Life After College Athletics: Growth Through Uncertainty

Share Your Story Series: Navigating life after sport and the uncertainty that comes with life’s transitions.

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MY NAME IS EMMA KRAMER & THIS IS MY STORY

DII Basketball | Simon Fraser University | TAC Ambassador

For most of my life, my identity was inseparable from sports. In my early years, it was soccer. Then it became soccer and basketball. Eventually, when the time came to choose one to pursue more seriously, basketball became my anchor — the thing that shaped my days, my goals, and who I was. Countless hours of practice, long seasons, and early mornings became the rhythm of my life. Even in the classroom, when professors or teaching assistants asked for a fun fact about ourselves, mine was always, “Hi, my name is Emma, and I’m a member of the women’s varsity basketball team.” Basketball wasn’t just something I did — it was who I was.

That identity came to an abrupt halt on March 2, 2023. A first-round loss in the GNAC conference tournament ended my time as an intercollegiate athlete. Suddenly, “life after the game” wasn’t an abstract concept for future me to worry about — it was here, and I wasn’t quite ready. I felt like I was standing at the edge of a cliff with no idea what was below. I had discovered a passion for working in intercollegiate athletics, but I wasn’t ready to let go of playing. I had earned a degree in criminology, yet I didn’t want to “waste” it by going in a different direction. My friends and teammates seemed to have clear plans for their futures, while I felt stuck, overwhelmed, and already falling behind.

I eventually decided to pursue a master’s degree while working as a graduate assistant in an athletics department. On paper, it made sense. I had a plan. I had a new opportunity. But the truth was, I felt like I was letting go of two pieces of myself at once — the game I wasn’t ready to quit, and the degree I had spent five years earning. And the anxiety crept in. What if this was the wrong choice? What if it took me down a path I didn’t actually want? What if I failed? Those questions only got louder when I added the stress of moving to a new city, in a new country, thirty hours from my support system.

The reality of that year was… messy. My supervisor left within a month. My student visa got delayed. Homesickness and self-doubt were constant companions. But in the middle of the chaos, something unexpected happened — I got the opportunity to work with the women’s basketball team. And just like that, I fell back in love with the sport. Not as a player this time, but as a coach. I poured everything I had learned as an athlete — the lessons, the mistakes, the growth — into trying to be the kind of coach I had always wanted. My role shifted into coaching full-time, and with it, my passion began to shift too.

But transitions aren’t linear. I applied for an internship I wanted more than anything, one I was sure I’d get… and I didn’t. Once again, the questions came flooding back. My graduate assistantship was ending, and while working in college athletics had been my goal all along, I realized the one thing that never left me — through wins, losses, and career pivots — was my love for basketball. Not just coaching. Playing. So, I took a risk. I reached out to a relative in Germany who put me in contact with a coach, unsure of what would come of it, but certain I didn’t want to live with the “what if.” And they gave me the chance to play again. That decision wasn’t free from anxiety. It meant changing my life’s trajectory yet again. It meant embracing uncertainty, risking failure, and stepping into the unknown — but it also meant honoring a dream I might never have the chance of achieving again.

Here’s what I’ve learned: life after the game isn’t just about leaving sports behind. It’s about facing the anxiety that comes with losing the life you’ve always known. It’s about realizing you won’t always land the job you thought you’d get, and you won’t always make the “perfect” choice. It’s about learning to live with the uncertainty and trust that new opportunities — even the scary ones — can lead you somewhere beautiful. Because the truth is, your identity isn’t lost when your playing days end. It’s evolving. And while the game might change, the lessons, the drive, and the passion you built as an athlete will always be part of who you are.