By UCSD student-athlete and AMHA member, Hania Hafeez
We celebrate athletes when they commit to schools: the announcements, the photos, and the moment when years of hard work finally seem to pay off. But we rarely talk about the emotional toll it takes to get there, or what happens when the dream you built your identity around suddenly disappears.
I was filling up my water bottle before practice when my phone buzzed with a new email. It was from the coach at the Division I school I had committed to just a few months earlier—the school I had dreamed of attending. I opened it expecting an update before starting my senior year of high school.
Instead, I read the words that changed everything.
I no longer had a roster spot.
I remember sitting on the floor in complete disbelief. I couldn’t understand how something I had worked so hard toward for so many years could disappear in a single moment. Ever since middle school, one of my biggest goals in fencing was to compete at the Division I level. Every practice, tournament, and sacrifice was driven by that ambition. When the recruiting process began, I was excited about the future, but I also felt the pressure that came with it.
One school had always been at the top of my list. After meeting with the coach and visiting campus, I could truly picture myself there. When I received an offer, I was ecstatic. All of my hard work had finally paid off, and I was relieved that the hardest part was over.
Then, a few months later, everything changed.
Because of new roster limits resulting from an NCAA settlement, schools had to reduce the number of athletes on many teams, including mine. But the hardest part was not just losing the opportunity. It was realizing how much of my identity I had attached to it. I was embarrassed by how much it affected me.
I felt like my hard work meant nothing, and I began to dread going to practice because the sport that had once brought me so much joy became a reminder of what I had lost.I also found myself comparing my journey to other athletes. Hearing about other fencers committing to schools and moving forward with their college careers made it difficult not to feel like I was falling behind.
Slowly, I began tying my self-worth to whether or not I had a roster spot. Thankfully, I wasn’t alone.
My family helped me through one of the hardest moments of my athletic career. At first, I didn’t even think I was going to fence in college anymore.
But I started opening up about what I was feeling. I admitted that I was disappointed, frustrated, and uncertain. And that’s when things started to change. My family reminded me that one decision did not erase years of hard work. They reminded me that a coach could decide where I competed, but they could not decide my value as a person.
Their support helped me rebuild my confidence, and I decided to start over.
I reached out to more coaches, made more calls, visited more schools, and continued working toward my goal. It was not easy, but I realized something important:
I was not fighting for a roster spot anymore.
I was fighting for the sport I loved.
Eventually, I found UC San Diego, but more importantly, I found my love for fencing again. I still remember one moment during preseason that made me realize how far I had come. We were outside on the track during a difficult workout. It was hot, and I was exhausted. But in the middle of that workout, I looked up and saw the school’s logo on the side of the track.
I thought, “I can’t believe I’m actually here.”
Just months earlier, I wasn’t sure what my future in collegiate fencing would look like. Now I was standing on a college campus, surrounded by teammates, doing the exact thing I thought I had lost forever.
In that moment, I felt incredibly grateful.I was grateful I didn’t quit when things felt impossible. I was grateful for my family, who helped me keep going. Most of all, I was grateful that my journey did not go the way I originally planned because it brought me somewhere I love.
After finishing my freshman year at UC San Diego, I can honestly say that it has been one of the most enjoyable years of fencing I’ve ever had. I found incredible teammates and friends, coaches who believe in me, and a community where I feel supported not only as an athlete but also as a person.
Through this experience, I learned a few lessons that I hope other athletes can carry with them.
1. A roster spot can determine where you compete. A ranking can measure performance. A coach can make a decision. But none of those things determine your worth.
2. If you are struggling, don’t go through it alone. I wish I had opened up sooner instead of trying to carry everything by myself. Asking for help is not a weakness; it is a sign that you care about yourself enough to keep moving forward.
3. Do not compare your journey to anyone else’s. Everyone’s path is different, and your timeline does not have to look like anyone else’s.
We celebrate athletes when they commit to schools because those moments represent years of hard work finally paying off. What we don’t often celebrate are the setbacks that come with them. Maybe we should, because those moments often shape us the most. Losing my roster spot felt like the end of my dream, but it led me to a school I love, helped me rediscover my passion for fencing, and taught me that being an athlete is not just about what you achieve, but who you become along the way.
