At this point, 2 years of playing field hockey had gone by, and I was halfway through sixth grade. One day after school, my family sat down in the living room, and my parents had some hard news to tell us: we were moving. Not only were we moving, but we were moving to a place that had no field hockey.
I was devastated. But my dad made me a promise: “You will continue to play field hockey. No matter what.” And of course, my amazing parents kept that promise, ensuring I kept playing.
Living in Alabama and telling people I play field hockey, you could imagine the looks of confusion I got on a daily basis. But I just kept trucking along. Middle school is a tough time, as many could imagine. While field hockey was still in my life, it wasn’t as prominent at first because there was no local team. I began playing volleyball with some of my friends and had a great time. Throughout my middle school career, I played for many club teams: Nashville Field Hockey, Atlanta Field Hockey Club, and Bluegrass Field Hockey. Each of these teams, coaches, and players became a significant part of my journey.
Then one day, I received an email from none other than my coaches at Saints Field Hockey – they wanted me to play with them again. Countless plane rides, hotel stays, family road trips, and stinky goalie gear eventually led me to high school.
Freshman year, I was still fully into field hockey and beginning the journey of college recruitment. My 13-to-14- year-old self was shooting for the moon. She had massive dreams of playing at the highest level of collegiate field hockey and wanted to work hard every single day to get there. From practicing in the backyard with my dad to using turf while my brother had lacrosse practice, I put my pads on and touched a ball every chance I got. I continued traveling to tournaments and recruiting events to get my name out there.
Sophomore year rolled around and things are looking rough. I wasn’t making as much progress as I wanted and felt like I had started too late. I was told by many people “Maybe you should scale back and only focus on a few schools” or “Maybe Division 1 field hockey isn’t for you”. I began to consider those opinions, but then I remembered eight-year-old Niko. She wouldn’t want that. She would want me to keep pushing and putting myself out there because she knew everything would work out.
Junior year, while challenging, was my best year yet. I began training at a facility called Body Creation Incorporation and immediately saw a difference in my athletic abilities. My coaches there are very detail-oriented and work with so many different athletes. They were kind enough to let me use their indoor turf so my parents and I could practice.
My goal had always been to commit by my junior year. Come Christmas time, the one thing on my list couldn’t be left under the tree. In January, my team traveled to Orlando to play in the Sunshine Showcase. As usual, I sent out emails with my schedule, name, and jersey number to college coaches. A few responded and made plans to watch me play. Needless to say, I’m glad they did, because I played one of the best tournaments in my career.
A few months later, in April, I left my junior prom early to prepare for an official visit the next day. After an amazing visit with the best team, incredible coaches, and a beautiful campus, I had my first Division 1 offer: Queen’s University of Charlotte – one of my dream schools since I was eight years old. About 20 minutes later, I called my coach back and committed.
Everything I had been working towards for ten years finally clicked. The many miles and hotel nights paid off (Mom and Dad: sorry, but you’re welcome!). Seventeen-year-old me was crying happy tears, and eight-year-old me was jumping up and down.
All the hard times and the moments where I could have given up – but didn’t – made sense in the end. I didn’t let moving to a state without field hockey hold me back, nor did I listen to the people who told me to give up on collegiate field hockey.
Sometimes life gets hard, and nothing makes sense. It’s going to feel like everything is falling apart and that you should listen to the negativity. But don’t do it. I promise it will all add up in the end and become something bigger than you could have ever imagined.
While it was a bumpy road, I am so glad that I have landed here and will continue to stay: In the Cage.
