Rating #60209 Details

Being part of Florida State’s new lacrosse program was supposed to feel exciting. We were told we were building something special from the ground up, creating a culture, and becoming the foundation for what this program would eventually be. That is a huge part of why I wanted to be here. But being inside the program feels very different from what was sold during recruiting. The environment often feels driven by fear, favoritism, and constantly trying not to end up on the wrong side of the coaching staff. How you are treated can feel heavily dependent on whether you are a favorite, getting meaningful playing time, traveling, injured, or considered useful at that moment. It makes it difficult to ever feel secure in your role or comfortable speaking honestly. The hardest part is feeling like we are expected to be athletes first and people second. Personal problems, mental health struggles, injuries, and things happening outside of lacrosse do not always feel like they are met with empathy. There is an overwhelming pressure to keep performing and not let anything affect you. Eventually, that starts changing how you feel about yourself and about a sport you used to love. Communication can feel inconsistent, and raising a concern does not always feel safe. There is a sense that speaking up could make your situation worse instead of fixing anything, so people learn to stay quiet. Even activities described as “voluntary” do not always feel genuinely optional, and the overall demands can make lacrosse feel like it controls nearly every part of your life. What has become especially difficult for me is realizing that these complaints did not begin at Florida State. Once I started questioning my own experience, I looked into what athletes and former athletes who say they played for Coach Tisdale at her previous programs had written. Some of it was genuinely disturbing because so many of the themes felt familiar. One former athlete alleged that after disclosing they had been sexually assaulted, Tisdale told them they “shouldn’t let things happening off the field affect me on the field.” Other athletes and former athletes have alleged NCAA practice-hour violations or that supposedly voluntary activities were effectively mandatory. They have described body-shaming, humiliation, punishment-based conditioning, favoritism, fear of retaliation, and injured players being treated as disposable. One former athlete alleged that an injured player on crutches was still expected to retrieve a bucket of balls. Another described extreme military-style training and alleged that a player sustained a concussion. Another alleged that after deciding to transfer, Tisdale went from promising to help with the process to speaking negatively about that athlete to other coaches. No anonymous account proves that every allegation happened exactly as described. But sitting inside this program now and then reading athletes from completely different years and schools describing many of the same dynamics is difficult to ignore. These allegations go far beyond people complaining that practice was too hard or that they did not play enough. If even some are accurate, they raise serious questions about athlete welfare, NCAA compliance, university oversight, injury management, retaliation, and whether athletes actually feel safe bringing concerns to someone with enormous control over their careers. That is probably what bothers me the most. From the outside, everything can look exciting and successful. Recruiting looks great. The program is new. Everyone talks about culture and building something special. Meanwhile, athletes who have negative experiences can transfer, graduate, stay anonymous because they are afraid of consequences, or simply be dismissed as bitter. Division I athletics are supposed to be demanding. We know what we signed up for. We expect hard practices, criticism, conditioning, competition, and sometimes sitting on the bench. That is not the issue. The issue is when athletes feel afraid of their coach instead of simply challenged by her. It is when injured players feel like inconveniences. It is when speaking honestly feels dangerous. It is when “optional” does not actually feel optional. And it is especially concerning when former athletes from previous programs are describing the same kinds of experiences years later. During recruiting, none of this is obvious. Coach Tisdale can be extremely convincing when talking about culture, family, opportunity, and being part of something historic at Florida State. I understand why recruits believe it. I did too. There are talented players and genuinely good people here, and this is not criticism of them. I also know that not every athlete will have the same experience, and some may genuinely love playing for her. But if you are considering coming to FSU to play for Coach Tisdale, do not only talk to the players the coaching staff chooses for you. Privately contact athletes who transferred, were injured, redshirted, rarely played, or decided the program was not for them. Ask what happens when you are struggling. Ask what happens when you are injured. Ask whether “optional” really means optional. Ask whether players feel comfortable disagreeing with her. Ask what happens when you want to transfer. And most importantly, ask why athletes across multiple programs have felt strongly enough to describe such similar experiences once they were no longer under her control. I wish I had asked those questions before I got here.