Living the Game Backwards: The Reinvention of Rida Erlalelitepe

KAMLOOPS - Rida Erlalelitepe arrives early to the court, rolling out nets and preparing for practice while the gym is still quiet. Her teammates trickle in behind her, but she moves with the calm focus of someone who has already lived the highs and lows of professional sport. She has been a paid teenager in arenas where every serve and block counted, a contracted player who "breathed volleyball, dreamed volleyball, puked volleyball." Yet here she is, smiling through drills, laughing when the ball bounces off her arm, and swearing in Turkish when she misses.

At 29, she is playing for something entirely different.

From Izmir to Kamloops

Rida was born into sport. Her mother played professional volleyball and her father played basketball. The court was home. In Turkey, volleyball is not a pastime; it is a profession that consumes everything. "When playing is an occupation, it's not fun anymore," she says. "You don't have weekends, you don't have time off. You go to sleep thinking about volleyball and wake up thinking about volleyball."

Her talent earned her a spot with one of Turkey's top clubs. The Turkish Volleyball Federation's youth programs are intense, with long hours of training, constant scouting, and national tournaments shaping careers before players finish high school. By her mid-twenties, Rida had achieved what many dream of, but she was ready to step away. "I was done," she admits. "I wanted to study. I wanted a life."

The Leap

Her plan was simple: move to Europe, get a master's degree, and leave volleyball behind. Then a message from a friend, fellow Turkish player Ezgi Dilik coaching at TRU, changed her direction.

"She asked if I'd ever thought about Canada," Rida recalls. "I hadn't. But I thought, why not?"

A few months later, she arrived in Kamloops, B.C., trading professional arenas for classrooms and a college gym. What she found was not just a new country, but a new way to exist in sport.

Rediscovering the Game

In Canada, volleyball felt structured but free. For Rida, that freedom meant everything. She smiled through drills, laughed when the ball bounced off her arm, and muttered Turkish swear words when she missed. Her rock music blasted during warmups and sometimes she sang along. Between points she joked with teammates, but once practice started, her intensity returned. She demanded a lot, mostly from herself.

"Rida sacrifices a lot for her teammates," says TRU player Lucy Millam. "She's honest and protective, the kind of person who would drop everything to help you. On the court she's calm but intense. She's made me a better player and given me a new perspective on volleyball and life."

That mix of warmth and competitiveness makes Rida a quiet leader. She does not chase attention. She just shows up every day, ready to make those around her better.

What She Left Behind

Life in Kamloops showed Rida how different things could be. "People here don't understand how easy life is," she says. "In Turkey, it's survival. You have to fight for everything. Here, you can actually live."

Growing up, most of what she owned came secondhand. She started getting paid to play volleyball at 14, helping her family. Now she funds her education with savings from more than a decade of professional play. "I came here to create a new future. That was my decision. I just sucked it up and moved on," she says.
 

Living the Game Backwards

To Rida, "living the game backwards" means building the life she wants, steady, happy, and balanced. She is studying psychology and hopes to work in education or mental health. "Volleyball gave me discipline," she says, "but learning gives me peace."

Her story is not about medals. It is about finding joy after burnout and remembering why she fell in love with the game. In the gym she laughs, lifts, swears, and pushes through, and it is easy to forget how much she has already lived in volleyball. Maybe that is the point. 

For Rida Erlalelitepe, the game never ended. It simply began again.