THE DAY KYNDAL STOWERS was told she couldn’t play volleyball anymore, she got in her car, silenced her phone, and drove aimlessly around town.

It was the spring of 2024, and she had endured four concussions over eight months on the volleyball court at Baylor, once in a collision with a teammate and three times from getting hit by the ball. “Why does this keep happening?” she asked herself. She figured she would redshirt her sophomore season and give her brain time to heal.

But near the end of the 2024 spring semester, a team doctor summoned Stowers. She thought it was just another checkup. When she arrived, the doctor, a trainer and a member of the university’s compliance department greeted her. They told her that she was being medically retired, and that her tuition would be paid for but her playing days — at Baylor at least — were finished.

She eventually went home to Denton, Texas, and watched the 2024 Final Four on her parents’ couch.

One year later, on Sunday, Stowers stood on the court at the Bob Devaney Center in Lincoln, Nebraska, celebrating her Texas A&M team’s five-set upset over the No. 1 — and previously undefeated — Cornhuskers in the regional finals. She had 25 kills and then found her mom in the crowd and cried. She rarely does that, Tina Stowers said.

But this is a story about the unlikeliest player on the unlikeliest semifinal team in the NCAA women’s volleyball tournament, and the moment commanded some emotion. It’s about a sports family supporting her decision to keep playing, and taking the steps necessary to ensure she’s as safe as she can be in an unpredictable arena of high-velocity swings, crashing bodies and flying elbows.

On Thursday, she’ll play for Texas A&M against Pittsburgh in the national semifinals.

“I knew that I wasn’t done,” Stowers said. “How can I be done with something I never got to start?”

THE STOWERS FAMILY knows about the violence of sports. Don Stowers, Kyndal’s dad, played football for New Mexico State in the 1990s, and was invited to the NFL combine. He played in NFL Europe for a year, and before that was a priority undrafted free agent for the Cincinnati Bengals before becoming a preseason cut by the Bengals and Denver Broncos. But he said there’s video of him tackling Emmitt Smith in a preseason game.

He has coached high school football in Texas, and his son, Eli, is a tight end for Vanderbilt. Tina Stowers graduated from Baylor, played beach volleyball for more than a decade, and coached high school and junior college volleyball. She said she never had a concussion in 30-plus years of volleyball, but acknowledges that back then, there were no protocols, and assessments were generally concluded with the term “getting your bell rung.”

But concussions in volleyball aren’t as rare as they might seem. A 2023 study found that volleyball had the highest rate of concussions (4.93 per 10,000 athlete exposures) among limited-contact sports, including softball, swimming/diving and baseball, and a rate higher than men’s basketball, which is considered a high-contact sport. The NCAA has a concussion safety protocol that schools must follow that applies to all sports. It includes immediate removal from a game or practice if a concussion is suspected and continued evaluation by a team physician in the hours and days following the injury.

When Kyndal sustained her first concussion at Baylor during the summer of 2023, before her freshman season, she called her mom. She was annoyed, Tina Stowers said, but otherwise fine. Then came the September game when she dove for a ball and a teammate went airborne and kneed her in the head.

Baylor sat her for 10 days, Tina Stowers said, but about a week after she returned, she looked tired. After an early October game, Tina and Don spoke to the trainers.

“So they were like, ‘You know what? We’re just going to take you out of the gym for a little bit longer,'” Tina Stowers said. “And then she was shagging balls and she got hit by [a serve] probably going 70 mph. Hit her right in the back of the head.”

When Stowers played, she dominated. During her freshman season, she had double-digit kills in 12 of the 14 matches she played. She had 29 kills and 16 digs against SMU; she hit above .450 in three matches and was once named Big 12 offensive player of the week.

But she never played after that Oct. 6 game against Kansas State.

During a spring practice in February 2024, she got hit by a shanked ball. She was diagnosed with her fourth concussion.

Baylor coach Ryan McGuyre said the decision to medically retire her was difficult for him and the Stowers family to take.

“Both of us were frustrated about not being able to navigate forward or at least just wait longer and let it work itself out,” he said.

BACK HOME IN Denton, Stowers lifted weights and worked on her speed and explosiveness alongside football players. She served and swatted at volleyballs alone in her club gym. She did Fellowship of Christian Athletes camps, binge-watched some TV series and dog-sat to earn money. Her symptoms waned.

One of the biggest perks of being off for an entire autumn was that she was finally able to see her brother play football for Vanderbilt.

“On the weekends, I was going to all of his games,” she said, “which was really cool because I’ve never been able to do that ever because we’ve both been playing at the same time.”

Her mom lovingly called her “college dropout” during her stay back home.

During the 2024 NCAA volleyball tournament, she entered the transfer portal. She wasn’t sure what the market would hold for a 19-year-old outside hitter with an extensive concussion history. She was at church one day when an onslaught of calls and texts hit her phone. It was so intrusive that she had to activate the “Do Not Disturb” feature.

Texas A&M coach Jamie Morrison was among the many reaching out. The Aggies were coming off a 21-8 season that ended with a five-set loss to Wisconsin in the regional semifinals. They were returning a talented roster, but there was room for more. Soon, Stowers visited College Station. Her brother started his football career there before transferring to New Mexico State and then Vanderbilt, so she was familiar with some of the faces and the athletic department’s culture.

“But obviously meeting the volleyball staff and seeing what they were about in their program meant a lot to me,” she said. “So, yeah, fell in love with it and then committed two days later.”

MORRISON SAID HE had two priorities when Stowers arrived. He wanted to give her back the thing she loved — the ability to play volleyball. He said he was also committed to keeping her safe.

Stowers wasn’t just working out during her time away from volleyball. She underwent concussion rehabilitation at the Andrews Institute in Plano, Texas, and received VOMS (Vestibular Ocular Motor Screening), which is a clinical assessment tool.

“When I moved home, I saw a ton of doctors in Dallas,” Stowers said, “a lot of very well-known neuropsychologists. Neurologists. Even some, like, general people, across every board that I could think of because I didn’t want to put myself at risk.

“I mean, my dad played football … my brother is about to go into the NFL. The world of concussions is not foreign to me, and I know obviously what that can lead to. So I didn’t want to put myself at risk by any means. Part of it was like, I want to get all of this evidence that I’m fine to continue playing, but I also want to make sure I’m good.”

She said that eventually, the lingering concussion symptoms she’d experienced at Baylor were gone, and she was cleared to continue playing volleyball by her personal doctors.

“I would never have put my daughter back out on a court if I thought it was not safe for her,” Tina Stowers said. “We definitely got plenty of clearance from a lot of people that know better than I do. And then it just kind of worked out.”

Morrison said A&M’s medical staff pored through all of her medical records, which accounted for about 60 hours of work. One of the conditions he set for Stowers to play was that she wore a Q-Collar, a horseshoe-shaped safety device that is worn around the neck and has been cleared by the FDA.

Dr. Julian Bailes, a renowned neurosurgeon and concussions expert who was part of the research and development of the Q-Collar, said the device has a spring inside that compresses the jugular.

“And what that does,” he said, “it puts a little more blood in the cranium, which reduces the ability of the brain to move or slosh around. …

“If you get hit on the head by any mechanism, if the brain doesn’t move, it doesn’t get injured. It’s the movement of the brain that creates brain injury, whether it’s concussion or, you know, major injury in a car accident or a fall, something like that.”

Though the device, which has become common in the NFL, has its skeptics, most everyone agrees that more research on concussion prevention needs to be done.

Stowers said she has worn the Q-Collar all season, and has been hit in the head occasionally. That’s going to happen to everyone, she said. But she hasn’t sustained another concussion, and doesn’t worry about getting hit in the head.

“I’ve been perfectly fine,” she said.

IT HAS BEEN a busy December for the Stowers family. Eli won the John Mackey Award, which is given to the nation’s top tight end, and the William V. Campbell Trophy, which honors the top scholar-athlete.

The family has jet-setted to New York and Las Vegas for Eli’s awards, then watched Kyndal play in the postseason in between. Sometimes it’s hard to remember what time zone they’re in — or where they are.

Texas A&M came back from two games down last weekend to knock off No. 2-seeded Louisville, then had the gumption to cancel the plans of thousands of Nebraskans who were supposed to flock three hours south to see their undefeated team hoist the trophy.

“Zero surprise to me what she’s doing,” said Baylor’s McGuyre, who has known Stowers since she was in junior high. “I’m really excited for her. My wife was the first to tell her, ‘Hey, if you don’t feel like you’re done playing, go play. You’ll flourish.’

“We were cheering super, super loud in that Nebraska match. Seeing her do what she did just kind of is another sucker punch to the gut a little bit, like, ‘Oh, what if?’ But I think both families still believe there’s a purpose and plan in this life. … I believe in over-comers. I wouldn’t be [talking] if I didn’t believe she’s something special.”

The Stowers family will be there Thursday to watch Kyndal try to do what seemed impossible 12 months ago. And if the Aggies beat Pitt, Eli hopes to make it to Sunday’s championship game.

On Tuesday, Kyndal, who was scrambling to pack for Kansas City, paused for a moment to reflect on the Aggies’ postseason run. She felt as if she fit in seamlessly when she arrived in College Station, that she was around like-minded teammates with the perfect measure of confidence and goofiness.

Nobody has time to worry about the heaviness of the moment.

“[Last year] I was sitting at home on my couch watching all these games being played,” she said.

“I believe that that’s where the Lord had me. And I was like, ‘This is a really cool story. God, if you want me to come out of this, how dope would that be?’ I mean, being medically retired, and now we’re here? It’s surreal.”