Dani Bartsch has given you everything she has

It was three weeks ago that Dani Bartsch pulled herself out of Montana's home game against Northern Colorado, off the floor and to the bench just a few minutes in, the pain in her foot more than she could bear. She removed her shoes, knowing her day was done.

It was an overuse injury that rudely announced itself a year ago, at first a burning sensation in her arch, a day later a literal Achilles heel, the simple act of jogging in for a lay-up in practice bringing her to tears, the latest affliction to keep Dani from being Dani, one that required offseason surgery.

Now it was her senior season and she was sitting on the bench in a tight game against the Bears, the discomfort in her foot no match for the growing strain it put on her spirit, the feeling that she was letting people down by not being on the court, competing alongside her teammates.

She owed it to her family, didn't she? Hadn't they been her faithful, dependable support system since, well, forever? What about her teammates? What were they thinking? They needed her and she was where? On the bench? By her own decision?

And what about the fans? They'd been there for her since her freshman year, the bond always a little bit different, a bit stronger, a bit more meaningful when a Lady Griz is a Montana girl. They'd backed her through the highs and the lows and this is how she was rewarding them? On the sideline, her shoes off?

It's quite a burden for a girl to carry when her body won't allow her to do what she wants it to do, when this deep into her career she feels indebted to those who have been there for her, especially when it's a girl as conscientious as Dani Bartsch, whose body hasn't been able to keep up with her dreams.

If it wasn't so heartbreaking, you could see the beauty in it, this girl who has given us everything still wondering if it's been enough. "Missoula has a phenomenal community," she says. "With that, I don't want to let them down and feel like they've wasted their investment in me.

"Family, too. Teammates, family, community. I feel like I owe them an obligation to play well, to go out there, play my best and give it my all. I don't want anyone to ever question my effort or heart. I don't want people to feel I'm letting them down because I'm not playing as well as I did last year."

As if any one of us needed any more reason to like Dani Bartsch, she goes and says something like that, as if the warrior isn't flesh and blood under that armor, isn't human with all the frailties that are inherent with spending your young adult life either swinging at a volleyball or shooting a basketball.

All the while jumping and bumping into people and generally putting her body in harm's way. What's amazing is that any of them, these seniors who are playing their final home game on Saturday, make it to the finish line without limping through the tape.

"Basketball has aged me, more than I could have expected it to," she says. "Maybe I feel guilty about it because of Carmen Gfeller. What genetics. Six years and that girl practiced all the time! Six years? What am I over here crying about four?"

Could you, Dani, play two more years of college basketball? What would it take? "A wheelchair on the sideline, rubbing IcyHot on all my joints. I don't know how Carmen did it or how anyone plays more than four years."

(Probably not the best time to remind Dani that Carmen is playing professionally in Luxembourg.)

Imagine what her body has had to endure over the course of her life. How many swings did that right arm take on the volleyball court, where she teamed up with her twin sister Paige at Capital High, where they won state titles as sophomores, juniors and seniors, ending on a 71-match winning streak?

How many screens has she set on the basketball court, how many hip checks absorbed? How many defenders has she blocked out while rebounding, each of them pushing on her back, the stress shooting through her body, right down to her feet, over and over and over again?

Remarkably, she only had one injury in high school that she can remember, more for her first experience with an ice bucket than the actual ankle sprain that she shook off and still played on the next day. "At the time it felt like the worst thing ever," she says. "Looking back, ha!"

She got consistent minutes off the bench as a freshman with the Lady Griz, then changed Montana's trajectory as a sophomore when she was inserted into the starting lineup in late January, bum shoulder and all.

Did we forget to mention the shoulder injury, the one that happened on Dec. 7, 2022, a date that Bartsch references without looking it up, an athlete knowing her personal history intimately, every ache and pain and when it started and what brought it on?

Rebounding was an issue at practice that day, a big problem, so the challenge was laid out, for the male practice players to go harder to the offensive glass, for the Lady Griz to hold them off anyways.

The biggest of the dudes, well over six-foot and north of 200 pounds, crashed into Bartsch from behind and her shoulder slipped out, slipped forward in the way a shoulder wasn't divinely designed to do. She wasn't Gumby after all. What goes out doesn't simply go back in without some sort of damage.

The way it felt, she assumed her arm was hanging off her torso by a few thin ligaments, about to drop to the floor. In her mind, all she could say was, Is it out? Is it out? Is it out? "I get heebie-jeebie with all that stuff. I felt like it was just hanging there. Imagining that in my own head made me nauseous."

It was fully attached but fully a mess, a shoulder already loosened by all those swings on the volleyball court now damaged by more acute trauma. She missed Montana's game the next day, at home against Grand Canyon, a lifetime first: DNP (injured). No athlete, not even her, is indestructible.

She got through the season with the help of kinesio tape, that magical bonding material that had to stay on for four days at a time, then took the skin with it when it was removed, only for new tape to go right back on, holding things in place well enough for Bartsch to get through the season.

She had surgery that spring, on her birthday, her arm immobilized for weeks, sleeping only allowed while sitting up in a chair. They expected a torn labrum. Rather, they discovered a torn labrum plus three ligaments that had been torn off her humerus. What lurks beneath the surface, right?

"The whole back side of my shoulder was just floating around in there," she says, this after averaging more than 11 rebounds per game over the final third of her sophomore season, never again having to prove her toughness, her willingness to give everything to the Lady Griz.

"They tightened it super tight (during surgery). I don't know if (Dr. Larry Stayner) was being serious, but he said he used 35-pound fishing line and got on his feet and was pressing against the table trying to get the ligament as tight as possible."

She returned in October, got through two weeks of being fearful of any contact, then put together a season for the ages as a junior, averaging 7.9 points and 10.4 rebounds, her 342 rebounds setting a new program record.

After making 23 3-pointers as a freshman and sophomore, she went 50 for 123 (.407) from the arc as a junior, her aim surprisingly improved upon through surgery. "When I came back, you didn't see anything drastic from my shoulder, other than my percentage somehow going up."

She received second-team All-Big Sky honors at season's end, setting the stage for what was going to be more of the same as a senior, a glorious months-long swan song. More 3-pointers, more rebounds, more winning.

Oh, yeah, that injury last February, the one mentioned above, the one that was probably just below the surface before making itself known as a burning sensation in her arch, at a time when her focus should have been on nothing else but Montana's comeback win at Sacramento State.

The Lady Griz trailed by 10 in the third quarter, by eight with three and a half minutes left. Game on. Gina Marxen hits two free throws, then a 3-pointer. Two-point game. Time to press even harder, with Bartsch harassing the in-bounder like she was on a pogo stick.

It was Greek Night. The Nest was going crazy, both excited about potentially knocking off the mighty Lady Griz and also nervous that what was once a comfortable lead was now anything but.

With all that going on, with all that external stimuli, Bartsch's mind went inward, to what was going on down there. Hey, why all of a sudden is my foot on fire?

"With the adrenaline I had in that moment, two minutes left, huge comeback, press, press, go, go. For me to take my mind off that and realize my foot was hurting? It was probably hurting more than it actually felt," she says.

That burning sensation? Just a tendon pulling away from a bone. No biggie. The next day, at practice at Portland State, is when the tears came, a player once again experiencing the fickle nature of college athletics and the fine edge between health and injury that they are built upon.

Ah, the power of tape, ibuprofen and some adrenaline. Bartsch had 19 points and six rebounds against the Vikings as Montana rolled to the win, but she would score just 14 points over the season's final seven games, limited in what she could do offensively, cuts and jab steps no longer part of her game.

Last summer turned into the equivalent of a stop at a roulette table. Go ahead, pick a color and put everything down on your decision. Good luck!

She was advised to let it rest, give it two months, then they'd reevaluate. Unnecessary surgery is never the best option, but she was on the clock. The end of her college basketball career was coming in March, as in this month, and she'd learned a thing or two from her shoulder situation.

She was given the same option then, rest and rehab or surgery. She'd been doing rehab for months and felt like it was going nowhere. It was only after they went in for surgery that they discovered just how bad it truly was, proof that an athlete knows her body better than anyone else ever could.

Now, the same thing, the same situation, but with her foot. What if she gave it two months of rest and nothing changed, noting improved? But what if she had surgery and her body would have been better off going through a natural heal, something that would have been a better long-term option?

Red or black? Red or black? Red or black?

She stepped up to the table and put everything she valued, mainly her time – to practice, to best prepare for her final season – on red. The wheel spun and the ball landed on black. After two months, nothing had changed, except she had fallen farther and farther behind with nothing to show for it.

You can feel the frustration from here, can't you?

Surgery it was, later in the offseason than it could have been done, a cable added to her arch to aid in support, tendons from her toes removed and used elsewhere, foot care via triage, a hierarchy of needs to get her through one more season of competition.

With so many new faces on this year's team, the one Montana needed on the court more than any other in September and October was forced to watch from the sideline. She could see what was needed right in front of her but was powerless to do anything about it, Bartsch a frustrated cheerleader.

She joined practice in a limited capacity in late October – not ideal! – and got in two full practices – two! – before Montana opened the season at Gonzaga. The preseason All-Big Sky selection, in one of the team's biggest non-conference games, didn't score and had one rebound in 19 minutes.

The mind was willing, so, so ready to go, but the body was so weak and unprepared for the pace and rigors of Division I basketball. It wasn't fair. At all.

"I wish on my end I would have been, let's do this right now," she says of the surgery. "Then I get a preseason and go into the season conditioned and ready to go."

It wasn't a matter of just playing harder. She was in no position to go all out, not if Montana needed her on the court for 20-plus minutes. She had to conserve energy, pick her spots, the telltale statistic rebounding. She had five or fewer more often than she had six or more through the first two months.

This wasn't Dani being Dani. This was Dani needing to be a lesser version of herself or she couldn't be anything at all, death for an athlete who holds herself to the highest of standards, for herself and for everyone else, her family, her teammates, the fans.

"Rebounding is really exhausting," she says, meaning it's part smarts, mostly effort, anticipating where a shot is going to miss, then getting there on time. It puts a player under the basket on almost every possession, with even more exertion needed to catch back up to the run of play down the court.

Repeat that again and again and again, and Bartsch was nowhere near ready to do that. What's wrong with Dani? Nothing. She just needed time to play herself back into shape.

"Coming back, I was just trying to conserve. Get to the next play, play good defense. I had to, for the first time in my life, actively say to myself, go rebound. That was infuriating. I know what I'm capable of. I did it last year. But my capabilities changed," she says.

Her 3-point shooting percentage is down, so is her overall shooting percentage, a reminder that everything that happens on the court comes from the ground and the feet up. It's the foundation of everything good. A strong cut? She didn't dare try it.

If her foot goes, her gait changes, which affects her hips, which tends to give her back pain, the pieces of the puzzle no longer fitting together without forcing them into place.

"My foot gets tired, so I start running differently, then my calf locks up. A lot of things have come with the foot that have been more problematic for me than my shoulder ever was," she says, "even though my shoulder seems like it would be a bigger injury."

A bum shoulder? Well, a girl can work around that. A bum foot? She's got no chance. "You can't avoid your foot. There are things I worry about when I play," she says, revealing that the idea of don't think, just play does not apply to her. She has to think for her very protection.

"It's hard to do anything when you're in pain. It just takes away the fun of things. To say I'm not looking forward to not being in so much pain …," she says, letting the thought hang there, unanswered, not willing to put words to its completion.

A fully healthy player can be in attack mode, seeing and reacting just-like-that. She has to be smarter, use her experience and knowledge to overcome her lack of attack. "My speed has drastically slowed down. I'm learning new ways to play basketball," she says.

And you've never heard her complain. Or give the coaches, her teammates, the program and you, the fans, less than everything that was asked of her. Until the Northern Colorado game, when she had to pull herself out. She sat out the Northern Arizona game as well, played limited minutes at Idaho State.

When Dani Bartsch sits out willingly, you know it's a big deal. And that it eats at her more than you can possibly know.

It isn't load management as much as it is getting to the finish line with all her body parts attached and functioning. Her practice time is limited, everyone knowing that conserving what she has left to give is best saved for games, but if you know Dani, you know it's not exactly easy for her to accept.

She believes in the earned economy of sports, that only what's put in can be withdrawn. You practice, you play, the latter only possible through the former. She understands the need to change that relationship at this point of her career, for the good of the team, but it hasn't been easy to accept.

"I feel bad being that person," she says. "Oh, she doesn't have to practice, but she gets to play?" She does because her coaches and teammates know how much she brings to the team when she's on the court, even when she's not what she wants to be.

Her rebounding numbers are growing, she can still score it, if not quite as much as last year, her assist-to-turnover numbers are still as golden as ever. "I've always been, don't mess up, pass the ball well, rebound. Those are my three things," she says.

"I'm probably half of what I was last year, but I'm definitely closer to the player I was last year than I was earlier in the year, by far. I don't want people to ever think, oh, she's ready to move on. I am but I'm not here to waste my time or the time of everyone around me."

Even though her foot looks like it could be a case for Dr. House, there is hope, hope after she received a steroid injection not long ago, something to dull the pain as Montana enters its final weeks of the season, as Bartsch comes to the end of her career. Just get her to Boise.

"The next Monday (after the injection), I ran in the trainers' room and it was the least amount of pain I've had since before my surgery," she says. "I almost cried. You get so used to being in pain, you forget what it feels like not to have it."

She'll never again be the full Dani, 100 percent of what she once was. But she can be 100 percent of this version of Dani. It's not a storybook ending, but at least she still has a hand in writing it.

You can picture Avery Waddington innocently telling Bartsch that, dang, she's a bit sore after that morning's lift. Freshman, please! "I'm like, no, no, no, just wait. I'm so achy in the morning, so stiff. I'm just trying to have a pickleball career after basketball. I have to be able to move a little bit."

And on those days when it all feels like it might be too much, she can find solace from Paige, who completed her own collegiate career in November, four seasons of volleyball at Boise State that has her needing her own shoulder surgeries, beyond the bone she had shaved down following her junior year.

Talk about the walking wounded. "Paige's shoulder is completely shot, too. Her labrum and ligament are needing to be done at this point but I don't think she thinks it's worth it. She can still play pickleball. That's our thing."

Both will graduate on the same day in May, Paige with a degree in education, Dani with a degree in accounting. But since Dani will be rolling right into a graduate program at Montana, she'll join the family in Boise to celebrate Paige, knowing her day will come a year later, master's degree in hand.

Even with all that, you don't get the sense that either one of them would change a thing, despite the wear and tear. "Absolutely not," says Dani. "I loved playing volleyball. That's something Paige and I will be able to bond over our whole lives. Those are memories I'll always cherish."

Just like the ones at Montana. It will be easy for Bartsch to look up on Saturday during Senior Day ceremonies, surrounded by her family, and see the banners ending at 2015 and remember that she hasn't done the one thing she came to Missoula to do: win a championship.

She'll play in the game, as many minutes as she's able to, then hang out on the court afterwards. That's where she'll be reminded, once again, that it's all been worth it and that she's done more than she'll ever know.

"Playing here has been an amazing opportunity for me, especially being a Montana kid," she says. "Some guy I'd never met told me, you've made Montana really proud. That's everything I wanted to accomplish here. That's super rewarding for me.

"We haven't hung a banner, but for little girls to come up after games and say, oh, I love watching you play, I want to be like you, I want to play like you, 40 is my favorite number. It's cool and makes it feel worth it."

No matter what she may think, Dani Bartsch doesn't owe us anything. Actually it's quite the opposite. It's we who are indebted to her, for enduring what she has and still giving everything she has for the Lady Griz. It's why they have Senior Day, our chance to let her know.

University of Montana Athletics

Players Mentioned

Dani Bartsch

Carmen Gfeller

Gina Marxen

Avery Waddington

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