By Hannah Bellai
Disclaimer: This story includes discussions surrounding mental health and descriptions of emotional abuse
“Now, going back to serve, Hannah Bellai,” the announcer declares, his voice thundering throughout the Goldring Centre at the University of Toronto (U of T) on Oct. 18, 2024. My stomach drops in excitement at the sound of my name and I attempt to hide a smile. Standing at the end line, I hold the volleyball in my hand as I look toward my coaches. They’re gesturing to serve to position five. I give them a nod of understanding and they nod back.
I begin my serving routine: four dribbles off the ground before spinning the ball on my palm. Looking up toward the other end of the court, I notice right behind the opposing team—our rivals, U of T Varsity Blues—I have a clear view of the people in the stands: my friends.
Nearly fifteen of my friends came out to support us, the Toronto Metropolitan University (TMU) Bold women’s volleyball team, as we played in our cross-town rival’s gym. To my surprise, they made me multiple signs before the match, one bearing my name written in bold letters with a huge printout of my face and six other smaller signs, each displaying a letter of my first name and spelled out for the whole gym to see. They wave the signs high above their heads. My friends cheer with pride before I let my serve fly.
While this was my first time playing in a university volleyball match and my first time hearing my name announced through a university gym’s speakers, it was not my first time in this gym. I was once a member of the Varsity Blues women’s volleyball team.
I was quite the athlete in high school. I captained my high school volleyball team and was named the most valuable player for the four years I spent on that team and for the two years I played on the school’s basketball team.
In 2016, my volleyball club team attended a Guelph Gryphons women’s and men’s volleyball match one evening—my first time watching any university sport—and a bright, beckoning light burned within me. Ever since that night, it was my dream to play university volleyball.
Though I suffered an ACL tear and reconstruction late in my high school career, my university volleyball dream never diminished. I viewed this injury as a mere obstacle and took my year-long recovery very seriously, returning to the court with passion. I not only returned to form but was offered a full athletic scholarship by the U of T women’s volleyball team in 2019.
Honoured and electrified, I decided to take this opportunity. My dream was about to come true.
Before my first season started, I was promised by the team’s head coach that I would one day be the replacement for their current star hitter. She was eager for me to join the Varsity Blues program, proclaiming she saw greatness in me. My parents and I were thrilled and optimistic to hear this.
This excitement lasted until the first week of university.
The head coach’s attitude toward me changed drastically when September hit. I quickly felt subjected to public and private humiliation and it became clear to everyone on my new team that I was a target for her ridicule. As a shy, inexperienced and naive first-year student-athlete, I was not able to defend myself.
I recall my teammates trying to give me advice early in the season, saying things like, “try to blend in” and “you are not the first person she has done this to so do not take it personally.”
Looking back, I should have taken my first impressions of the Varsity Blues as a warning to leave. But playing university volleyball was my dream. I persisted through injury and recovery and years of training to get here. I thought I could stick it out, blend in and not take her words personally. This was a mistake.
What I endured only got worse as the season progressed.
The way the head coach acted towards me made me feel manipulated, isolated, intimidated and shamed in front of my team and in the privacy of one-on-one meetings with her. She would not give me the opportunity to play—sometimes in practice and never in games—even if I was performing well. The way she spoke to me and treated me had a deep, negative effect on my mental well-being.
In an email response to The Eyeopener on April 11, a spokesperson for U of T said the school provides “multiple avenues for student-athletes to bring forward concerns and feedback,” and recognizes the Universal Code of Conduct to Prevent and Address Maltreatment in Sport.
“Student-athletes may report maltreatment to the Faculty’s independent safe sport officer for investigation and follow-up. Alternatively, student-athletes may seek assistance through university complaint processes that are open to all U of T students. All complaints received are treated with utmost seriousness,” the statement reads.
My family and I wrote a letter to contacts within U of T athletics and U Sports in 2023—after I graduated from the school—informing them of the mistreatment I endured and how it could violate policies of fair treatment within the U Sports code of conduct, ethics and enforcement.
After submitting my complaint, I was told that U of T allegedly conducted an investigation around the team, but they never released any information or responded to my letter.
After two seasons of continuous mistreatment on the Varsity Blues team, I started to believe I was not an adequate volleyball player.
During practices, I was never acknowledged when I did something right and she was vicious if I did something wrong. Every time I spoke, I always said the wrong thing. I could not even stand in a team huddle properly for her.
And I hated volleyball.
I quit the Varsity Blues at the beginning of my third year in 2021 over a Zoom meeting with the head coach and assistant coach. I knew it was the right thing to do, even though it killed me to end my university volleyball career—my goal, my dream. But I had to remove myself from that toxic situation. As I quit, I remember tears uncontrollably rolling down my splotchy red cheeks. I told them it felt like I was not even a part of the team. She ended the call by saying I could’ve been a really good university volleyball player one day. That was the last time we spoke.
My heart broke that day.
After quitting, I navigated many emotions. I felt relief from the fact that I would not interact with her anymore, heartbreak from having my dreams crushed and grief for my loss of identity as a student-athlete and volleyball player.
During this time, I suffered from some difficult mental health issues. This experience had broken all of the confidence I had in myself as a player and person. I lost my passion and competitive drive. I no longer believed in myself or my abilities.
The person I was died.
I didn’t play volleyball again until a friend begged me to play in a co-ed tournament months later. At first, I didn’t know what to expect, but soon after the first game started, I found myself having fun. In fact, I eventually joined the Tri-Campus League—a junior varsity league comprising teams across the university’s three campuses—becoming the team captain shortly after.
It turned out that this junior varsity league contained many former Varsity Blues volleyball players who said they were forced to quit or cut from the team. In 2022-23, there were a total of 10 ex-players, making the level competitive. My team won the league in the first year I played.
I continued to play in co-ed tournaments and the junior varsity league for the rest of my time at U of T. I was welcomed in both of those communities as a valued and respected member. It allowed me to create friendships with supportive people who listened to my story and play volleyball in a safe environment. Because of their kindness and enthusiasm, my confidence began to come back. I started liking volleyball again.
I graduated from U of T in 2023 and decided to stay connected in the volleyball world, coaching an Ontario Volleyball Association club—the Phoenix Rising girls-under-14 club team—playing lots of beach volleyball and practicing with the junior varsity team as a guest.
Despite all this, I felt lost and incomplete. My mental well-being still suffered from the trauma I experienced with the Varsity Blues. Every time I played volleyball, a deep anger still bubbled within me. If I played poorly, familiar feelings of inadequacy would resurface. If I played well, I would feel resentful that I was forced out of my sport and made to feel uncertain about my skills.
After one guest practice in October 2023, where I played like a superstar, I had a mental breakdown. I remember thinking I did not endure years of training and effort to be a guest practice player.
That evening, I decided I wanted to play varsity volleyball again.
My dream reignited in a blaze. I began developing a letter to send to various university coaches while on a hike with my mom, later writing it out in my notes app in a local coffee shop. I kept guest practicing, started to record myself and made a highlight video. For months, I proceeded to send out the letter and video to coaches across the country—including TMU Bold women’s volleyball head coach Dustin Reid—in hopes of joining their team and playing U Sports volleyball.
Many coaches responded and I attended a couple of university practices to try out. But TMU did not respond to my email.
By chance, a mother of one of the Phoenix Rising players organized an evening for the girls to watch the Bold play and have a meet-and-greet with the team afterwards. This was my chance to introduce myself to Reid.
He was delighted to meet me and happy I came up to introduce myself. He told me he got my email, watched my video and talked to his assistant coach about me. He then invited me to practice with them near the end of their season, saying to keep in touch.
After waiting for months with uncertainty and anxiety, my tryouts with the Bold finally arrived. I crushed it. I ended up making the team and committed as a first-year to the TMU Bold women’s volleyball team during the summer of 2024.
My first impressions of the Bold were the exact opposite of the ones I had with the Varsity Blues. The TMU Bold women’s volleyball team uplifted me and filled me with encouragement. I am surrounded by amazing people who care for me and respect me as a player and person. Here, I have been given a chance that I did not have before. My coaches, trainers and teammates believe in me. I have been performing better, my mindset has grown stronger, my competitive drive has returned, and I have recovered my confidence and belief in myself again.
As I stand here in our rival’s gym at the Goldring Centre—volleyball in hand and about to serve in a university match—I can wholeheartedly say: I love volleyball.
Looking out at my old team across the net, then to my former coach, then to my new teammates and finally to my friends holding the signs radiating with pride in the stands, I smile and let my serve fly.
We ended up winning the game in five sets.
I scream and cheer with the rest of my team as the game-winning point is scored. Pure happiness rushes through me as we exchange hugs, smiles and laughs. I even find Reid and give him a hug, thanking him for allowing me to live my dream.
When it was time to shake hands with the Varsity Blues, a quiet panic set over me. This would be my first time interacting with her since the day I quit. I shake every player’s hand, exchanging a “good game” with each, as I approach the Varsity Blues coaches. My old assistant coach is first but my focus is behind him. My old head coach—seemingly smaller now than she was before—looks me in the eyes and holds out her hand. I shake it and look right back at her as she says, “You played great, Hannah.” I simply nod and keep moving forward.
That pre-season win has gone down as one of the most impactful moments in my life.
Throughout 17 games this season, I had 112 kills, the most for a Bold rookie since 2016-17. Now, I am beyond excited to continue my career with the Bold women’s volleyball team and forever grateful to join the TMU Bold community.
I end with a plea. To any athlete going through the terrible experience of being on a team with a toxic environment, do not be afraid to leave that space and start over on a team that respects you. You will find yourself happier and stronger than you ever dreamed possible.
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