My sweaty palm grips the racquet, the noise around me blurring. I can hear my heartbeat ringing in my ears. I step onto the court and focus on hitting my targets in the warm-up, listening to the sound of the ball making contact with the front wall. Bam. Bam. Bam. I notice the details of each shot. Where is my racquet making contact with the ball? How is the height and the pace? How can I adjust? The referee calls time, and warm-up ends. The racquet spins, dropping to the ground and landing on the down symbol. I have the first serve. I step into the service box, bouncing the ball three times, each time reminding myself that I am ready. I know where to place the ball and what to do. I toss the ball and my racquet makes contact. The match begins.
Ever since I can remember, sports have been a huge part of my life. From gymnastics to karate, to running, basketball, and squash, I was always the kid in school joining every sports team. My dad introduced me to squash—he picked it up in his 20s recreationally, and by the age of seven, I picked up my first racquet. My brother then got involved in squash at our local squash club, and soon after, I followed in his footsteps. I played my first tournament at 10 years old—although I lost almost every single match, I was mesmerised by the sport. I remember watching the older players compete for provincial and national championships, particularly the under-19 girls division. I kept thinking,“I want to be this good someday.”
From my first tournament, I was hooked. I started playing a couple of times a week in my local squash program and playing more tournaments, determined to improve my game. I moved up to playing provincially, then nationally, and now at McGill. Along the way, squash became a core part of my identity. When I was asked to introduce myself or say a fun fact or favourite hobby, the first thing that came to mind was squash. Squash also became a sort of family tradition. My parents, brother, and I would go to our local squash club every Christmas and New Year’s Day. If you walked into our dingy hole-in-the-wall club on an empty Christmas day you’d be sure to find us fiercely battling it out on court. These were also usually the only times my brother and I would let my dad win (he would say otherwise).
Throughout my middle and high school years, I played and competed at a high level, representing B.C. and Canada at competitions. My fondest memory was travelling to Amsterdam to represent Canada in the Dutch Junior Open, playing against top-level junior players from around the world. It felt amazing to be surrounded by other athletes playing the best they could. I was inspired and full of motivation. Along the way, I’ve watched my peers drop like flies at each level. I’ve wondered: What has kept me playing?
Like many athletes, I’ve hit roadblocks and points of burnout in my sport. COVID-19, which halted group practices and competitions, was detrimental to every student-athlete.
Ava Bicknell, U2 Arts and Co-Captain of the McGill Women’s Squash Team, told The Tribune, “I couldn’t train during COVID. I didn’t play for two years so I lost interest in the sport. I found it hard to be motivated because I couldn’t play.” For many athletes like Ava, this was a harsh reality. The pandemic deeply affected athletes’ motivation and interest to keep going, making many lose their momentum. The pandemic was also difficult for young woman athletes in particular. Even before the pandemic, one in three girls in Canada quit their sport during their late teenage years. The loss of community exacerbated the high dropout rate of woman athletes.
COVID was also a time of reflection for many athletes. For me, the pandemic was the first time I was forced to step back from my sport. It made me realize how much I love to play, but also how stressful and anxiety-inducing tournaments could be. My teammates seemed to be reevaluating their interest in squash too—many quit after the lockdown. I had to ask myself the hard questions: Do I want to keep playing? Do I miss playing or is this feeling a longing for an old habit? In this time of reflection, I realized how much I had grown to love squash and training towards a new goal, tournament, or ranking. I did not want to stop. I worked with my coach online to do as much off-court training as possible, improving my game’s physical aspects, speed, strength, and endurance. Once lockdown ended, I realized that I had been longing to get back on court.
However, just two months after I started training again, I faced my biggest roadblock—the nightmare every athlete dreads: Injury. I sprained my ankle in practice and couldn’t play at my maximum capacity for six months. The two weeks of not being on court felt gruelling. Every day, I would go to the squash club and spend my time biking while I watched my teammates practice. I was devastated. I felt like all my progress had been lost from one stupid mistake. I went from feeling like I was playing my best in a practice match, to being unable to walk off the court. My time away from squash reinforced the love I had for my sport, motivating me to push myself to work smarter and play harder.
Getting back to training and competitions months after my injury was challenging. I was behind where I needed to be. I was also gearing up for my recruiting year, where I would begin talking to coaches in the U.S. about playing Division One squash. I was extremely frustrated with my performance and my recovery time from my injury. My love for squash began to fade.
Recruiting wasn’t going well either. With the long-term effects of the pandemic, it was harder to get into international tournaments and to compete against American players who already had exposure to college coaches. I kept telling myself it would work out, and I would achieve my goal of playing Division One squash, but in the end, it didn’t. I was devastated. This is what everyone I was competing against wanted; why couldn’t I have it too?
My frustration carried on into my last year of high school. As I began to near the end of my junior squash career, I started feeling burnt out. I didn’t enjoy competing anymore. What was the point? I felt disincentivized to play because it felt like there was no future for me in the sport. On top of this struggle, many of my teammates had quit, altering the social dynamic, and making training less enjoyable. After my last provincial championships, I took my first voluntary break from squash. I stopped training five to six days a week, let myself rest, and distanced myself from the sport.
I came to McGill last fall, knowing I would join the Women’s Squash Team. My brother was already on the Men’s team, and I hoped it would be a positive social experience, but I assumed it wouldn’t be such a big part of my life anymore.
I was wrong. As soon as I stepped back on the court, my heart pounded out of my chest, my palms turned sweaty, and butterflies swirled in my stomach. In that moment, I remembered why I love to play.
But, while many athletes come into university with this same mindset, their ability to follow through and continue playing is dependent on many factors. What makes or breaks someone’s experience with sports, especially in university?
For many athletes, including myself, the likeability of the sport is tied to the team’s dynamic. Lilly Breton, U3 Arts and a former player on the McGill Women’s Field Hockey Team, told The Tribune that after her first year, she “just felt like it was a different dynamic with the girls, and I didn’t really like to feel in competition with my teammates, like we’re a team, but it was […] a super stressful and anxiety-inducing environment.” Players like Breton often decide to leave their teams, rather than continuing in unpleasant conditions.
On the flip side, the strong community in the squash team brought me back to the sport. My love for squash stemmed from my teammates. I loved being in my first all-girls team, having strong woman athletes around me, all training for a mutual goal. I got lucky enough to join a team where I met some of my best friends.
McGill Tennis Coach Lutwin de Macar told The Tribune that athletes’ relationships with their sport are “about the people, about the energy, about the atmosphere; whether you’re varsity, whether you’re not, […] you could still make a great experience out of it.” As de Macar reflects, at any level of sport, the community and the energy athletes are surrounded by can make or break their motivation to play.
Also, the flexibility with my training and keeping a good balance between school, sports, and socializing has been crucial. With just team practices, I could play as little as three times a week, allowing me to focus on my school and social life. But the entire team drives one another to improve, and nearly every day, I’m either training on the court with my teammates or hitting the gym alongside them. With the squash team, I’ve been able to balance my training and my game around my priorities. Now I not only play for McGill but also for Team Quebec. Seeing how all these small adjustments improve my game pushes me to keep going. I love reflecting upon how much I have improved by staying consistent, and how much the hard work has paid off.
Finally, falling back in love with my sport has been tied to having a competitive challenge. While McGill’s squash team isn’t varsity, we compete at a varsity level against other Canadian teams in the Ontario Jesters University Squash League. The McGill women’s team won the Ontario University Association (OUA) League for the first time in McGill history, beating the crowd-favourite Queen’s University. Now, every time I walk past the courts, I smile when I see our first-place banner hanging. We may not be receiving the recognition or funding we aspire to have from McGill Athletics to become a Varsity team, but we are competing at a high level.
Institutions play such an important role in how athletes view their relationships with their sport, especially in university. For young woman athletes, this can be the ways in which our school represents and supports us—in funding or spirit.
Breton discusses how with field hockey, “There’s no extra support, especially when it comes to funding […] It all comes out of pocket. It’s super expensive compared to the men’s high-level sports, [because] they have funding. They have […] five physios [in] a team, they have all these different resources. So at least for field hockey, I think that’s why a lot of girls dropped out […] there was just no point.”
Breton emphasized that McGill Athletics and their lack of support for women’s sports teams can affect how woman athletes view themselves and their relationships with the sport, especially when men’s teams take precedence. Support from institutions can be a huge incentive or a massive hardship, which can be a deciding factor for young women already struggling to stay in the game.
For all athletes, love for your sport comes and goes, and sometimes the sacrifices we make feel bigger than our return on investment. But finding a sport where you love to compete and can’t imagine your life without it makes everything worthwhile. Being surrounded by teammates who are just as excited to win that big match or help you pick yourself up after a tough loss is what makes it worth it. So to you, squash might just be hitting a ball against a wall, or that court you walk by on the way to the B2 Gym. But for me, squash is my challenge. It pushes me to be mentally and physically tough, a sport that has brought my family closer and has allowed me to form some of my closest and most meaningful friendships. This is what has shaped my relationship with my sport.
