Introduction

Brooke is a centre back for Reading FC, having previously played for West Ham United. She’s also American, which gave us a fascinating opportunity to compare sporting cultures and attitudes toward neurodivergence in the US and the UK. But most importantly, Brooke is a brilliant example of how neurodivergent athletes—specifically those with ADHD—can succeed when supported early and appropriately.

Diagnosed at 15 but understood from much earlier, Brooke’s experience highlights how powerful the right interventions, support systems, and attitudes can be in building confidence, independence, and high performance. Her honesty, humour, and warmth shine throughout our conversation, and I’m thrilled to share her story with you here.

From Ballet Dropout to Football Defender

“I was bouncing off the walls,” Brooke says, describing her early childhood. “My mom had just had another child, so I was four, my sister was one, and I was just trying to do everything all the time.”

In a bid to find a productive outlet for her energy, Brooke’s parents tried ballet first.

“I was perfect during rehearsals. But then came the recital... and I just stood on stage, tapping my baton, refusing to move. So, ballet was a no.”

The solution? Football.

“They were like, what’s going to expend the most energy in the shortest amount of time?”

Her parents enrolled her in the local soccer league, and from the first kick, she was hooked.

“The game didn’t have structure at that age. You just chased the ball. That was perfect for me.”

Early Signs, Late Diagnosis

Brooke’s mom, a teacher with years of experience working with children with learning differences, was quick to pick up on her daughter’s signs of ADHD.

“She knew,” Brooke says, “but I didn’t get diagnosed until I was 15.”

Despite the late diagnosis, Brooke’s mom was proactive.

“She gave me tools from a young age—checklists, routines, tasks to stay focused. I’d forget my shoes, forget projects, you name it. But she didn’t shame me—she supported me.”

This idea—of enabling rather than labelling—comes up again and again.

“I had the help I needed long before I had the official paperwork. The diagnosis just helped get extra time in exams. But the important stuff? That came way before.”

Sport as Sanctuary

“Sport gave me confidence when everything else made me feel weird,” Brooke explains.

Her ADHD meant social interactions could be tricky, especially in structured environments like school.

“People just said I was shy. Later they said I had social anxiety. But really, I just didn’t connect the same way others did.”

Sport changed that.

“In football, we all had something in common. I didn’t have to be the best at small talk. We had a shared goal. I could run, I could play, and that was enough.”

When Structure Becomes a Struggle

As Brooke progressed in her football career, things changed.

“Early on, it was just play. But as it got more professional—more structured—it got harder.”

Coaches began introducing patterns, tactics, whiteboard briefings. And this is where her ADHD traits became more challenging.

“When the coach explains something once, and everyone else just... gets it. And I don’t. It’s not that I’m not smart—I just don’t process it like that. I need to see it. I need someone to show me.”

One of the standout moments in our conversation was her honesty about how instructions feel to her:

“I hear the words, but they don’t go together. They don’t mean anything. It’s just noise.”

It’s a powerful reminder that neurodivergence isn’t about a lack of ability, but a difference in the way we take in and respond to information.

The Power of Teammates

Brooke hasn’t told her coaches about her ADHD.

“I still worry they’ll think I need babying. Or that they’ll make assumptions.”

But she has told a few of her teammates—and it’s made all the difference.

“My teammate Becky will slow things down for me, point where I need to go, repeat things calmly. That’s all I need. Just a few more seconds, and I’m good.”

This kind of practical peer support—small, thoughtful, informal—is what inclusive environments look like in real life. It doesn’t take much, but it makes a massive difference.

The ADHD Advantage

So, what are her ADHD super strengths?

“I think differently,” she says. “Sometimes I don’t remember what was said, so I find my own way. And sometimes, it works really well. I see things others might not.”

She’s learned to adapt, to problem-solve, to approach situations from unusual angles—all of which make her a creative and strategic player on the pitch.

“I’ve had to build my own toolkit. And it works.”

Fear of Disclosure: A Common Barrier

Despite her success and support system, Brooke still hasn’t disclosed to her professional coaches.

Why?

“It’s a gamble. You don’t know how they’ll react. Will they think you’re difficult? Will they give you less game time?”

It’s a sentiment we hear again and again from neurodivergent athletes.

“I feel safer telling my teammates and managing things that way.”

It shouldn't be this way. Disclosure shouldn’t carry risk. But it often does.

The Role of Youth Coaches

Brooke believes youth coaches play a pivotal role in shaping the sporting futures of neurodivergent athletes.

“They’re the gatekeepers. With the right training, they could open doors for kids who learn and behave differently—kids like me.”

She’s clear:

“I was lucky. My mom was a teacher. She knew what to do. But not everyone has that. If coaches had more awareness, more education—if they knew how to spot the signs and how to support—that could change everything.”

Culture Shift: One Coach at a Time

Brooke’s story highlights that sport is still catching up. Tradition runs deep.

“Some coaches say, we’ve always done it this way. It works. Why change?”

But the landscape is shifting.

“Younger players are growing up in environments where individuality is more accepted. They’re not just going to roll over and comply anymore. Coaches need to keep up.”

Her message is clear:

“There’s more than one way to learn. More than one way to coach. More than one way to win.”

Final Thoughts

Brooke finished our interview with a quiet but powerful message:

“It’s okay to be neurodivergent. It’s okay to be different. I spent too long thinking I was weird. But now, I see it’s a strength. And I want other kids to know that too.”

Let’s build environments where every athlete—no matter how they learn, communicate, or think—feels safe, supported, and seen. Sport can be a sanctuary, a space for growth and identity. But only if we choose to make it so.

Find Brooke on Instagram @brookehendrix_.

Key Takeaways for Neurodivergent Individuals

Your brain works differently, not worse
→ Your brain is different, not less. You may just take a different route.
Self-awareness is power
→ Self-awareness helps you adapt and speak up.
You're not alone
→ Many share your struggles. Finding community can change everything.

Key Takeaways for Peers, Supporters, and Parents

Small adaptations make a big difference
→ For example, the quiet support of teammates.
Lead with empathy
→ Assume competence, show patience, and don’t judge what you don’t understand.
Celebrate difference
→ Neurodivergent teammates often bring unique strengths, perspectives, and creativity..

Key Takeaways for Coaches, Leaders, and Organisations

Enable, don’t label
→ Great coaches create space for athletes to thrive by understanding their needs.
Trust is the foundation of disclosure
→ Athletes won't open up if they fear judgement or exclusion.
Inclusive coaching is better coaching
→ Adaptable coaches unlock the strengths of every player.

Originally a recorded interview, this blog post was written by Caragh McMurtry. Subheadings were added by the Neurodiverse Sport team to support readability.

Brooke Hendrix: Building a Toolkit for Life, and Football