My happiness is… How my varsity squash career went so wrong, but so right
Michaela here, your resident university squash player. No, squash is not the same as racquetball. No, you don’t get hit by the ball that often. But yes, it bloody hurts when you do.
I’ve grown up in what you would call the epitome of #SquashFam. My dad was (and is) pretty freaking good at squash – 2x individual and 3x team OUA champion, former #1 player in Trinidad. My sister is the current #1 player on the Western University team. Our parents actually met playing squash in the great city of London, Ontario, where I have been living for the last 6 years.
It should be no surprise that I started playing squash when an adult racquet was probably taller than me. I played recreationally throughout my childhood, but it was mostly just a place to hang out with friends. Instead, I was enjoying a rather illustrious gymnastics career, while also dabbling in a gazillion other sports. However by my mid-teens, it became evident that my time gymnastics was coming to an end (story for another day). Being the ‘all or nothing’ type of person I am, I knew I needed to find another sport that I could throw myself into. With an international coach at my fingertips (shoutout to Coach Khan aka Dad), squash seemed like a decent place to start.
One little problem. As it turned out, I really, really, really hated squash. Emphasis on the really.
I cannot tell you how many times I threatened to quit. I would cry in the change rooms after (sometimes during) practice, thinking how anyone could enjoy this absolutely brutal sport. Chasing around a tiny, uncontrollable ball while trapped in a 4 walled room... That was supposed to be… fun?!
LOL. Apparently.
Fast forward a few years. As much as I despised squash, I was fueled more by competitiveness than hatred. The more tournaments I entered and got my ass handed to me in, the more I desired to master the crazy game. Finally, I made the decision to try out for the squash team at the same university my Dad had played at the #1 position for.
I miraculously made it through try-outs and onto the playing team, but my first year on the team was incredibly trying. I still hadn’t fully figured out if I actually liked the sport, but I had decided I didn’t fit in on the team. New teammates, new coaches, new school. I struggled so much socially that just showing up to practice seemed like a chore. Squash may be an individual sport, but I had never felt so isolated.
Thankfully, the ball seemed to become more controllable as I moved through university. I made the jump from the #4 player in my 1st year to the #2 player in my 3rd year, and looked set to hold down the #1 spot in my 4th year. I had made life-long friends on the team, endured punishing tournaments that pushed me to my limits, and was maintaining a solid GPA. My love for the sport was blossoming. Squash dominated my thoughts, even when I wasn’t on court.
Life may have seemed good on the outside, but inside, a storm was brewing. One year after another, I would end the season with one of my feet in a cast. The third time I slipped on my trusty old Aircast boot, my doctor wouldn’t clear me to play. Weeks went by, then months. Finally, my injuries stretched through the seasons. Plural. It took so much of my physical and mental energy to crawl my way back to the court after so much time not being able to crawl out of bed because of the pain and heartache.
I got there in my 6th year at Western. I rejoined the starting line-up in September 2018 - not fully functional, but at least on court.
I was out again by December 2018. Surgery scheduled for April 2019.
‘Devastated’ doesn’t come close to describing it.
During my recovery, I came across an article by Alex Cyr, a St FX and U Windsor track athlete (http://uwindsorlance.com/a-friendly-word-of-advice-to-fellow-student-athletes/). He talked about athletes whose lives are consumed by their sport (check), and what happens when, by cruel twists of fate, you can no longer play it anymore. He suggested that if and when that happens, to find new ways to contribute to your sport.
Looking back at my university squash career, I saw immense failure. It was painful to admit that I would never be a true #1 on the team or leave any sort of legacy. I felt like a fraud - walking around in my varsity jacket knowing how long it had been since I had played a tournament. However, after reading that article I realised that I may have still found the ‘ways’ that Alex talked about.
I had been a 1x vice-captain and 2x captain, roles I took very seriously and still consider to be the biggest honour Western ever gave me. I had the opportunity to tour prospective high schoolers around campus. I logged hours upon hours of court time, coaching the team through drills. I cheered for my teammates in matches and travelled with them all over the province. I had the privilege of introducing players in tournaments and giving the pre-game pep talk. In the minute and a half between games, I offered teammates the best advice I had to give. Hands were held and shoulders were cried on during the hard times. Milestones – everything from first kisses to overcoming mental illnesses – were celebrated. We danced the night away at tournaments and laughed until we hit the floor. My heart would swell with pride when teammates sent me good midterm marks that had boosted their grades. My own grades had stayed consistent too – earning an OUA All-Academic Canadian certificate (and a darn good free lunch) each year and a fully funded master’s degree. I had also found my voice – less afraid to speak up when things didn’t feel right. As a 6th year veteran, I felt it was my duty to make sure that no teammate should feel like I had in my own 1st year.
In those aspects of varsity sport life, I had not failed.
My time on the Western University squash team will not be remembered in writing like my Dad’s achievements. My kids will not walk past squash trophies with my name on in Thames Hall or a picture of me in Western’s Student Recreation Centre. I was not an MVP, Purple Blanket winner, or an OUA All-Star.
Did I want all those things? Hell yeah.
But things don’t always work out the way you want them to, and now I can see my gains instead of losses.
Through all my successes and failures, I will always be proud to have worn the Mustang on my chest for 6 years - as a teammate, captain, coach and, most importantly, a friend.
So for the last time - Stangs on 3. 1, 2, 3… STANGS!
Be kind to yourself,
Michaela (aka girl who asked for a burrito immediately after her surgery but was denied this right because she threw up after chugging ginger ale)
☼ / ☾
Picture time!!!!
Yep, pretty sure the racquet’s taller than me
First OUAs at home in London - it may look like I was on top of the world here (ha ha) but I was really struggling
Dad’s picture at the Western Student Recreation Centre - I walk past this picture of my Dad each time I go to the courts on campus. It’s a good reminder that he is quite literally always looking over and out for me
Dad and Western University’s legendary coach Jack Fairs at the Western Mustang Sports Hall of Fame Banquet, Oct 2018. Dad’s holding a picture his 2nd individual OUA championship trophy in 1990. As a coach and mentor (read “second father”), Jack changed my Dad’s life in many ways. I am always thankful to have spent many weekend afternoons with Jack and Peg, hearing stories about the glory days and indulging in Peg’s unparalleled baked goods
At Western, you receive a Bronze W award if you play on the first team for a minimum of 3 years. I was given mine exactly 25 years after my Dad earned his
I didn’t know it at the time, but this would be my last appearance as a Mustang on court, so it’s fitting it was in London. Ankle braces in tow, but I was ecstatic to be on court again! #ThatHeadbandTho
Last Athletic Banquet - always a fun time with old and newer friends. Miss you all (and that buffet!!!!) already
I found a family on the squash team, but was also unbelievably lucky that my squash family included a member of my real life family. My sister Madison is my inspiration and I will always look up to her. Literally and figuratively – she may be younger but she happens to be much taller. Still trying to convince her to move to Vancouver with me, any help will be greatly appreciated!!! I told her she could keep kicking my butt out there but apparently that’s not enough (she’s been able to beat me for years, probably getting bored of it)