletes should focus on evaluating the real source of their disappointment.
“Depression is an avoidance behavior. People are still angry with themselves,” he said.
It's important to stay involved in the sport in some capacity, Sidbury said. He suggests working as a coach or trainer.
Abbott, now 23, works as a public relations specialist in Los Angeles. She still plays regularly on an adult team, and no longer suffers from chronic knee pain.
“If I could do this all over again, I would,” she said, without hesitation. “I'm proud to say I played.”
She said her dedication to volleyball gave her the mentality of an athlete—of an unwavering competitor—and she's confident that this mindset is responsible for most her success in life.
“Sports set me up for success,” she said, despite the tribulations of her career. “It will always be a part of my life.”