Warning: Story contains graphic/explicit language
There is no progression to the pain. One second, playing field hockey, next second, the pain is there. It doesn’t beat around the bush. It doesn’t play mind games. It doesn’t allow one to think, “Oh, I might be ok.” It’s very blunt. “Oh fuck.”
That’s what was in Ali Rushton’s mind as she lay on the ground, clutching her knee with both
hands.
Rushton had just begun starting the fall semester of her sophomore year. Having been recruited heavily by Head Coach Karen Shelton after playing on the prestigious club team, the WC Eagles, in high school, Rushton was ready to really get her career underway.
Now, in a matter of seconds, that had ground to a halt.
Head trainer Scott Oliaro was by her side. The team had been doing 3 v 3 drills in practice. Ali was trying to keep her spirits up. She thought maybe she had only been hit in the knee by a ball.
But deep down she knew.
She walked off the field and into the training room at Henry Stadium. Oliaro had Ali walk in a
straight line and then turn and come back. On the turn, Ali buckled.
Oliaro prodded her knee. He had his diagnosis but wouldn’t tell Ali. Not until she had taken an MRI and the results came back. That is what all trainers are told to do.
The MRI results came back. A full tear of the ACL in Ali's left knee.
Ali called her father, her eyes unable to stop the tears from cascading, her lips unable to utter the words she had to say. It took 10 minutes before she said, “Dad, I tore my ACL.”
All she heard from him were words of encouragement, that she was going to get through this, come out stronger. But his mind was thinking very different thoughts.
“When I heard Ali on the phone, it felt almost like a death in the family, knowing that my
daughter had torn her ACL.”
Scott contacted the best knee specialists he knew. Luckily, living in Philadelphia and being a
doctor himself, it didn’t take long to get some colleagues who worked for the Philadelphia
Eagles to give him advice.
Ali went home to Philly. September 15th is always going to have a slightly different meaning
now. There is always a bit of fright going into surgery. When it is an ACL surgery, there is even more pressure applied. Ali went into the operating room. Successful.
She managed to get back to Chapel Hill for her 8 o’clock class on Monday morning.
A typical ACL tear takes about 9 months to fully heal. It isn’t 9 months of waiting. It isn’t 9
months of bending a knee back and forth until it feels good again. It is 9 exhausting months of rehab, conditioning, cooldown, repeat.
Not a day went by in which Ali didn’t cry.
Her best friend and roommate, Catherine Hayden had to help wash her, help her go to the
bathroom, because Ali couldn’t by herself, she was nearly immobile.
Calls with her dad were a constant. Leaning on her trainer Scott Oliaro for support both literally and figuratively was a must. Conversations with Hayden and all the other girls on the team were often needed.
But as much as she loves them, watching them get to play and improve, hurt Ali. They were
playing under her minutes.
She had to get back. If she worked her butt off, she might come back even better than she was
before. And then patellar tendinitis.
A complication she couldn’t really afford, nor wanted to deal with. But that didn’t make it go
away. So, she worked.
Blood, sweat and tears is a cliché. It was Ali’s reality.
She spent all Spring working, all Summer working. She didn’t travel with the team to a single
game and sometimes shut herself off from the rest of the world, determined to get back on the field. She even sometimes shut out Hayden, her best friend.
Hayden knew when they occasionally butt heads, it wasn’t because Ali was mad at her, it was because Ali was mad at her situation.
Eventually work began to pay off. First out of the wheelchair, then off of crutches, a step or two which translates into running a few. And it took time. It took a lot of time. But eventually Ali was ready to start playing again.
It takes most athletes a while to get back into game shape. Every sport is different. Ali felt like it only took her 3 days to get back into Field Hockey shape before the start of her junior year.
But she didn’t play much. Ali felt like her tendinitis was hindering her play and she had just
sacrificed too much time while being out.
That is until she started playing big minutes in the Spring. She began starting at defense again.
Not only that, she was one of the fittest players on the team. Conditioning worthy enough to
earn praise from Coach Shelton.
Her hard work had paid off in a big way.
Coming up was one of the bigger games on the Spring schedule. A chance to play against the U21 National development field hockey team. Ali was looking forward to the game because along with it being a challenge for her and the rest of the team, a close friend of hers played on.
the U21 team.
In the first half, her friend tore her ACL. It struck a chord with Ali. Having a very fresh
perspective on just what that can mean for an athlete, Ali was immediately kneeling by her side.
Ali cried with her.
But there was still a game to play, and entering the 3rd quarter Ali wanted to block out the
distraction of her friend getting hurt.
Nearing the end of the third quarter, Ali was in the defensive circle defending her goal when a girl ran into her knee.
As Ali fell to the ground, her hands reaching for her knee, she screamed “Oh my fucking God.”
Catherine Hayden was running from the other side of the field. Ali was on the ground and
everyone around her was preaching to give Ali space.
Hayden told them to shut up.
The injury didn’t look bad enough to be an ACL tear. Hayden didn’t think it was. Ali had already done her time. She wasn’t due anymore bad luck.
But Ali knew.
She walked off the field in disgust. Angry at her knee, angry at the defender, angry at the world.
When she got to the training room, Scott Oliaro had her perform the same tests. He prodded the same way. He broke protocol and told Ali that he wasn’t really sure this time. Her knee wasn’t acting as clear as it did last time.
Coach Shelton came into the training room and asked Ali if she was good to go. Heck yeah, she was. Oliaro chimed in. No, she wasn’t.
She knew that the next thing she had to do was get an MRI. But Ali didn’t need the MRI to tell her the results. She knew.
She got the MRI the next day and the call that same night. Confirmed. ACL torn.
They were at their house in Chapel Hill and Ali walked into Hayden’s room, tears streaming
down her face. They sat down on Hayden’s floor and cried for over an hour. Some of their other
teammates, Marissa Creatore, Ellen Payne and Hannah Griggs also showed up to cry and give their support. And then Coach Shelton showed up to give Ali a hug and her encouragement as well.
Ali had to tell her parents the news as well.
When he received the news, Scott Rushton’s worst fears had been realized. He hadn’t told Ali
this while she was recovering from her first tear, but he had done a lot of research into ACL
tears and he knew that the likelihood she tore her ACL again was very high.
But once again his words were only that of encouragement. If Ali could make it through the first time, she could make it through this time as well.
And Ali was determined to make that exact thing happen.
Successful surgery again, this time in Chapel Hill, and on that date April 11th, her and Hayden made a pact that this was the last day they were going to cry until Ali was back on the field.
They mapped out the dates. Senior day was in about 6 months. Ali needed to be ready to play by then.
That cut 3 months off the standard recovery time, and that was barring any unforeseen
obstacles like tendonitis. A nearly impossible task.
Time to get to work.
Instead of leaning on her trainers, this time around Ali knew exactly where she needed to be
with her recovery at all times. She was pushing her trainers.
During that summer, Ali got a job, and Hayden would wake up at 5 in the morning to see Ali
leaving to go to rehab, followed by a full day at work, followed by more rehab that night. Then Ali would go to bed and repeat that cycle.
She had to be ready.
In her senior season, Ali was hoping to rejoin a squad that was facing a daunting task of its own.
Following up the undefeated National Championship field hockey team from UNC the year
before.
Early on, the Heels looked like they were going to lose a couple games this season, earning
some come-from-behind victories before the team started hitting their stride.
No losses.
And for Ali? All gains.
There was no holding back now. Every single day she was giving rehab all she had. She
wanted to be running by the time Senior day came around.
Finally, November 3rd, 2019 arrived. The day circled on Ali’s calendar.
She wasn’t ready to play. She hadn’t been cleared to run yet. She hadn’t even practiced with
the team yet.
She got the start.
Before the game, the team was devising ways to keep Ali on the field longer than the 10
seconds she was being allotted. She was playing defense on the opposite side of the field from coach. The team just decided that they were all going to ignore Karen Shelton’s call for Ali to come off the field. Not even 10 seconds in Ali heard “Rushton” being yelled from across the field. She was supposed to come off. She acted like she didn’t hear it. Catherine Hayden was standing right in front of the bench. She acted like she didn’t hear it.
Nearly 2 minutes in and Ali saw a chance to score. She dived for the goal. She didn’t score.
She couldn’t deny coaches calling anymore. She went to the sideline.
She didn’t get on the field again.
That is until the Heels got to the National Championship. At that point Ali had started practicing with the team. She had started running again. Nearly 3 months ahead of schedule.
Early in the game, it didn’t look like the Heels were going to have an easy victory. Ali sat
cheering on the sideline.
2-1 at halftime and Ali’s dream of playing during a National Championship was expiring.
Then it was 3-1.
And 4-1. And 5-1.
About 5 minutes to go in the game and the outcome was no question. Then Coach Shelton said, “Ali.”
Words could not describe the moment. Ali hugged her close friend and teammate Marissa
Creatore for 5 seconds, maybe longer.
Ali ran onto the field.
All the work she had put in. Every single tear shed felt worth it. Every single hour spent in rehab wasn’t pointless anymore.
The next 5 minutes rushed by. The rest of the seniors got put back on the field.
The buzzer sounded.
There is no progression to the emotion. One second, playing field hockey, next second,
screams and cheers. Emotion doesn’t beat around the bush. It doesn’t play mind games. It
doesn’t allow one to think. It’s very blunt. “We did it.” And for Ali, “I did it.”
