Sharing Her Story

SportsMap's Seymour opens up about dealing with the aftermath of rape

SportsMap's Seymour opens up about dealing with the aftermath of rape
Holly Seymour does a lot of media work for SportsMap, GowMedia and her own web site, Hollyfootball.com. Courtesy photo

Editor's note: Holly Seymour is the talented host of Sports on The Rocks and a frequent contributor to Gow Media and SportsMap.  In this piece, she shares a story of being raped by an athlete and dealing with the aftermath.

That day was supposed to be perfect. V picked me up, we had the windows down and our music blaring. We were taking selfies and making snap videos on our way over the causeway. My fake boyfriend FaceTimed me when we got to the island to remind me to have a good time. I still remember him smiling and laughing at us joking on our way into the bar. We sat at our usual table outside to tan. We ordered our usual vodka waters and bitched about how annoyed we were that we forgot to bring the Adderal. The rest of our friends showed up a few hours later. We were having the best time just enjoying the sun, good music and lots of booze. 

I checked my social media and I had a random message from you. We never talk, players don’t associate with media outside of the facilities. You asked where I was and if you could join. I half drunk replied. I was so in the moment that I told you sure, not even realizing you were supposed to be on a flight to your game. I didn’t think you would really drive down from the city and come, nor did I care.

I kept partying and enjoying my friends. When you showed up, we had already been drinking for hours. I remember asking if you wanted a beer. You ordered a bucket. On my tab. How rude, right? I didn’t care though because I was countless vodkas in. I probably would have ordered the entire bar for anyone who asked. You didn’t stay long. You and your two friends asked what was next on our agenda. Drunk me suggested we all go back to my place and order pizza… and drink more, of course. I rode with you while V followed us. That was my first mistake, but who counts mistakes when you’re drunk living life? The rest of my friends wanted to finish their drinks and close tabs before they came back to my place. The pizza came. We all ate. 

Then you went into my room and called me from the living room. When I came in, you closed the door. I remember still being dazed and confused as to why you called me away from my company. You pushed me against the door and tried to kiss me. I turned my cheek and attempted to go back into the living room. V was alone with your friends and I didn’t care to be alone with YOU. But you didn’t let me. You sat me on my bed and tried to mess with me. I kept trying to leave. You forced yourself onto me. I told you to stop. I told you so many times. You kept telling me to be quiet. I kept trying to push you off of me and begged you AGAIN to stop. For the second time in my life i was scared of a man. But this was a different scared. This was forced. I wanted to fight back, all I had to do was scream but it’s like my body shut down. You continued to have your way with me. I remember tears coming down my cheeks and you just saying “shh, it’s OK.” But it wasn’t OK.

Those few minutes felt like a lifetime to me. I froze and everything else went blank. When you finished you had the audacity to use my restroom to clean up. I grabbed the closest piece of clothing on my floor that I could find. When we came out of my room your friends knew what happened, they could tell by my face. V was gone. You and your friends left. 

I sat on my floor alone crying and in shock. My other friends finally walked into my apartment thinking we were still all partying. I was now just naked on my bedroom floor curled up like a little girl scared and unable to talk. I managed to call my sister, I still don’t know how. B came to me first and she didn’t even have to ask me what was wrong. N called the police and R wrapped me in my robe. The officer that arrived was someone I knew from school. I was so embarrassed and so ashamed. I refused to tell her who did it. She gave me a case number and insisted I go to the hospital for testing and to file. I didn’t want to go. I still didn’t want to move. My friends made me. 

I thought the actual rape was the worst part. It wasn’t. The hospital gave me a handful of pills that immediately made me sick. I had to go into a private room where a social worker asked me questions and tried to take pictures of my body. I couldn’t do it. The whole time she was asking me questions I was staring at the hideous ceiling tiles covered with construction paper butterflies that kids had made. I suppose it was to help children who’d been molested feel like they were in a more happy place, that they were safe. But they weren’t. And neither was I. Nothing felt safe anymore. I walked out and refused to let the social worker perform the stupid rape kit or take her stupid pictures of my naked body. My body that had already been exposed a few hours earlier. My stomach was hurting, my head was pounding. I was dizzy and shaky from the stupid pills I had to eat to kill whatever may have been inside of me from you. 

I sat in the passenger seat while B drove us home that night. R held my hand from the back seat while I tried to cry as quietly as possible. I insisted I stay home alone. I’m a big girl, I can handle it. Besides, the humiliation was unbearable. I wanted to be alone. And for the next two days, I was. I didn’t move from my couch except to throw up or use the bathroom. A good friend of mine had been calling my phone since the day at the bar. He finally showed up at my apartment. When I let him in and went back to my couch without saying a word, he sat me up and made me talk. I said the bare minimum. He wanted to kill you. He told me if I ever told him your name he would make sure you never touch a woman again. 

Don’t worry, I wouldn’t say your name because you’re not worth it. It’s been a little over a year and you’re still not worth it. You will never be worth sh--. After taking a few games off from covering the team, I finally decided you’re not going to stop me from what I love. Covering sports. At first it was hard being back because no one knew. No one but you and I. Honestly, I felt disgusted every time I walked into that stadium. I felt dirty because of what you did to me, what you took from me. I hoped and prayed to God that you didn’t brag to the other guys and make it seem like I wanted you. I work hard for my reputation. I never wanted you. I never even had your f------ phone number. 

You’re probably wondering why I never told the police your name. All of my friends are. I did that for me, not for you. Don’t ever think I didn’t want you locked up or known as a rapist. I didn’t want MY name being out there. I didn’t want to be the helpless victim associated with you. Here comes my shame again. But I’m getting better now. And every time I walk past you or see you in the locker room, I look directly at you. Because I’m not afraid of you. I want you to know that what you’ve done to me, I will never forget. But in reality, you only made me stronger. Yeah, I still have nights where I have trouble sleeping, or moments during my day when I stop and have to refocus because something triggered that night. But I’m learning more about myself than I’ve ever known. Each day I get stronger and more aware of my surroundings. I would thank you, but an f--- you is more appropriate. 

I’m finally sharing this because I can. And I’m proud that over a year later, I can finally admit that this happened to me. I still blame myself but I’ll get over that too. This isn’t my fault. I hope that women who’ve experienced this traumatic hell will be able to realize it too. No matter what, we didn’t deserve this.

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The Rockets are in it to win it this year. Composite Getty Image.

While the rolling Astros have a week of possible World Series preview matchups against the Phillies and Cubs, it’s the Rockets who made the biggest local sports headline with their acquisition of Kevin Durant. What a move! Of course there is risk involved in trading for a guy soon to turn 37 years old and who carries an injury history, but balancing risk vs. reward is a part of the game. This is a fabulous move for the Rockets. It’s understood that there are dissenters to this view. Everyone is entitled to an opinion, including people with the wrong opinion! Let’s dig in.

The Rockets had a wonderful season in winning 52 games before their disappointing first-round playoff loss to the Warriors, but like everyone else in the Western Conference, they were nowhere close to Oklahoma City’s caliber. While they finished second in the West, the Rockets only finished four games ahead of the play-in. That letting the stew simmer with further growth among their young players would yield true championship contention was no given for 2025-26 or beyond.

Kevin Durant is one of the 10 greatest offensive players the NBA has ever seen. Among his current contemporaries only Stephen Curry and Nikola Jokic make that list. For instance, Durant offensively has clearly been better than the late and legendary Kobe Bryant. To view it from a Houston perspective, Durant has been an indisputably greater offensive force than the amazing Hakeem Olajuwon. But this is not a nostalgia trip in which the Rockets are trading for a guy based on what he used to be. While Durant could hit the wall at any point, living in fear that it’s about to happen is no way to live because KD, approaching his 18th NBA season, is still an elite offensive player.

As to the durability concern, Durant played more games (62) this past season than did Fred VanVleet, Jabari Smith, and Tari Eason. The season before he played more games (75) than did VanVleet, Dillon Brooks, and Alperen Sengun. In each of the last two seasons Durant averaged more minutes per game (36.9) than any Rocket. That was stupid and/or desperate of the Suns, the Rockets will be smarter. Not that the workload eroded Durant’s production or efficiency. Over the two seasons he averaged almost 27 points per game while shooting 52 percent from the floor, 42 percent from behind the three-point line, and 85 percent from the free throw line. Awesomeness. The Rockets made the leap to being a very good team despite a frankly crummy half-court offense. The Rockets ranked 21st among the 30 NBA teams in three-point percentage, and dead last in free throw percentage. Amen Thompson has an array of skills and looks poised to be a unique star. Alas, Thompson has no credible jump shot. VanVleet is not a creator, Smith has limited handle. Adding Durant directly addresses the Rockets’ most glaring weakness.

The price the Rockets paid was in the big picture, minimal, unless you think Jalen Green is going to become a bonafide star. Green is still just 23 years old and spectacular athletically, but nothing he has done over four pro seasons suggests he’s on the cusp of greatness. In no season has Green even shot the league average from the floor or from three. His defense has never been as good as it should be given his athleticism. Compared to some other two-guards who made the NBA move one year removed from high school, four seasons into his career Green is waaaaaay behind where Shae Gilgeous-Alexander, Anthony Edwards, and Devin Booker were four seasons in, and now well behind his draft classmate Cade Cunningham. Dillon Brooks was a solid pro in two seasons here and shot a career-best from three in 2024-2025, but he’s being replaced by Kevin Durant! In terms of the draft pick capital sent to Phoenix, five second round picks are essentially meaningless. The Rockets have multiple extra first round picks in the coming years. As for the sole first-rounder dealt away, whichever player the Rockets would have taken 10th Wednesday night would have been rather unlikely to crack the playing rotation.

VanVleet signs extension

Re-signing Fred VanVleet to a two-year, 50 million dollar guarantee is sensible. In a vacuum, VanVleet was substantially overpaid at the over 40 mil he made per season the last two. He’s a middle-of-the-pack starting point guard. But his professionalism and headiness brought major value to the Rockets’ kiddie corps while their payroll was otherwise very low. Ideally, Reed Sheppard makes a leap to look like an NBA lead guard in his second season, after a pretty much zippo of a rookie campaign. Sheppard is supposed to be a lights-out shooter. For the Rockets to max out, they need two sharpshooters on the court to balance Thompson’s presence.

For Astro-centric conversation, join Brandon Strange, Josh Jordan, and me for the Stone Cold ‘Stros podcast which drops each Monday afternoon, with an additional episode now on Thursday. Click here to catch!

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