By I have always been a confident athlete.
I was an All-Star who always stayed in games no matter how my body felt – a leader who always led with confidence and never let her teammates see doubt.
Being an athlete fixed everything. I trained to be the best, trained harder than everyone else, and I stayed longer in the cages. That’s how I was taught and that’s who I became.
Softball was more than a game. Softball was my identity.
Growing up around sports, I was introduced to competition early.
I began to measure myself by effort and performance. By my senior year I felt like I was on top of the world – all the hard work was paying off.
I had a plan to play college softball. I was confident in my future because I was in control.
I had offers from countless schools.
My childhood dream was about to come true: I was going to play Division 1 softball.
I had complete control of my life – until I misread the ball off the bat.
I was a few feet off second base, when I realized that the liner was not dropping in front of the center fielder – the ball would be caught.
I froze between the bases. I tried my best to scramble back towards second base, but my cleat got caught in the red clay dirt as I was preparing to slide.
I knew immediately that I had blown out my knee.
It was 2023. My senior year was just getting started, we were off in Las Vegas for our spring break. Just like every other game day, I had put on my cleats on, ran to the foul line, and waited for my name to be announced.
I was sliding into a base, something I have done hundreds of times.
But this time was different.
In a split second, the athlete who prided herself on her confidence was lying there in agony praying that she could just stand.
I couldn’t.
I got carted off the field with tears in my eyes.
My plan – like my knee- was shattered.
Recovering from ACL surgery requires up to a year of rehab and endless patience.
What they don’t mention is that the hardest part has nothing to do with your knee.
At a young age we are taught: Never give up!
Here I was, learning how to walk on crutches, not being able to bend my knee, and wearing a bulky robotic brace.
Every day I watched my teammates play the sport I once loved.
I watched little kids run and walk better than I could.
I wanted to give up. I wanted to quit.
Instead of fighting to win softball games, I was fighting self-doubt within myself. There were days that I questioned my worth: Who was I?
At one of the lowest points in my life, Coach Brittany Hendrickson at Mt. Hood Community College refused to let me answer those questions with fear.
When I didn’t want to believe in myself, coach was by my side believing in me.
Her faith became a foundation. Her faith helped rebuild my confidence.
I had someone who believed in me at a moment when I didn’t believe in myself.
She reminded me every day that my injury did not define me. She reminded me that I am much more than an athlete.
“Softball is just a small portion of your life, you are much more than the injury.”
Her words came from personal experiences. She had recovered from ACL surgery years prior. She understood the pressure of coming back to a sport. She lived it.
So every word she said to me carried weight. She understood me when many didn’t.
Her faith in me slowly started to restore my faith in myself.
Rehab stopped feeling like a burden. Rehab started to feel like a purpose.
I had a goal.
Everything I thought I had lost felt possible again.
My coach wanted to be a part of my recovery journey.
My coach was the person who restored my dream.
I came back early, March 2024. Healthy! A whole year after I tore my ACL.
Together, Coach B and I and my teammates won a championship.
Together. Coach B and I held the trophy up in the air – a feeling like no other.
She helped me become the athlete I was again.
That following season, I tore my other ACL. Coach B was my first call.
Before I was able to have any doubts and thoughts of fear, she told me everything was going to be OK.
Hendrickson’s faith in me did more than help me recover. She helped me reshape who I was as a person and an athlete.
Recovery from my second ACL tear took 11 months – 11 months of pushing myself, talking to myself, and staring at myself in the mirror.
On April 10, 2026, I stepped back onto the field for the first time as a Carroll player and got my first hit. After the game, Coach B was the first to congratulate me – even though she was 500 miles away.
“I am so proud of you, Jas Buh – and everything you have gone through!” she said
Every time I suit up, I think of her.
I think of the good times – the trophies, the ring, the wins and the moments that made me fall in love with softball.
Before every game I look at myself in the mirror and think of the hard times, when I had nothing left and Coach B was the one holding me up.
“I am so proud of you, and everything you have gone through!”
I no longer think of my future as playing softball. I now think about my future helping other players learn to believe in themselves.
I hope to teach them what Coach B taught me.
One day, I hope to become who she was to me.
I want to be someone’s faith.
