POCATELLO, Idaho - Fall Camp 2025. Two minutes were left on the clock. Two days stood between
Troy Wilkey and his first snap of the season.
It was the last period of practice before Idaho State hit the road for the season opener against UNLV, a red zone rep, tempo turned up, everyone still on their feet. Wilkey was locked on the No. 2 receiver, matched man to man. The receiver broke on a slant. The throw trailed behind him. Wilkey adjusted and made a play on the receiver.
That's when a teammate, diving for the same football and believing he had more room than he did, completely accidentally went through Wilkey's knee instead.
"There was nothing there after that," Wilkey said.
The diagnosis came fast and ugly: a torn ACL, a torn LCL, and a torn IT band. Not a single ligament. Nearly the whole knee.
It was the kind of injury that ends seasons, and Wilkey knew it the moment it happened. But to understand what that moment took from him, and what it would take to get it back, it helps to understand how he got to that practice in the first place.
Wilkey grew up in Boise, Idaho, the son of a father who wasn't a football player himself but was a devoted fan, and a die-hard Pittsburgh Steelers household. That passion became Wilkey's own. He worked his way up through flag football, then tackle at the youth and high school level at Rocky Mountain High School, where his coaches left a lasting mark on him.
He didn't start his college career at safety, or even on defense. After beginning at Boise State, where he played almost exclusively on special teams and picked up a handful of carries on the Bronco offense. Â Wilkey entered the transfer portal, expecting a quicker landing spot than he got.
"Maybe my mindset was thinking I had a little bit more tape than I really thought I did," he said.
A month into the portal, Idaho State coaches changed that. They found him at a wedding, drove to his house, and made their case in person. Wilkey committed to Idaho State that day, and to defense, the side of the ball he'd grown up on and always felt he belonged.
When his injury happened, Wilkey's parents were already on the road when he called them. They were driving down to celebrate his birthday with him: dinner that night, nothing fancy, just family.
Wilkey turned 21 the day after his knee injury. His mother calls it his golden birthday, born on the 21st, turning 21. It was supposed to be a marker. Instead, it became the backdrop for the worst night of his football career.
There wasn't a version of that phone call where his parents hesitated.
"The first thing they told me is, 'We got you,'" Wilkey said. "There wasn't really a doubt in that."
His siblings were there too, in the same way they'd always been. So was
Jackson Daniels, a teammate who'd gone through his own knee injury and knew exactly what Wilkey was about to walk through. Daniels looked out for him, Wilkey said, "in more ways than I can ask."
None of it undid the injury. But it meant Wilkey wasn't carrying it alone: not that night, and not in the months that followed.
Wilkey doesn't dress up what he felt in the hours after the injury.
"Selfishly, I think I asked why. Why me?" he said. "I was, in all honesty, a little bit scared."
He's candid, too, about where that fear came from: not the injury itself, but the instinct to face it alone. "I think that's because I didn't lean on the things that have always been there for me," he said.
That instinct isn't unique to him. Research on athletic injury recovery points to a familiar set of psychological hurdles that show up regardless of sport or position: fear of re-injury, loss of confidence, frustration, and, perhaps most disorienting for a college athlete, a loss of identity that can come from being pulled away from the sport that's shaped their life. A 2026 University of Utah Health report on injury recovery found that among male student-athletes, roughly 17% report feeling "constantly overwhelmed." That number climbs when injury is added to the equation.
Dr. Bridger Battaglia, a sports psychiatrist at University of Utah Health and a former Division I football player himself, has said the instinct to rush back before an athlete is mentally ready doesn't just risk another injury. It can set recovery back further. The healthier question, he says, isn't how fast an athlete can return, but how stable they'll be once they do.
Defensive coordinator
Grant Duff has watched that dynamic play out from the sideline for years, and he doesn't separate the physical from the mental when he talks about it.
"Injuries and mental health go hand in hand," Duff said. "Depression and anxiety raise their ugly heads while your mind goes through the trauma and struggles that accompany the physical injury."
Duff is careful not to romanticize what Wilkey went through. Those conditions, he said, "are not wished upon anyone." But he's also seen what can come out the other side of that struggle, if the work is put in.
"There are opportunities in the struggle to become more mentally strong because of the effort, work, and perseverance put in by the injured," Duff said. "I know Troy is a more proud and confident person and player because of how he worked in his rehab. He has earned that right through blood, sweat and tears."
Wilkey's answer to his own "why" wasn't to search for a way out of the feeling. It was to reframe the question entirely: from why is this happening to me, to what can I learn from this.
"Why is God putting me in this position?" he said. "I mean, it definitely was a rough start. But as time went on, I think it got a little bit better."
A day after surgery, Wilkey was back at UNLV, dressed for warmups, watching from the bench.
"I almost just felt empty-minded," he said. "I couldn't really collect myself, 'cause there was so much going on."
He'd never lost a game in that stadium in his college career. He wasn't going to play in this one, or any other that season. When the national anthem played, it caught him off guard.
"[The Anthem] got me," he said. "It messed with me a little bit."
Before the injury, Wilkey wasn't just working his way onto the field: he was in position to start. Safeties coach
Bobby Jay said Wilkey was in the middle of a strong fall camp, actively competing for a starting job, when the injury happened just days before Idaho State's opener.
"Troy was having a really good camp and was competing to be a starter last fall for us before his injury just a few days before our first game," Jay said. "He has done a tremendous job responding from a tough injury."
Mental toughness isn't just a phrase in Idaho State's safety room: it's one of the program's core pillars, and how a player responds when things go wrong is something the group talks about constantly, Jay said. Wilkey's response became something of a case study.
"You never saw him feeling sorry for himself during his recovery," Jay said. Instead, Wilkey found other ways to stay locked into the team: coaching up teammates in meetings, hyping guys up from the sideline on gamedays, and taking a lead role hosting recruits during the offseason.
That refusal to disappear from the program, even while sidelined, is exactly what Wilkey described from his own side: needing to hold himself to the same standard he'd ask of anyone else, even when he wasn't the one making plays on Saturdays.
The work has carried into this offseason. Jay said Wilkey has been diligent in attacking his rehab, and it's already showing up in summer training: the speed and explosiveness that made him a camp standout in 2025 have returned.
"His mental outlook, work ethic and commitment to his recovery process has helped to put him into a position to be an impact player for us this fall," Jay said.
Duff has echoed that sentiment from his own vantage point on the staff.
"Injuries are a very unfortunate part of the great game of football," Duff said. "The injury Troy had to endure this past year has been a true struggle for him. He has endured it well and been an inspiration to myself and his teammates."
That word, inspiration, comes up often when the coaching staff talks about Wilkey's year. Not because he made the injury look easy. He didn't. But because of what he did with the parts of it he could control.
"He has maximized what he has been able to control," Duff said, "and I know he is better going forward because of the development he worked for even while injured."
Fall Camp 2026 will look different for
Troy Wilkey.
There's no red zone period to fear, no two minutes left on the clock carrying more weight than it should. Just a healthy knee, and a player who spent a year proving to himself, his coaches, and his teammates that he could handle whatever came after the worst two minutes of his football life.
Asked how he feels heading into this season, Wilkey doesn't reach for a careful answer.
"Incredible," he said. "I can't even put it into words. I can't wait. I feel like I've been waiting for so long, and there's a reason behind that."
The speed and explosiveness that made him a camp standout in 2025, the traits that had him competing for a starting job before his knee gave out, are back, according to his coaches. So is the version of Wilkey who never stopped showing up, even when showing up meant a meeting room or a training table instead of the field.
Wilkey's safeties room has grown considerably since last fall, more bodies, more competition, more youth. When he talks about what he wants out of the group heading into 2026, it sounds a lot like the standard he held himself to during his own year away.
"Just playing the position, being relentless and having an infinite motor," he said. "A lot of energy too. We get a view of the field that a lot of people don't get. We need to share that with our defense, so just being vocal as well. But also just getting mature. We're pretty young in there, and everybody just has to grow into their own roles, on the field, off the field, all sorts of things like that."
It's not a coincidence that the growth he wants for his teammates mirrors his own. A year ago, growth wasn't optional for Wilkey. It was the only path back.
Â