Saturday mornings in Garden City begin with a hush. The sky opens slowly, streaks of orange and pink stretching across the wide Kansas horizon. Dew settles on the turf, glinting like glass in the early light and the air carries that unmistakable freshness that follows a late-summer rain cool, clean, and fleeting. It is the kind of air that loosens stiff muscles and quiets the restless mind.
On the edge of the football field, the stillness gives way to motion. Rolls of tape snap against restless hands, coolers slosh as they are set in place and the scent of disinfectant mingles with the sharp tang of spray adhesive. Towels are stacked, braces adjusted and stretches begin in slow, careful rhythm. It is not yet loud, no marching band, no crowd and no whistle to cut the air. But already, work is underway.
Athletic training is a craft built in these early hours, long before the scoreboard flickers to life. It lives in the details: the even wrap of tape around an ankle, the alignment of bottles on a bench, the quick eye that catches a stiff gait before it becomes an injury. It is quiet labor, often unseen, yet essential.
By the time the sun climbs high and the roar of the stands fills the air, the foundation has already been laid. For every player who takes the field, there is someone behind the scenes who has prepared their body to withstand it. The game may belong to the athletes, but the morning belongs to the trainers.
For Kadence Butteris, the path to athletic training was not something carefully mapped out. She admits that, at first, she had no real intention of stepping into the role. But life has a way of redirecting us when we least expect it.
“I just decided to give it a chance and once I did, I realized I was happy. I met new people and learned a lot of new things,” Butteris said.
Butteris, now in her fifth semester at Garden City Community College, has become a familiar presence within Broncbuster Athletics. Behind every taped ankle, every water break, every sideline adjustment, there’s her steady hand and quiet dedication. What began as a leap of faith quickly grew into a passion, one that has reshaped not only her education but her sense of self.
A key influence was trainer Alli Griffin, who encouraged her to give the program a try. That encouragement opened a door that would soon define her college experience.
Experience for Butteris has been everything. By the time the players lace their cleats and step into the sun, her work has already left its fingerprints on the field. Bottles stand ready on the sideline, rolls of tape lie tucked neatly in place and the faint sting of athletic spray lingers in the air. It is not glamour, not glory but the invisible framework that holds the day together.
Her heart belongs to football, a sport that demands constant attention from those who care for its players. Ankles roll; shoulders ache and collisions leave their mark. For a student trainer, it is a classroom unlike any other lessons written in real time on bodies in motion.
“Football is a sport with many injuries, so it’s nice to be very hands-on, which is how I’ve learned so much,” Butteris adds.
Those hectic moments come fast. A player crumples mid-scrimmage. Another jogs over, wincing, lifting his arm with the universal sign for “something’s wrong.” The adrenaline rises but she has learned to move through it with steady hands and sharper instincts. Pressure, she has discovered, is not a weight to be feared but a challenge to rise to.
Her proudest moment came the day she was asked to take the reins. Harley Beck, one of her mentors, told her it was her turn to cover athletic training duties for football. She hesitated, knowing the responsibility, the volume of athletes, the speed of decisions. But she said yes.
“I was hesitant because I knew it would be a lot,” she remembers, “but I wouldn’t change it for anything.”
On that field, in that rush, she felt herself grow not just as a student, but as a trainer trusted with the health of others. It was proof that her quiet preparation had led her to this very moment and she has carried the lessons forward ever since.
Every strong program has its anchors, the people who steady the ship when the waters turn rough. For Kadence Butteris, those anchors have been Nate and Harley. To most, they are instructors, but to her, they have been the ones who reshaped her confidence piece by piece.
When she speaks of them, her voice carries the weight of gratitude. They weren’t just there to correct her form with tape or show her how to set a sideline station; they were there to remind her, repeatedly, that she had what it takes. They taught her that adversity is not an obstacle but a test — one that can be met with steady hands and a calm heart.
“They’ve taught me to stay confident and stay positive throughout it all,” she says. “To battle through adversity.”
Those lessons came alive not in the quiet of the classroom but in the noise of the field, when dozens of athletes pulled her attention in every direction. The sideline is no place for hesitation, and yet there were days she felt doubt creep in. Could she handle the pace, the pressure, the responsibility?
This is where her second family stepped in the other student trainers who, like her, lived inside the long days of preparation and late nights of cleanup. They shared tape and tools, but more importantly, they shared belief. A nod from a peer before stepping onto the field. A quick joke in the lull between drills. A quiet “you’ve got this” whispered when the moment felt too big.
“My friends in the program really help me push through,” Butteris says. “We act as a constant support system for each other every day.”
In many ways, the training room became more than just a workspace. It became a sanctuary a place where she could laugh, vent and be reminded that she wasn’t carrying the weight alone. They were just students; they were a network of resilience, teaching her that growth doesn’t happen in isolation.
Looking back now, she sees the change clearly. The shy student who once tiptoed into the program unsure of her place has given way to someone who tapes ankles with assurance, steps forward when called upon and leads without flinching. That transformation wasn’t sudden, it was built slowly, through the voices of mentors who believed in her and the peers who refused to let her fall behind.
It is here, in this web of mentorship and friendship, that Kadence’s story deepens. Because the growth she carries is not only her own it is the reflection of those who poured into her, shaping her into someone who can now, in turn, mentor the next.
Impact is not always measured in wins or trophies. Sometimes it is measured in smaller, quieter ways in the way a student-athlete exhales when they walk into the training room, in the trust exchanged when an injury is met with care instead of fear.
For Kadence, that space has been her canvas. She hopes her biggest contribution has been simple: creating a place where athletes feel safe, where a smile and a bit of reassurance can ease the weight of their day.
“I would hope the biggest impact I’ve made is just putting a smile on people’s faces as they walk in the training room,” she says. “It’s like a safe place.”
Safe places are rare in the churn of junior college athletics. Seasons are short, rosters turn over quickly, and many athletes come to Garden City carrying both the pressure of performance and the uncertainty of what comes next. In that swirl of movement, Butteris has tried to be something constant, a steady presence in the background of their stories.
She does not measure her success by how many ankles she has taped or how many players she has helped return to the field. Instead, she finds meaning in the long arc: watching athletes she once helped send off to bigger colleges, thriving on larger stages. Each time she sees them succeed, she feels her own quiet pride swell.
“One thing that I love is seeing an athlete I helped go off to bigger colleges and seeing them do so well. It makes me proud of my work,” Butteris said.
It is easy to see how much she cares. When she talks about her role, it is never about being front and center but about what her work allows others to do. She wants athletes to describe her not as the one who fixed them but as the one who always tried her best, who stood in their corner, who helped put their best foot forward.
The impact she leaves is stitched into moments most fans will never see: the look of relief in an athlete’s eyes when pain eases, the laughter that fills the training room after a long day, the nods of gratitude that replace words when the whistle blows. These are the things that build culture, that weave a program together not just as a team but as a community.
In the end, her story at GCCC is not only about personal growth. It is about the countless athletes who will carry a piece of her with them — whether through the tape that steadied their ankle, the encouragement that steadied their heart, or the safe place that reminded them they were never alone.
When Kadence looks back on her time at Garden City Community College, the moments that rise to the surface aren’t marked by scoreboard numbers or headlines. They are quieter, more intimate snapshots: the first time Harley Beck trusted her to cover football on her own, the nights spent laughing with her fellow trainers after exhausting days, the pride of seeing an athlete she once helped make it to the next level.
“The most rewarding thing is being able to see athletes I’ve worked with have their dreams come true right in front of me,” Butteris mentions.
Those moments, layered together like brushstrokes on a canvas, are what keep her going. The days are long, the pressure is real, and the demands of balancing classes with athletic training would weigh heavily on anyone. But she has found strength in the bonds of her program.
“My other athletic training friends are what truly keep me going,” she explains. “We’re a big family.”
Family, faith, and persistence have carried her through doubt and difficulty. She admits there were times she questioned whether she was capable, but she learned to lean on others, to accept encouragement, and to remind herself of the heart she carries into her work. In her own words, one of the biggest discoveries she has made is “how caring my heart is.”
That heart is what she hopes people will remember. Not the hours she logged or the number of ankles she taped, but the way she showed up — positive, dependable, willing to give everything she had to help others succeed.
“I hope they remember I was always very positive and I always worked hard to help others,” she says.
Beyond Garden City, her future remains unwritten. She knows she wants to leave behind the small towns of southwest Kansas and step into bigger opportunities, though the exact direction is still forming. What she carries with her is less a blueprint than a foundation — the confidence Nate and Harley instilled in her, the resilience her peers helped her build, the work ethic hammered out in long seasons of sweat and sacrifice.
“GCCC has taught me a lot about myself,” she says. “I have learned a very tough work ethic through it all.”
Wherever she goes, she will bring with her the lessons born on these fields and in this training room: that confidence is learned, that adversity is survivable and that sometimes the greatest impact you can make is through the care you give others.
Her legacy at Garden City is already alive, carried forward not by her name on a roster but by the athletes who will remember her encouragement, her peers who will remember her laughter and the trainers who will follow her path with the courage to step into their own.
