Career-ending injury.

"You can never take the netball court again." 

This is what my orthopaedic surgeon said to me after reconstructing my knee, which he described as "50 out of 10 in damage."  

His words hit me like a freight train.  

My entire being had always been defined by being good at sport. I was a state representative in netball and athletics. I had played Netball at elite level, I had run half marathons…..I lived and breathed competition. Netball, in particular, was my refuge— it was the thing I turned to when life felt overwhelming. A stressful day, a personal setback, or just the weight of the world— indeed it was the first place I went to when I flew back from the Iraq War.  Being at netball, and more importantly playing netball made it all better. It made me feel invincible. 

And then, overnight, it was gone. 

I had ruptured my ACL, MCL and meniscus.  My knee was so unstable I couldn’t walk.  For the better part of 22 weeks I was in a brace 24/7… couldn’t even take it off to sleep.  I had to re-learn how to walk without a limp. I spent hours in physio and then exercise physiology celebrating the small goals as I achieved them.  I slowly built my physical self back up.  

However, the physical journey was nothing compared to the psychological battle that was starting to unfold.  And this was the part of my rehabilitation that was the hardest – for me and for everyone close to me.  My usual way of coping—throwing myself into training, being able to take the court, and the identity I found in playing netball had been stripped away. I hadn’t realized how much I depended on netball to manage my stress and feel whole until I lost it. 

I grieved like I had lost a part of me. And, in many ways, I had. 

A Deep Sense of Loss 

It wasn’t just about not playing the netball anymore. It was also my sense of belonging that disappeared. My closest friends were all netballers. We had built our friendships at the sport we all loved.  And I was no longer a netball player. I was no longer part of my clubs playing group.  In the year that I destroyed my knee, I had played an integral part of securing my clubs first Div 1 grand final in 27 years.   But I was no longer a part of that.  When I stood alongside my team after their grand final win, it didn’t feel like my victory. I wasn’t on the court. I wasn’t part of that moment. 

Suddenly, the community I’d always connected with felt distant. I felt stupid for grieving the loss of a sport and I couldn’t articulate it to anyone without that feeling, so I grieved silently and heavily.  Side note – I am forever grateful for the way in which my husband and girls helped me through this time.  I was not an easy person to be around and they rode every emotion with me.   

Rediscovering Myself 

The years of strength training with my exercise physiologist helped rebuild my body. The competitive nature in me leant in to the goal setting component of this and I couldn’t have been happier with my progress.  But the spectre of no longer being a netballer and trying to find a new thing that could bring me joy was the bigger challenge.  For the first 12 months I refused to go to a netball court. I couldn’t even bear to watch a game on TV.   

And then my youngest daughter asked me one day if she could start to play netball.  Slowly, tentatively, and through  my daughters discovery of the game I loved,  I found myself dipping my toes back into the sport—this time as just a coach.  I had coached for many years previously but I had always considered myself a player first and foremost.  Turns out reconnecting with the sport at beginner level was exactly the medicine I needed to rebuild myself psychologically.  I found joy in watching eight-year-olds who couldn’t pass, catch or control their feet at the start of the season, start to look like mini netballers at the end.  Slowly, but surely, I found a new kind of love for netball. Coaching gave me a way to stay connected to the game, to share my knowledge, and to find joy in helping others achieve their goals. 

A New Perspective 

Netball coaching is more than just a way to stay involved in the sport.  Watching my athletes achieve their personal milestones—whether it was mastering a new skill, making a team they’d dreamed of, or helping them to rediscovering their own love for the game—has brought a sense of fulfillment I’d never expected. 

My own injury experience has given me a unique perspective as a coach.  I could help my players understand the importance of listening to their bodies, prioritizing strength work, and balancing their love for the game with the need for longevity.  It also helps me to guide players that there are many ways to stay connected and find your netball community. 

Finding Joy in New Ways 

Funnily enough, I even found joy in playing again—but in a very different way. Walking netball, of all things, opened a new door for me. Joining a social walking netball competition, surrounded by players ranging from teenagers to women in their 60s, was unexpectedly rewarding this year. Some of the players in that walking netball league had played at elite levels and were either too old or too injured to play the traditional way again; others played the sport as a young girl and were rediscovering the joy of playing in a low impact setting, and others were just looking for a way to stay active. What united us all in the most hilarious way (seriously I have never laughed so hard than recently in a game of walking netball) was the sheer joy of being on the court together.   

Taking One Last Risk 

Last week, seven and a half years since my knee reconstruction, I was given the chance to take the court again in a social setting as a fill in player. Despite warnings from my husband and my business partner, I couldn’t resist. For 40 glorious minutes, I felt the rush of playing again. I won’t lie - it was exhilarating and you could not wipe the grin from my face.  

Unfortunately, my surgeon’s words were accurate and I should never have taken the court again. I’m now awaiting MRI results to confirm the damage I’ve done to my still-fragile knee. But this time, I’m smiling. I know I haven’t lost anything. I’m sad that my brief step out of retirement has reinforced the limits of my body, but I don’t regret it. For those 40 minutes, I relived the joy of the game and it felt amazing.  

Most importantly, I realized that my netball cup is full in ways I never could have imagined. I’ve found a deeper love for the game through coaching and community. I have found friends in players, other coaches and parents, and I’ve discovered that there is way more to my identity than “I was once a good netball player”.