This story was originally published on May 5, 2022. It was included in a year-end list of SI’s best stories of 2022.

On the same July day that AD, formerly known as Asia Durr, announced their intention to sit out the 2020 WNBA season, they were admitted to the Emory at Saint Joseph’s Primary Care clinic in Atlanta. (Sports Illustrated is publishing AD’s birth name once, with their consent, for clarity.) The No. 2 pick in the ’19 draft, AD had been spitting up blood and vomiting. They later learned they contracted bronchitis.

A month earlier, AD had tested positive for COVID-19. Initially, they didn’t want to believe they contracted the coronavirus. They assumed that after a 14-day quarantine, life would return to normal, and that, like the rest of their Liberty teammates, they would spend the summer at Florida’s IMG Academy, the site of the league’s bubble season. By the end of June, though, they were still COVID-19 positive and feeling its effects. “I didn’t know it would turn into two years of being sick,” AD says. “I really thought I’d be good after two weeks. But I had no idea what was about to take place.”

What transpired in the nearly 24 months since has changed their life in nearly every way. Physically, AD dealt with “stabbing” lung pain and brain fog, nausea and dizziness. They suffered from long-haul COVID-19, experiencing heart palpitations, shortness of breath, chills, sweats, stomach and gut issues, body aches and headaches. In the first month after contracting the virus, they lost 32 pounds. They were put into a “really dark place for quite some time,” they say.

AD feared they might be added to the virus’s death count. Over the next two years, they’d have that thought five or six times. “I was literally suffering every day. I felt I was dying,” AD says. Their older sister, Genesis Durr, adds, “Just to see the way COVID grabbed a hold of AD and [would] not let go, it was very heartbreaking.”

But as AD’s life was stripped down to its core, and then slowly built back up, the Liberty guard also reflected on themself. For starters, they now go by AD. They do not use the terms nonbinary or transgender in relation to themself. “I don’t put a title on myself,” they say. “I just view myself as AD.” But they now use they/them pronouns, and he/him with some of their closest male friends. They are believed to be the second current WNBA player to publicly use pronouns other than just she/her—free agent Layshia Clarendon being the other.

There were moments over the last two years when AD wanted to touch a basketball but couldn’t. They didn’t have the strength. At times, they were unable to even watch games, due to brain fog taking hold. They learned to live without the sport they have been playing since age 3.

On Saturday, though, the Liberty guard will make their long-awaited return to the WNBA when New York faces off against Connecticut in the team’s regular-season opener. Their comeback has been far from seamless, and they still experience daylong flare-ups, during which they feel like they have COVID-19 again, complete with symptoms like lung pain, body aches and shortness of breath. But while they prepare to reembark on their professional basketball career, they do so more comfortably “living in my truth.”

One of the ways AD has become so is through tattoos. They got their first one in March 2020 and now have a full sleeve on their right arm. The sprawling black-and-white illustrations—which they say “speak on my battles and challenges that I’ve gone through”—reference different quotes and biblical verses AD has leaned on. One around their bicep reads, in cursive, “Time Heals all Wounds.”

When they were in the fourth grade in Douglasville, Ga., one of their AAU coaches started calling them “AD.” “That just literally made me feel like I was so smooth,” they say. At the time, they felt it described their game perfectly. It was predicated on creative pick-and-roll play and a multitude of finishing moves around the basket. As a senior in high school, AD was the No. 2 prospect in the espnW HoopGurlz rankings for the class of 2015.

At Louisville, they averaged at least 18.7 points in their sophomore through senior seasons. Three times they were named first-team All-ACC. They were also named the Dawn Staley Award winner (given to the country’s top guard) in 2019, their senior year, and a first-team All-American. That season, AD also led the Cardinals to what was then the third Final Four in program history. Then, in 18 games during their debut WNBA campaign, AD became a regular starter and was also the Liberty’s third-leading scorer. But the March after their rookie year, the pandemic started, and then their career was halted.

All that they could do on a basketball court—and everything it meant to them—vanished. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention defines post-COVID-19 conditions as a wide range of new, returning or ongoing symptoms that people may experience four or more weeks after first being infected with the virus. The conditions are also known as long COVID-19 or long-haul COVID-19.

Estimates of the number of long-haulers vary. Potentially 23 million Americans have been impacted and more than 100 million people worldwide. But as Dr. Alexander D. Truong, an assistant professor of medicine in the Emory University division of pulmonary, allergy, critical care and sleep medicine, says, “What we fail at right now is having a magic lab test or having some sort of exam that says, ‘Aha! This is specifically post-COVID.’”

Truong, one of the 15 or so doctors who treated AD over the last two years, works at a post-COVID-19 clinic at Emory’s Executive Park campus. Beyond physical ailments, he notes a large number of his long-haul patients are also reporting new or worsening anxiety and depression—“a lot of which,” he says, “is related to the frustration of not getting better.” That resonated with AD.

“It was very traumatizing mentally, physically,” they say.

When Tyrek Sanders, a close friend of AD’s and a practice player for the Liberty, would reach out to them, he says he often tried to “make sure the mindset wasn’t getting as beat up as much as the body was.” Terry Durr Sr., AD’s father, says he would check in almost daily, but there were times he too felt “hopeless and helpless” by their condition failing to improve. Their mother, Audrey Durr, and sister Genesis would text, not call, to preserve AD’s strength. Audrey also says that while she would provide positive affirmations to AD, “Deep down I was falling apart.”

The hardwood had always been a place that helped AD cope with problems they were facing. “Me and basketball,” they say, “just clicked.” While sick, they remained in close contact with Liberty staff, who connected AD with top doctors in New York City and provided other resources. But they were unable to use the sport as an escape. “That’s what kinda got me stuck. Just not knowing what to do,” they say.

As Genesis puts it, “There were a lot of times where I thought AD’s career was over, [that] they’ll never be able to do anything physical again.”

“Of course I want[ed] to play,” AD adds. “But I started seeing the amount of stress, sickness that was put on my body and I started thinking, Damn, what if this is it?”

Left to confront life without basketball, AD had ample opportunity to think about who they were and who they wanted to be. “I never had the time to sit down and figure out self,” they say. “So I feel like this was God’s way of sitting me down and saying these things need to be addressed.”

Since last September, they have been virtually meeting every week with an Atlanta-based therapist, Sherri Simpson Broadwater. Through their hourlong sessions, as AD wrote in a January email to their sponsors and partners about their new name, they began to “unpack many years of trauma over feeling misgendered with she/her pronouns.”

“I realized I was trying to hide who I was to make other people happy,” AD says. “As I did the work, I realized it’s O.K. to be who you want to be and who you are. It’s O.K. if some people don’t like it. … Because it feels good to be who I truly am.”

Says Broadwater: “Therapy helped AD feel comfortable walking in that light.”

Finding joy has been imperative. And throughout the worst of the symptoms they sought out small, daily boosts that would lift their spirits. Taylor Johnson, AD’s fiancé, says, “Our happiness came with watermelon,” the fruit being one of the two foods—crackers being the other—AD could stomach when their gut issues were at their worst.

Despite eating restrictions, AD occasionally grilled for Taylor, Audrey, and their grandparents, who live nearby in the Atlanta area and showed frequent support. AD would use their hoverboard to take out their dogs—Max, a 3-year-old Morkie, and Fendi, an 8-year Maltese Shih Tzu—to escape the confines of their home but not put much stress on their body.

From last February to this past November, AD and Taylor became enamored with the Netflix movie The Wrong Missy, estimating they watched the rom-com at least 1,000 times, and at all hours of the day, to lighten the mood. AD played NBA 2K and learned the basics of how to video edit. They also practiced breathing exercises to relieve their anxiety. “The littlest wins were so big,” says Lindsay Kagawa Colas, their agent at Wasserman.

Unlike when rehabbing a traditional injury, AD’s experience with post-COVID-19 lacked a linear rehabilitation. Sanders remembers one instance last June when he FaceTimed AD on a rainy day and could see their fatigue, anger and disappointment. Days later, when the two chatted, he sensed they were energized and hyped up. “Every day was different,” Genesis says. “Just fighting to feel some type of normalcy.”

AD wasn’t physically capable of playing in the 2021 campaign. Still, the reality of missing a second season was difficult for some around them. Terry says he wasn’t shocked when AD sat out the ’20 season, but when his child was ruled out of the following year, “that one hit me the hardest.”

In September, when they were feeling a little better, doctors told AD that to get back to their old self they should start doing light physical work. Initially it took the form of performing dumbbell rolls and biceps curls in a five-minute period. Through beginning to tackle some activity, using an inhaler daily and taking three medications to treat symptoms like nausea, vomiting and anxiety, they continued to improve.

“I encouraged [them] to do just a little more,” Audrey says. “If you take 10 steps today, take 12 tomorrow.”

When Sanders walked into AD’s Brooklyn apartment on Nov. 16, he didn’t know what to expect. He had not seen AD since before the pandemic started and was excited to dap them up in person. It was then that AD told Sanders they had been cleared to resume basketball activities. Earlier that day, they learned a series of tests showed no damage to their heart. “I was like, ‘We did it. We did it,’” he says. That evening, AD publicized the news on Instagram Live, the volume of their voice rising as the announcement continued. Sanders, Johnson and Khuvon Daniel, another of AD’s close friends and a practice player for the Liberty, watched as they spoke, basking in the euphoria of the moment.

The following Sunday, Genesis attended the Destiny World Church in Austale, Ga., where both she and AD had been going since they were children. While there, Genesis stood up in front of the congregation and gave a testimony on behalf of her sibling. Audrey, who was in attendance alongside her daughter, remembers congregants breaking out in a “thunderous eruption of clapping” and standing to support Genesis as she spoke.

“To see where AD came from after testing positive in June 2020 to finally being cleared to play basketball and do something they love again,” Genesis says, “it’s nothing short of a miracle.”

Weeks later, AD found themselves face-to-face with their father at the college graduation of their older brother, Christian. While in a previous phone conversation they had told Terry of their desire to go by AD, they revisited the topic on the evening of Christian’s ceremony, waiting in the parking lot ahead of a family dinner.

“How much of you are you willing to give up for me?” AD asked him.

“My whole life,” they recall him responding.

“I felt emotional,” AD says. “Just to hear that he loves me for me, no matter who I want to be or who I am.”

AD recognizes that some in the general public may not feel the same way. But being open about who they are is one of the things they are most proud of.

“It feels like I’m starting over,” AD says. “Everything with my life definitely feels so different now.”

Their body, though, still provides harsh reminders of what they have been through. On the day after they were cleared to resume basketball activities, they shot around at St. Joseph’s University’s Brooklyn-based campus in front of their fiancé and a few members of the Liberty brass.

While there, taking the court for the first time in more than a year, they felt a shortness of breath even though they didn’t break a sweat. That night, they had a particularly bad flare-up.

AD received their first dose of the Pfizer COVID-19 vaccine in early January 2022. But it was three weeks later, after getting their second, they say they experienced a “setback” that “really knocked me off my feet.” Out of concern for another adverse reaction, they are currently not planning on getting a booster. (Truong says the current data shows that COVID-19 vaccines help decrease the risk of getting long COVID-19. A recent Yale School of Medicine study has cited as many 30% to 40% of long-haulers who have received the vaccine and reported improvements to their symptoms.)

Looking to avoid possible pitfalls, AD was also careful not to push themself when they resumed conditioning and light basketball work in mid-December, and again when they more fully dived into basketball workouts at the start of the new year.

“If I do something different that’s unfamiliar to my body, I’ll have a flare-up,” they say.

As Chris Palmer, the founder of Pure Performance Basketball and an Atlanta-based skills coach who has been training AD since early January, helped them with their ballhandling and shooting, the two focused on trying to help AD regain their touch and rhythm. They started with stationary work before evolving into hesitation and pick-and-roll drills, among other skills. One day in mid-February, Palmer says AD knocked down 28 consecutive NBA-range three-pointers.

“That really made me believe that this is going to happen,” Palmer says.

Tears started to swell up as AD walked into Barclays Center for the start of Liberty training camp this April. When they plopped down in their locker room chair for the first time and saw a drawer with practice gear, they started to cry once again. “It’s literally an amazing blessing just to be back here in these streets,” says Johnson, their fiancé.

Nowadays, the makeup of the Liberty is almost entirely different. Only two players, center Han Xu (through translator Cindy Chen, Han described her friendship with AD as “precious”) and guard Rebecca Allen played with AD on the 2019 team. AD has had to adjust to regular five-on-five action, and they admit they’re trying to retrain their brain to react quicker to what’s occurring on the floor.

Some days, they say, how much they are able to push themselves varies, a result of dealing with long COVID-19 symptoms. “I have to be realistic and realize I’m coming off a severe sickness,” AD says.

Questions about how their body will respond to game action make their exact role hard to pin down. Despite being a starter in their debut campaign, they’re likely to play more of a bench role, at least to open the season, both due to their absence and the team’s backcourt depth.

First-year Liberty coach Sandy Brondello says she’s been impressed with the way AD has gotten their body ready for the season, but she too recognizes the magnitude of their comeback. AD is a “sponge,” Brondello says, noting that there are a lot of similarities between them and Skylar Diggins-Smith, a similarly sized left-handed playmaker and five-time All-Star whom Brondello coached in Phoenix. “[AD is] really good with the ball in [their] hand,” she says. “Great going downhill, has a midrange, is improving in their outside shot as well.”

Asked of their individual on-court goals for the season, AD takes a measured approach: “I do understand that this is still a process. Just being out there, just being available for my teammates to play, that’s success to me.”

As Liberty forward Kylee Shook, who played alongside AD at Louisville, says, “To come out after almost two years of not doing anything, [they’re] doing great.” (The team said Shook is sitting out this season due to personal reasons.)

Engaging with a big group of people at one time is something they seldom did over the last 24 months, so part of their reacclimation has also been social. In the locker room following the third day of training camp, AD voiced feelings of gratitude to their teammates and told them how appreciative they were of their support. “It’s so genuine,” they say. That night they experienced a flare-up. Such are the challenges of their new life. But it’s one they are finally living as themself.

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