For Taylor Unroe and her family, butterflies and fairies have always served as a symbol.
She doesn’t quite know how to explain it or know if it’s weird, but Unroe can remember the fairy song her great grandmother made up and used to sing to her and her siblings.
“Our family loves fairies and butterflies,” she said. “That’s like our thing.”
When she was 15, Unroe visited Florida. Unlike most recruits, the final selling point for Unroe wasn’t the 17 Southeastern Conference championships, the plush volleyball-only practice courts and other facilities or even the idea of playing for the winningest college coach since 1991.
During the visit, Unroe and her mother, Shelby, heard about the Butterfly Rainforest exhibit at the Florida Museum of Natural History on campus. A visit was something neither could pass up.
What followed was an opportunity for reflection and a moment of clarity.
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When Mike Lingenfelter decided to bring a 15-year-old Unroe onto one of the nation’s most elite club volleyball teams for girls up to 18, he had concerns.
As a member of the Muncie (Ind.) Munciana Samurai, she would be forced to mesh with high school seniors nearing college careers. Lingenfelter doubted she would be able to communicate with them.
“My first thought was that it was going to be a huge social issue for her,” Lingenfelter said. “She was physically capable.”
Unroe has played volleyball since she was 4, progressing through elementary school with the help of her gym teacher, current Ball State volleyball coach Steve Shondell.
Her talent and experience were unmatched. But during her first year on the Samurai, Unroe’s abilities didn’t transition onto the court.
Early on, Lingenfelter noticed problems. He said Unroe just “wasn’t very good,” adding there was a clear lack of focus and a broken nature in which she carried herself.
Both Unroe and Lingenfelter recall the day he pulled her aside before practice. Unroe said her coach had heard rumors she was contemplating quitting the team, something she attributed to the gossip-heavy small town of Muncie, Ind.
A simple chat became what Unroe described as a “Come to Jesus” meeting, ending in tears and mutual understanding. Lingenfelter’s talk stretched into practice time, cutting the day’s work for the Samurai.
There was good reason.
“That little period where she was struggling in practice also coincided with the death of her sibling,” he said.
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Ashlee Pittenger, Unroe’s sister, passed away on April 5, 2007 at age 24.
Four years later, Unroe, a redshirt freshman, still is not comfortable publicly discussing the details of her sister’s death.
Lingenfelter could empathize. As a young boy, he had lost his older brother, a topic he admits is easiest to discuss with others who have been in his situation.
“If you’ve never been there, it’s a mute conversation,” he said. “If you have been there, it’s a fraternity that probably bears sharing.”
The emotional attachment created what Lingenfelter called “an instant connectivity.” For him, looking at Unroe was like looking in a mirror: an everyday observation of a player who was equal parts maddening, frustrating and rewarding to coach. He argued with her more than he did with any other player, often getting smart-alec remarks in return.
For Lingenfelter, his role transformed from monitoring her decisions to becoming a good friend.
“We were both hard-headed, stubborn, rude sometimes,” Unroe said. “I can’t even describe how much of a bond we formed because it’s so deep.”
It was a relationship often defying polite and respectful norms. Even in the darkest moments and during the most meaningful conversations, Lingenfelter and Unroe pulled no punches.
“Life is life,” Lingenfelter would say. “Some of it’s magic, and some of it’s tragic. You’ve just got to roll with that. You’ve got to figure it out.”
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One week after the death of her sister, Unroe was faced with a dilemma.
In Baltimore lied an opportunity to play in front of some of the country’s most elite colleges at a club tournament. At home in Muncie was Shelby and Kyle — a grieving mother and a heartbroken sister.
Unroe went against her initial thoughts and elected to play, traveling with a teammate’s family and performing at a level she called “terrible.”
“I was crying half the time,” she said. “I wasn’t myself.”
Still, her performance warranted the attention of then-UF assistant coach Ryan Theis. After filming Taylor, he showed the video to head coach Mary Wise, who attended a Samurai practice to see her and set up a visit.
“It was something good that came from something that was so terrible,” Unroe said. “I was worried that I wasn’t even going to get recruited by a college.”
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Unroe and her mother expected a few butterflies at the rainforest exhibit. They were overwhelmed when they came across thousands.
When they first walked in, one large butterfly landed on Unroe’s shoulder. Ashlee immediately came to mind. It was another day full of tears.
Unroe wept while admiring the scenery, then again while explaining its significance to Wise and then-associate head coach Nick Cheronis.
Shelby had made her daughter wait to commit until after she had visited Florida, but now there was no hesitation.
“My mom and I didn’t even need to talk about it,” Unroe said. “We both agreed that this was the right place for me after that, specifically.”
At 15, she was a Gator.
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Her decision would not be the end of her troubles.
As a senior at Burris High, Unroe fractured and sprained her ankle. She elected to play through it, winning an Indiana high school state championship and playing for a national runner-up club team.
“Typical of Taylor Unroe, she wasn’t going to sit out,” Lingenfelter said. “Had we known what the ramifications were, we probably wouldn’t have played her.”
Unroe’s ankle was damaged to a point that required surgery and a redshirt to start her Florida career. Instead of the opportunity to contribute as a freshman last season, she was forced to watch practice from folding chairs in the Lemerand Center.
Part of a two-deep recruiting class, Unroe was isolated from sharing her experience with anyone on the team, as fellow freshman Chanel Brown earned honors as an SEC All-Freshman Team selection.
A 15-hour drive from home, Unroe was often alone and depressed.
“It was the worst time of my life,” she said. “I had plenty of meltdowns and plenty of breakdowns and crying calls to my mom, plenty of stuff like that.”
When talking to Lingenfelter, Unroe always promised a resurgence the following year. Slowly, he began to notice a new maturity in their weekly phone calls. Unroe was doing well in school and adjusting to Gainesville. For the first time, she was able to separate volleyball from life.
“She’s a beautiful kid,” he said. “I think she started realizing that for the first time.”
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Fast-forward to the present and Unroe’s name is announced loud with the lights out before every game at the O’Connell Center.
She wants to be remembered as more than a success in Muncie, something that drives her to be the best libero she can be for the Gators.
Her troubles are in the past, but they are constantly remembered.
“Nothing in your life is ever going to be perfect, but when it’s close to it or if it’s going really well, you think of all those times where you didn’t think it was ever going to be good,” she said. “It just kind of opens your eyes.”
Redshirt freshman Taylor Unroe went through a rough patch in her life after the death of her sister, Ashlee, in 2007. Now a libero for the Gators, Unroe still uses the memory of Ashlee as motivation to pursue her goals.
