It was never Kristen Lee’s defensive abilities that set her apart. When she first walked on the Cal field hockey turf in 2012, it wasn’t her passing or her speed that slowly earned her more and more playing time. In fact, it wasn’t her physical ability that allowed Lee to excel far beyond her lowly “freshman” designation. It was the tenacity she played with, born partially from a desire to rectify her sister’s lost playing career, that compelled her to rise.

A renowned high school recruit, Lee had medaled in the Junior Olympics in 2010, been an all-league player in Los Angeles from 2009 to 2011 and won the Sunset League MVP in her senior season. When it came time to pick from the laundry list of schools offering her scholarships for field hockey, UC Berkeley topped the list.

“I knew I wanted to end up at a big public university — I just liked the tradition and culture of them a lot more,” Lee says.

But the choice of where to play was perhaps guided by more than a simple preference for the public atmosphere and academic challenge that UC Berkeley had to offer. Her older sister, then-senior Stacy Lee, was already a vice captain on the Cal field hockey team. In choosing to come to UC Berkeley, an opportunity arose for Kristen Lee to forge an immediate and rare connection to home in the massive transition from high school to college.

“I think growing up, Kristen had always idolized her older sister. She was very competitive, so she not only wanted to do everything her sister was doing, but do it better,” says Martha Jordan, Kristen Lee’s mother.

Stacy Lee, however, hadn’t touched the turf in years. A back injury forced her to retire after her freshman year, permanently relegating Stacy to the sideline. Her role then became that of a mentor for the entire team, and more so, for Kristen Lee. Extra film room sessions, moments of advice in the hyperbusy life of a Cal athlete and even the mundane sister-to-sister conversations added a degree of comfort that is oftentimes lost in the transition between high school and college. All added to the Kristen Lee’s desire to perform on the field, somehow making up for the time her sister couldn’t be on the field with her.

During Kristen Lee’s freshman year, the added motivation of playing for two further kindled a hyperactive athletic fire that she had fostered growing up. She played four sports in high school, and her water polo team won back-to-back CIF championships with her tending goal. Kristen Lee claims that she always preferred field hockey, enjoying on-land activity over the hours of swimming.

“Field hockey really became Kristen’s main sport just because she really adored her older sister,” Jordan says.

With Cal’s team coming off a strong 16-4 season in 2011, Lee had to prove herself to earn playing time as a freshman, thus earning the esteem of her peers and coaches.

“She played a lot and she played well, and we were looking forward to watching her growth to prominence,” Jordan says.

But her strong play would soon be derailed. A case of iron-deficiency anemia struck in the offseason prior to Lee’s sophomore campaign, ending the year before it had even begun. But the bad luck would not end there. The next fall in the preseason of her redshirt sophomore year, a back injury forced her to miss more time, throwing the rest of her playing career at UC Berkeley into serious doubt. A young and promising player who had both success and her sister’s guidance just two years prior now saw her playing days dwindling before her eyes.

Lee now had a choice to make — whether to give up on field hockey, her team and herself, or to move forward. The decision is easy for most athletes in the same position.

“It’s common with players in that situation, that you lose them a bit. They aren’t as engaged, they have other things going on, it’s a little harder to get connected,” says Cal field hockey head coach Shellie Onstead. “Kristen was never that kid.”

Lee chose to continue to help her team by any means necessary.

“At a certain point, I realized that my hockey career wasn’t going to develop into what I wanted it to, so I had to find a way to help the team in other ways,” Lee says.

Staying after practice to help the younger players, setting the tone and game tempo and stepping in when the team needed a voice of leadership, Lee quickly became the trendsetter for the entire squad.

“I’ve been injured and on the sideline for a lot of my career, so I wanted to make sure that I was still involved and still had a role in helping the team, even when I couldn’t necessarily be on the field as much as I wanted to,” Lee says. “So I asked ‘What else can I do?’ A big motto on our team is ‘look for work.’ Just look for something to do. Don’t be complacent. Figure out some way to lead the team.”

That supportive desire ended up transcending the on-field action completely, when her team was dealt a crippling hand from the campus. Maxwell Family Field — Cal field hockey’s home for years — was demolished for use as a parking garage after the 2013 season, displacing the team. After the team learned that the football team would have priority on the new field for practices in the fall, it was suspended in an indefinite limbo. Without a home field, the Bears often had to hold practice and play “home” games at other locales, including Davis, Stockton and Palo Alto.

“There was a time she called me, and she was very frustrated. She said, ‘Mom, if I wanted to play at Stanford, I would have gone to Stanford,’” Jordan says.

With the team having to travel an hour to practice at Stanford twice a week, the lack of a true home turf prevented it from getting as many on-field practice hours as other teams in the nation.

Undeterred by the issues of Cal’s field, the Bears’ season opened in 2014. With many on the team not sure how to move forward, Lee had to take the lead again. She and two other teammates began to look into legal options to protect the team’s rights. The three hired Equal Rights Advocates, a San Francisco firm specializing in women’s rights, and are currently exploring options including a Title IX suit.

“We just didn’t want anyone else to be stressed out about it. We wanted to be the ones to worry about it, and let everyone else keep focusing on what they should be focused on,” Lee says.

With the problem still seeking resolution, Lee is committed to finding the right answer for her teammates. Her tale, however, will never be fully defined by her actions off the field, especially after this past season. A backup for most of this year, Lee has worked hard to fully take advantage of every second that her body allowed her to play.

“We really had to call on that kid late in the year, at the end of big games, and she was ready to go. That’s really hard to do at the Division I level,” Onstead says.

Lee fully enjoyed this past year of hockey, despite the injuries and looming lawsuit. After an unsteady three years of play, she was able to find some consistency in the capriciousness of a Bears season that was largely fueled by the youth and inexperience of a freshman class guided by their seniors. Her savvy veteran leadership, therefore, was never taken for granted.

As the team looks to what lies ahead without one of their leaders, Lee knows she can look at the successes her young team will undoubtedly enjoy in the future and recognize her distinct impact on their growth.

“I really want them to do incredibly well next year, so I’ll be able to say ‘Wow, I had a part in helping that happen,’” Lee says.

As she looks forward to her own prospects, Kristen hopes to find strength atop her past — a cobblestone road of ups and downs — as her future beckons come graduation in May.

“She has really learned to stand up for what she believes in. Just speak up, to be aware of her surroundings, and to realize that you have to be a part of a team effort, no matter what happens and no matter what your role is — no matter what you expected it to be,” Jordan says.

One thing’s for sure: Kristen Lee will never be on the sidelines.

Austin Isaacsohn covers field hockey. Contact him at [email protected]