"I have almost nothing positive to say about this woman and her staff. She will absolutely sell you a narrative that she will be a mother figure, that she cares so much about you, and that this program will feel like a home away from home. In my experience, that could not have been further from the truth. I committed to WVU after being recruited heavily since I was a sophomore in high school, and at first the staff made it feel like a no-brainer. They made both me and my parents feel comfortable and gave the impression that this would be a supportive environment where I would be cared for as both a player and a person. Unfortunately, my experience once I got there was very different from what was presented during recruiting. These are just a few of the things that immediately come to mind. The environment felt extremely controlling, invasive, and far less welcoming than it was originally presented to be. The program sells itself as a place that supports and uplifts a diverse group of girls, but that was not my experience. One of the clearest examples of that was the strength coach at the time, who is no longer there, and from what I witnessed, he made racist comments toward some of my teammates of color and also made inappropriate sexual jokes based on our Oura ring data. He would joke to staff that heart rate spikes in the middle of the night meant girls were having sex, which was humiliating, invasive, completely unprofessional, and not even accurate. The fact that behavior like that was tolerated at all said a lot about the culture. On top of that, we were team-mandated to wear Oura rings for “research purposes,” with little to no option to refuse, and my own scores were brought up in ways that felt deeply invasive. My scores were discussed in meetings with my roommates, where they were asked what I was doing on nights when my scores were low. It became so uncomfortable that my roommates had to ask for my name to stop being brought up in their one-on-one meetings because those meetings were supposed to be about them and their development, not me. I was also body shamed multiple times by the head coach, the first time being during my second week on campus, even though I looked exactly the same as I did when they recruited me. Physical punishment was used constantly, especially for things unrelated to soccer. The VersaClimber was used as a main form of punishment for things like missing an academic advisor meeting, being late to treatment, not getting enough sleep or not syncing an Oura ring, or not hitting projected study hall hours. The staff ultimately got in trouble with the school over some of these punishment practices, especially when athletes were being physically punished for issues tied to sleep and recovery. There was one time I was made to log roll the full length of the soccer field and back on wet grass because my cleats were not tied before practice began, and then I was forced to practice in my wet, grass-covered clothes for the rest of practice. Instead of feeling supported, I felt constantly watched, judged, and broken down in an environment that was nothing like what had been promised to 16-year-old me. It was also no secret that players were treated differently depending on where they stood on the roster. There was a time when some of the other freshmen and I, because we were not traveling, were denied a team dinner at the practice facility because we were told there was “not enough food,” even though it was a fully catered meal and there was clearly plenty. So much of the environment felt like a humiliation ritual, almost like the coaching staff enjoyed watching freshmen struggle to find their footing in the program. One of the hardest parts of my experience involved a conversation Nikki and I had about redshirting. A week before conference play started, I met with her and told her I wanted to redshirt, and she agreed that it was the best option for me. Then, in the last non-conference game that same week, she called me over and asked if I wanted to go in. I told her that based on our conversation earlier that same week, if she saw me playing again later in the season, then absolutely yes. She said, “Well, I guess we will see.” I went in for about 25 minutes, played well, and even had positive film in the team film session that week, but I never played again after that. In my exit interview, I told her I felt like my redshirt had been intentionally burned, and she acted shocked that I would even think that. I felt completely blindsided, and I felt like my trust in someone who had at minimum promised to do what was best for me as a player had been taken advantage of. I would not recommend this program or this coaching staff to anyone. I felt like they intentionally tried to isolate me, push me out, and make my life miserable even though I was on scholarship, not breaking team rules, and doing everything I could as a freshman to stay out of trouble. Instead of being supported and developed, I felt judged, singled out, and unwanted. I have never felt worse about myself than I did while playing in this program, and that is not something I say lightly. You are basically still a kid when you make this decision, and it can affect you for years. Yes, you can transfer or stop playing, but that does not erase what an experience like this can do to you mentally and emotionally. Please, I beg you to do your research, talk to people, and be honest with yourself about what is actually the right fit for you. Do not choose a place just because of the name, the image, or what other people think you should do. Based on my experience, there was a definite culture of fear around Nikki, and no one on staff was ever willing to stand up for what was actually right. Please seriously think twice before choosing this program. "