It all happened in a second. But that is all it takes. One second. One second, and my life changed forever. And when I say forever, I mean it. 

It actually started two years prior. In a single tournament, I fell and did something to my right knee. And it even traveled to my left knee. Like a bird's migration. The pain would come and go. I went to the doctor a couple of times over that two year gap, but nothing ever happened. Nothing significant. All they told me was that it was because of overuse and to rest for a couple months. But, resting was not something I could do. Yes, soccer season is in the fall but we have tournaments and practice during all the other seasons. And yes, my knees would ache with pain, but I was ok and could still play. So I did. I kept playing because it mattered so much.

 It was September 24th, 2022. The sun was dancing on my face, my sweat glistening. Although it was early on a Saturday morning, I was not mad. I had my cleats on and wore my bright pink colored jersey proudly. I peered down at my shirt and the color leaped onto my face consuming me. I smelled the fresh green grass under my nose. It was long, going past my shins, but Miller Park had always been a poorly kept field. The worse thing was that it was our home field, so no getting away from it. The grass felt cold on my legs, sending goosebumps over my arms. The hair stood up on my neck.  My pony tail swung behind me and hit my back multiple times. I could not help but be all smiles. I mean I was about to go play a soccer game for a team that I knew was actually good and had even more potential. I walked across the field (what my coach called the “pitch”) with my backpack as I held my phone in hand. The cool air surrounded me. I felt the excitement bubble up in me and I just could not wait to play. I finally got to my team and placed down my bag. I found my friend Emma, and we warmed up together.  Stretching made my muscles feel flexible and strong.  I was ready for anything, and at that moment, l was right with the world.

Our coach, Sam, came over and gave us a pep talk. We all cheered and got onto the field. I was not starting, but I would go in soon. We started off strong, with the possession of the ball in our grasp. I am a winger so I play both offense and defense. But for this specific opponent, I was put in as forward, the goal scorer. Coach Sam had just subbed me in and I walked onto the field with confidence, rolling my shoulders back. I started to run as we had the ball, and called out to my teammate, Rian, who was dribbling up the field. She looked up and passed to me.  Swoosh! The sound was crisp, like someone stepping on a leaf and getting that satisfying crunch! I pushed forward while a defender trailed behind me, sprinting in my grassy dust. As the defender started catching up to me, I realized I needed to take my shot.  I turned, planted, and pop! I crumpled to the ground, my leg shaking uncontrollably. And it would not stop. My eyes, however, felt dry. No tears emerged. But, my right knee hurt so badly. I could not walk. It felt limp, like it no longer obeyed my commands. Coach Sam and another teammate, Lucy, ran over and helped me off the field. Oh no, I thought. This could not be good. I limped over to the bench and our team mom came over to give me ice. I placed it on my knee and winced in pain. My mom appeared out of nowhere and knelt down beside me, concern masking an otherwise stoic face.

“Oh honey! What happened?!” she exclaimed.

“I heard my knee pop!” I wimper back at her. Her facial expression turned to a more distressed look and she shook her head slowly. She placed her hand on my shoulder and her warmth helped reassure me in that moment of fear. She told me to continue to rest and keep the ice on my knee. I took a deep breath and just continued to cheer on my teammates.  After the game concluded, I got up slowly and limped over to our team tent to grab my bag and then over to my mom, all the while trying to be as careful as possible. Slowly and painfully, we made our way across the field to the car.  I had never felt so defeated in my life. I opened the car door and hopped inside. I unzipped the pocket that had my phone out and as my mom started the car up, I called my dad. We both explained to him what had happened and as he talked, I could hear the concern in his voice. After we said bye to him, my mom and I talked about the severity of my injury, thinking it was probably a really bad sprain and that I could be out for up to two months. I became very somber after hearing that.  Two months was forever. 

The rest of the car ride was mostly silent, both of us lost in our own thoughts.  To keep my mind off the pain, I took out my phone and scrolled on Tiktok. However, I just didn’t care what I saw.  Nothing made me smile.  We finally made it home and I descended from our minivan very carefully, hobbled over to put my bag down, and then went straight to the fridge freezer to get ice. I plopped down on the couch and placed the ice on my internal wound. The coolness of the ice sent chills up my spine and I felt goosebumps on my arms, the hairs sticking up. I opened my phone to pass the time, but just could not focus. 

When I awoke the next morning, my knee was hurting much more than when I went to bed.  Plus, it was stiff and had swelled to twice its normal size. So we went to the doctor, who initially took x-rays, but, upon reviewing them, immidiately ordered an MRI. So I was being put into a tubed shaped compartment that was very loud and was internally scanning me. Sounds fun. Think sitting under a jet engine without being able to move. Thankfully, they give you music to listen to and earphones to drown out the horribly loud noise, so I just closed my eyes for about 45 minutes before it was over. It was peaceful, in a way, as I gave myself completely to the situation and went to my happy place (playing soccer on a field with my friends). I had also been given a knee brace to wear just until we got the results back, which made me feel a lot better.  After all, how bad could it be if they had me wearing just a knee brace. The surgeon told my mom to schedule a follow-up appointment for five days later, as that would give her enough time to get the results and prepare next steps.  So, on the 29th of September, 2022, my mom and I returned for my appointment, hoping for the best, but prepared to hear that I would be out for two months.  It was a school day, so mom pulled me out early during lunch and we drove to the office as we had done five days earlier.  I sat down on the table and took a deep breath. I felt my palms sweating and my eyes starting welling up already. I could not take it anymore, I wanted to know so badly. This moment would decide my fate. 

“You tore your ACL,” the doctor declared. My face fell. As she started talking to my mom, I silently started to cry and I had a mask on because we still had to wear them, so the tears were absorbed into the fuzzy feel of the mask. I did not know how long I would be out of soccer, but I knew it would be a lot longer than two months. 

“You will be out for at least nine months,” the doctor voiced. I was devastated. My life revolved around kicking a ball into a box shaped net. It was one of the only things that made me happy, and was now being snatched away from me. We finally left and my mom asked if I wanted to go back to school. I nodded robotically, because I never missed school, but I felt numb all over. My mom got me Jamba juice and we headed back to school. Lunch had passed and it was well into the next class. I arrived at my favorite class, Language Arts. I was happy to see my friends, but I was also crushed at the same time. I came into the classroom and went to give my teacher a note. I told him what happened and he said that he was so sorry. I said thank you and sat down. Everything until my surgery was a blurr. So much was happening. I was having surgery on October 20th, 2022. Two days after my 14th birthday. When that week arrived, I kind of forgot it was my birthday because everyone was fussing over the fact that I was getting surgery.  I really didn’t feel up for celebrating it anyway. The day came and I had to wake up early with my mom and we drove to the UCLA medical center. I dressed in a surgical gown and shower cap, and was placed in a warm bed. I felt surprisingly relaxed and just closed my eyes. Then I saw them stick a long needle into my hand to get the anesthia in and it suddenly made me feel terrified. I tried to calm myself down but that was not possible. They started to roll me away from my mom and I tried to reach out a hand to her but the strange people beside me would not let me. I got scared but I forced my eyes shut and felt the tense in my body start to float away. I was put into an all white room, my vision going blurry and then darkness.

I woke up and saw my mom sitting beside me. I felt relieved that it was over, but I felt a little weird. So one of the nurses gave me a little box with apple juice and some animal crackers. I looked down at my leg and there it was, the big bad wolf  (a.k.a. My big and long knee brace). After noticing that big pretty permanent accessory I would have for quite some time, I realized I had to go to the bathroom. My initial thought was: how am I going to get from here to there and not kill myself.  However, I had to wait for someone else, so I had some time to think about the logistics, and think, and think.  It is really strange, but during that initial wake-up time in the hospital, one of my most vivid memories was how bad I had to pee, and how long that person was taking in the bathroom. Finally, the person came out and I shuffled hurriedly over to the bathroom and relieved myself. I came out all proud of myself for making it in time, and was then wheeled in a wheelchair to the car so I could go home. The car ride home was quite a blurr once again, because I was still under anesthia, but I do remember my Dad having to slowly help me up the stairs to my room, where I would “rot” for what seemed like an eternity. I could not go to school for 2 weeks and it pained me deep inside.  Not only did I miss out on my 8th grade trip to Pali (three days of hiking, making arts, and hanging in a cabin with my friends), but I also missed out on trick-or-treating for Halloween (I did get to watch movies with my dad, so it was not all bad). Sleeping was so uncomfortable and I hated the leg brace so much, but I persevered through those two weeks. On November 2, 2022 I started physical therapy or PT. I remember after a session, I would ice my knee but there would be cold silicone circles that would send shocks up my leg and it would feel weird. I worked really hard and just the smallest of accomplishments were super gratifying to me. I remember the day I was first able to lift my leg off the ground after not being able too. I was so happy. Or when I could do a full motion of riding a bike. Some people would look at me and think, that is stupid, why is she happy about lifting her leg? Well, it turns out those little victories kept me motivated and mentally focused on recovery. Unless you had gone through this type of situation before, you would never understand how much effort went into re-teaching your body to do the simpliest things. I worked my butt off at home and at PT to heal my body, while attending soccer practice and watching my team to heal my heart. I would go to my games and watch my team, but it was so hard not to be out there and sometimes I would feel left out when my teammates would talk about the other teams and their experiences while I just had to listen while sitting on the bench. 

By the time summer came around, I was getting stronger and stronger. We had summer conditioning for high school soccer but I could participate much. Sitting on the sidelines while everyone scrimmaged and had fun, learning each other’s names was not fun. I felt as if I was there but I was not a part of anything. Trying as much as I could, I never felt like it was enough. Yes, I was restricted, but I wanted to screw that and just play. The agonizing pain I felt of not showing my full potential was quite frustratin. I felt fine internally, but that does not mean I was fine physically. On the 6th of July, I took my biometrics test for 9 months and I passed!! However, for highschool tryouts, I was still only able to do drills and no contact. I thought that it would be a little harder to be on the team, if I could not show that I deserve it. Every tryout I was nervous, but there was only so much that I could do. The first cut came, and I made it. I was relieved. However, I was not out of the woods yet. 

I continued to do as much as I could and then the second cut rolled around and I was apprehensive, but I smiled and knew that it would be ok. 

“They updated the roster!” someone shouted. I sucked in a big gulp of air and refreshed my page. I scrolled down, the suspension was killing me! I saw people's names, some I liked and others not so much. Then I finally got to where my name would be and I saw it! Sasha Cook! I cheered and I got really excited. It was like a breath of fresh air. I had accomplished my goal of coming back from an ACL knee injury and made my high school team.  I was finally able to relax for a bit, and was excited for the upcoming season. I would not know till later, but at that moment, some of the girls on the team would become some of my closest friends. And I continue to be so grateful for them. One of them is in 10th grade and she is like the older sister I have always wanted (I got a younger brother instead - oh well). My club coach even decided to give me a second chance despite the fact I could not play most of the season the first year I was on his team. He saw the potential in me and believed in me and that has helped me so much through my soccer career. He is the one coach that actually cares and knows I can be a good player. No previous club coach would ever have done that for me. And I thrived during club season. We won every game except one, which we tied. And I was helping and contributing to the team and it felt good. When I was hurt, I could not do anything to help and I felt sad because of that. But now that I was back, I was able to hangout with my friends and have fun, but also be a serious participant in the team’s success. I even scored two goals and three assists! And the high school season was awesome as well. Our first game I got an assist and played really well. I was finally back on my game. I went to practices and games and played and spent time with people I loved. I was surrounded by teammates who understood what I went through and supported me no matter what. I got to know the coaches better as well, even to the point of having inside jokes with them that made me laugh uncontrollably. I remember when one of my coaches did not even know my name.  But now, one of my teammates and I are identified as the two grumpy old men in the balcony from the Muppet Show. It has been an awesome experience to play on this team. That is, until I hurt my other knee with the same diagnosis.  Another ACL tear. I had finally been playing well and I was happy with my status. And now I was devastated for a second time. I would often think, “why, why me?” because all I wanted to do was play soccer and now I could not do that, again. I am now about to have my second major knee surgery in the past 15 months, followed by another nine months of pain and rehab.  But, you know what? I look at this nasty bump in the road and, while it absolutely sucks to go through it again, I know that if I did it once, then I most certainly can and will do it again, and come back twice as strong. Because, it does not matter how many times you fall down, it matters how many times you get back up. And if you want it, you will do anything to get back up again and again and again.