On the windowsill of Elizabeth Brooks' corner office sits a tattered soccer ball, its surface cracked and colors faded by nearly three decades. Closer inspection reveals a collection of players' autographs and the inscription, "1997 SCIAC Champs."

To Cal Lutheran's interim athletic director, a title Brooks earned over the summer, the ball is more than a keepsake from her playing days. It's a reminder to live life like tomorrow may never come.

A coveted recruit from nearby Moorpark High School, Brooks — then Elizabeth Christensen — earned All-SCIAC honors her freshman year on a Regals team that won the program's seventh consecutive conference title. The speedy forward looked every bit the future college star.

Then her life came apart at the seams.

The weight of losing her mother suddenly two years earlier became too great to bear. Mary Christensen died a week shy of her daughter's 16th birthday, the victim of a rare genetic heart condition. 

Brooks, who would be diagnosed with the same condition years later, left Cal Lutheran in the spring of 1998 and didn't come back. She'd never play competitive soccer again. The following year, she enrolled at Arizona State University and began taking classes in education.

"I thought I was going to be a fourth-grade teacher," she said.

But God had other plans for Brooks, whose path to becoming the university's head of athletics is as unlikely as it is inspiring.

'Something I'll never forget'

Brooks enjoyed an idyllic childhood growing up in Moorpark, a tight-knit, sports-loving community nestled among citrus orchards at the base of the Santa Susana Mountains. Her father, Mike Christensen, was a Ventura County sheriff's detective; her mother, Mary, was the director of nursing at Westlake Hospital. An only child whose parents both worked irregular shifts, Brooks immersed herself in youth sports, playing softball, volleyball and soccer.

One of her high school club soccer coaches was Moorpark sports great Kellee Roesel, then fresh out of college.

"She was a pit bull," Roesel said of a teenage Brooks. "She really reminded me of (Chicago Bears Hall of Fame running back) Walter Payton. Someone would knock her down and she'd pop right back up. She was tough."

Whenever her daughter competed, Mary was on the sidelines, usually watching the action through her Nikon's telephoto lens.

"She brought that camera everywhere," Roesel said. "Elizabeth was like every other teenager — she was so embarrassed that her mom would take pictures all the time. I remember saying to her, 'One day, you're going to be glad to have all those photos.'"

Today, her mothers' pictures are some of her most treasured possessions. 

In February 1995, Brooks returned home from a celebratory meal with teammates after a playoff victory to find fire trucks, patrol cars and ambulances lining her quiet residential street. Through the front door, she saw paramedics performing CPR on a figure on the floor. It was Mary. 

"It's just something I'll never forget," Brooks said. "Everybody tries to distract you from it, move you along so you don't have to see it, but unfortunately, I did see a lot."

Mary was only 41. An autopsy revealed tell-tale signs of hypertrophic obstructive cardiomyopathy, or HCM. Even though she worked at a hospital, the genetic heart condition had gone undiagnosed for years. 

"It was very sudden … I didn't get to say goodbye," Brooks said. "I lost my best friend, my rock."

Over 1,000 people attended Mary's funeral at Moorpark's Holy Cross Church, a testament to her standing in the community. Roesel was among them.

"Mary was a light … she was a go-getter," she said. "I mean, Elizabeth is very similar to her mom. Not only does she look like her, but she's got a motor like her, and a heart like her." 

In the wake of Mary's passing, the Moorpark community rallied around Brooks and her father. It helped, up to a point. 

"When you lose your mom at 15, your whole world just implodes," Brooks said. "You're an only child, and overnight you go from being a kid playing sports to having to figure out how to navigate life without the person who was your everything. It completely changes your perspective on life, on family, on time. You realize very quickly that nothing is promised."

Living with a broken heart

When graduation arrived at ASU in 2002, Brooks had lost the desire to teach. Drawing on a handful of criminal justice classes she'd taken, her father pointed her toward loss prevention and risk management. Detective work ran in the family, after all.

Brooks entered Target's 12-week leadership and development training program, a decision that launched a nearly two-decade career in corporate retail. After Target, she made stops at Abercrombie & Fitch, Harbor Freight Tools and Cotton On, helping the companies manage risk, operations, human resources and budget.

At the peak of her corporate climb, Brooks served as Cotton On's head of risk and compliance for North America and Brazil, responsible for hundreds of stores and thousands of employees. Meanwhile, she fell in love, got married and started a family. 

Then her own health crisis struck, one frighteningly similar to Mary's.  

In 2015, Brooks' husband, Derek, found her on the floor of their home in Camarillo, California. She'd suffered a near-fatal episode of ventricular tachycardia, an abnormal heart rhythm that can cause a person to pass out, or worse. Following emergency surgery to implant a pacemaker and defibrillator, her husband urged her to step away from the corporate grind.

Acting on his advice, Brooks took a two-year sabbatical to heal, reflect and be present with her young family. During that time, she discovered what she considers her true calling: helping others navigate the unique trauma of losing a loved one.

Roesel — by then the head coach of Cal Lutheran women's volleyball for two decades — lost the love of her life in December 2017. Her husband, Andy, drowned in a tragic accident while the family was on vacation in Hawaii with their 8-year-old daughter. 

With her heart shattered into a million pieces, Roesel didn't want to leave the house. Then came the text message she credits with saving her life. It was from Elizabeth. 

"I want to come over. I want to help you," it read. 

Elizabeth arrived and cut through the steady stream of colleagues, coaches and athletes who were visiting to offer condolences. She had a different plan. 

"We went outside and Elizabeth gave me a journal and I think we spent the next 45 minutes talking about my grief," Roesel said. "I just remember her telling me that my daughter would be OK. … It was everything I needed to hear." 

Brooks suggested they meet the following week at a park near her home. 

"My DNA is all over that place," Roesel said. "I just remember being destroyed, but it felt good to get it all out. Elizabeth just walked and listened." 

That tear-filled stroll became a near-daily ritual. The pair met in the mornings after dropping their kids off at school, just before Roesel had to be in the office. While the setting rotated, the purpose remained constant. 

"I was just always so worried about wearing everyone out … and I knew that I didn't have to worry about that with her," Roesel said. "She didn't expect any of those things and just wanted to help."

In that setting, their roles reversed; the coach became the student. Drawing on a lifetime of experience, Brooks shared what she'd done to reach a place of acceptance around her mother's abrupt death. 

"When Kellee went through what she went through, it was like God put me in a place where all that pain I felt when I was 15 finally made sense," Brooks said. "Being able to walk with her, just listen, and help carry that weight — it healed a part of me, too. It showed me that nothing we go through is wasted if we use it to show up for somebody else."

"There's a language to sudden loss that you only know if you've lived it," she continued. "You don't need someone to give you platitudes or tell you it's going to be fine. You just need someone who isn't afraid to stand in the dark with you. Walking with Kellee reminded me why I survived what I survived — to be that person for her."

With Brooks' help, Roesel slowly resumed her coaching responsibilities. The pain was still there, only now she knew how to channel it. Seeing her friend happy gave Brooks the itch to rejoin the workforce. So she dusted off the resume and hit the job boards. 

One day an opportunity came across from an unexpected place: Cal Lutheran University.

From administrative assistant to AD

With nothing left to prove in the corporate world, Brooks leapt at the chance to work close to home in a familiar environment surrounded by familiar faces. In 2019, she accepted a role as administrative assistant to then-athletic director Dan Kuntz. 

The single constant since her arrival has been change. Brooks has worked under four athletic directors in seven years, through it all faithfully serving her primary constituents: student-athletes and coaches.

"This place has been in complete chaos for, I don't know, for a long time," Roesel said. "And she's been the one, just like she was in my grief. And I'm sure most coaches and staff will say that. She's the one constant."

A bit of that chaos ensued this summer when former athletic director Howard Davis announced he was retiring. With no time to launch a proper search, President John Nunes turned to Brooks, who received Davis' unequivocal endorsement.  

"Howard was so supportive. He basically told me, 'You know how this place runs, you know these coaches, and you're ready for this,'" Brooks recalled. 

Brooks didn't campaign for the title out of personal ambition; rather she viewed it as answering a call of service for a department she views as family.

"I didn't ask for the spotlight, but when leadership came and asked if I would step up, I couldn't say no to these coaches and our student-athletes," she said. 

Laureen Hill, Cal Lutheran's new chief strategy and growth officer, immediately recognized Brooks' potential. 

"When I first started working with Elizabeth on several matters related to staffing and budgeting, I was immediately impressed with her depth of knowledge, her clear commitment to athletics and CLU, and her honest, direct style," Hill said. "It was evident she had earned the respect and trust of the entire department. So when President Nunes was looking to identify an interim AD this summer, I knew Elizabeth was exactly the leader we needed in this moment."

While Brooks' tenure at the helm is still being decided, she's determined to make the most of it. She takes over at a critical point in the university's history. In a time of budget cuts and belt tightening, she's tasked with preserving one of Cal Lutheran's strongest pillars: athletic excellence. 

"My mindset is to wake up like every day is your last. So I'm going to come in, I'm going to give it my all, no matter what position I'm in — if I'm in an interim, if I'm an admin. I believe that what you make of it is what it will become, and I plan to make it become something good."