BYU Basketball’s Wing Richie Saunders, a key player for the Cougars, sat somberly in the locker room, his hands wrapped around an ice pack, his eyes distant. The moment the injury had occurred, he had felt an intense sharpness in his leg—a jolt that rattled through his entire body, instantly telling him something was wrong.
It had been an unfortunate collision during a fast break in practice. His right leg had twisted awkwardly as an opposing player, a teammate in the scrimmage, accidentally clipped him from the side. The sound of the impact seemed louder in Richie’s head than it actually was in reality, reverberating like a crash of thunder. A knee injury, the doctors had said, a sprain with some ligament strain. The initial diagnosis wasn’t catastrophic, but it would keep him off the court for at least five weeks, a devastating blow to a season that had started with so much promise.
As Richie sat there, the weight of the news sank in, heavier with every word his coach, Mark Pope, had said earlier that day. Five weeks. The team needed him—his explosive athleticism, his versatility as a wing, his ability to create space and score under pressure. And now, he would be sidelined, relegated to watching from the bench, an experience he wasn’t used to.
He couldn’t help but replay the sequence in his mind. He had been playing well, moving seamlessly between offense and defense, making cuts toward the basket, hitting open shots. He had been working hard to improve, hoping to carve out a bigger role this season. This injury felt like a cruel interruption to the rhythm he’d built over months of early mornings and late nights on the court.
“Five weeks,” Richie muttered under his breath, rubbing his eyes as if to clear the mental fog. It was a long time to be away from the game, but he knew it could have been worse. He had seen other players face far more severe injuries, some with no guarantee of ever returning to full strength. Richie had to remind himself to stay positive, that the injury was not as serious as it could have been.
The rehabilitation process ahead would be grueling. His physical therapist, Dr. Miles, had already outlined a rigorous schedule of exercises and stretches. It wouldn’t be easy. Richie’s muscles would need to be rebuilt, and his knee would need to regain stability and strength. Yet, there was a part of him that knew this setback was merely temporary. He had fought through adversity before—facing doubts and setbacks, proving he belonged. This would be no different.
His mind shifted to his teammates. They too had to adjust to life without him for a while. They’d need to pick up the slack in practices and games. Richie had always been vocal on the floor, a leader by example, always hustling, always pushing others to give their best. Now, the best he could do was support them from the sidelines, offer advice, and keep their spirits high as they faced their own battles.
His best friend on the team, guard Noah Waterman, had already texted him. “We got this. Don’t rush it, man. Take your time. We need you 100% back, not half of you.”
Richie smiled, the message offering a slight comfort, but he couldn’t help but feel the pang of frustration. He was anxious to get back, to return to the court with the energy, intensity, and passion that had defined his game.
As he lay back, staring at the ceiling of the locker room, Richie made a promise to himself. He would come back stronger, more determined than ever. The next five weeks were not going to define him. How he came back—how he persevered—would.
In the meantime, Richie Saunders would remain part of the team, not as a player on the floor, but as a support, a motivator, and a symbol of resilience. His journey wasn’t over. It was just temporarily on pause.
