Beyond the Final Whistle: Zoë Bormet’s Story of Philanthropy, Perseverance and Purpose

Interview By Christina Winnegar | November 26 2025

The same hallways where her father once trained now echo with the rhythm of Zoë Bormet’s cleats. In Ann Arbor, Michigan, legacy is not abstract; it is something students can feel under their feet as they follow the same paths that earlier generations walked. Her father, Sean Bormet, was part of an earlier generation, one who wrestled decades ago and helped shape the University of Michigan’s culture. Today, his daughter Zoë wears a different jersey, but carries forward the same reverence for what it means to represent the block M. 

However, the story of Zoë Bormet is not confined to family legacy or the Wolverines’ field hockey stat sheet. Her impact exists in the space where competition and compassion meet, where drive becomes devotion and where community becomes her home. 

Before the Block M stitched itself into her identity, Bormet was a young girl from Naperville, Illinois, where field hockey was uncommon. Her mother was finishing a doctoral degree while her father accepted an opportunity to return to his alma mater to coach. 

The move to Ann Arbor rerouted everything, unknowingly shaping Bormet into who she has become today.

“In Illinois, field hockey wasn’t a thing,” she said. “When we moved here [Ann Arbor], I landed right in one of the few communities where the sport was big. From the first time I picked up a stick, I was hooked.”

The game clicked immediately. It was not just the competition; it was the creativity, the strategy, and the speed woven into the game's dynamics. She found her niche: field hockey.

Despite Bormet’s world being very present with athletics, it was also built from the very beginning on balance, grace and empathy. She had grown up volunteering in Ann Arbor’s peer-to-peer mentoring program, spending time with fellow students in special education classrooms.

“Those friendships taught me more than any textbook ever could,” she said. “They showed me what true connection looks like. I learned empathy before I even knew what the word meant.”

The time she spent mentoring students in self-contained classrooms, from all backgrounds and on the spectrum, shaped how she approached everything in her life: teammates, opponents, and eventually the communities that have now become her calling.

By the time Bormet reached high school, she had already decided what she wanted: the University of Michigan. The same place she had spent her childhood in the stands, watching alumni, later wishing to return, knowing one day, future generations would be in the stands, watching her on the field. 

That sense of legacy pulled her forward. However, when she arrived on campus, her plans changed drastically.

Due to National Collegiate Athletic Association (NCAA) COVID-19 eligibility extensions, her recruiting class disappeared. What she once would have gone into with a built-in support system of fellow teammates, going through the early growing pains of Division I sports, turned into a solo journey. She was the only freshman, a recruitment class of one.

“It was strange,” she remembered. “Everyone had someone. I didn’t. I had to figure it out on my own.”

In her first year, she came in, expectations high, only to be met with plans being flipped upside down. Redshirted. No playing time, no travel, just training and waiting for her chance. It could have broken her, steered her away from the path. Instead, it built her.

“That year forced me to grow,” she said. “I learned discipline in a whole new way. I had to be patient. It made me appreciate the moments when I finally got to play.”

The waiting period became part of her story, a quiet, defining stretch that taught her that resilience leads to results.

By her junior year, all that patience paid off. She was part of something historic, a legacy in Wolverines' athletics. Michigan had stumbled early, dropping regular-season games to Indiana, Maryland, and Northwestern, but in a 2024 championship run that felt like destiny, there was a shift. Michigan beat all three teams back-to-back, each in the most dramatic way, in overtime or shootouts.

“We earned that one,” she said, smiling as she recalled the memories of the final seconds. “The first time I was a Big Ten champion, I didn’t play a minute; I was a redshirt. This time, I was on the field. I got to sprint to my goalie from the turf instead of the sideline. That high, I’ll be chasing it for the rest of my life.”

That moment was not just a win. It was validation, proof that patience, when paired with purpose, pays off. 

For Bormet, though, the championship ran deeper than just a medal. It reflected how much she had grown since her first year entering Michigan and the familial legacy she had carved her own path into.

Though most experience a single era during their college athletic careers, Bormet lived through two eras of Michigan field hockey. She trained under Marcia Pankratz, one of the sport’s most respected coaches, and now plays under Kristi Gannon Fisher, who is crafting a new identity for the program. 

“Marcia taught me how to own [my] space and never back down,” she said. “Kristi reminds me that family comes first. To be part of Marcia’s last team and Kristi’s first, that’s something I’ll never forget.”

The duality resonates with Bormet herself: intense on the field, grounded off the field. Embodying the spirit of a competitor who leads with compassion. 

She has now grown into a senior voice in the locker room, mentoring the underclassmen like she once was, bridging generations of players who see her not only as a teammate but also as a role model. 

“I try to lead by example,” she said. “I want my teammates to know they can count on me, whether it’s on the field or when life gets heavy. That’s what leadership means to me.” Off the field, Bormet’s leadership work has built an equally powerful, enduring legacy. 

Some of her favorite moments in Ann Arbor do not happen under stadium lights or during championship runs with her athletics team. Instead, they involve a different community in her life. It is the side of sports that does not make highlight reels, the one that reveals who Zoë is beyond the competitor. 

Victor’s Day, an annual event hosted by Michigan Athletics and the TWall Foundation, where hundreds of students with special needs visit campus to spend a day with Wolverine athletes. For Bormet, it is not about the spotlight but the meaning behind these moments, proving they matter more than any scoreboard.

The idea of this special day is simple: every child deserves to feel what it means to be a Michigan athlete. Across the athletic complex, student athletes run adaptive sport stations, while families cheer from the sidelines with pride.“Watching the joy and sense of accomplishment each time an individual comes to our station to try field hockey, and pushes that ball over the goal line triumphantly, makes my heart soar,” Bormet expressed.

Moments like these give her something competition never could, perspective. 

For her, it is more than giving back. It is a perspective, a reminder of why she laces up her cleats to put her best foot forward on and off the field. “It reminds me that athletics aren’t just about competition,” she said. “They’re about belonging. Everyone deserves that feeling, to be seen, supported, and celebrated.”

Those moments of revelation recentered her and carried her into the next chapter of her outreach, one marked by an even deeper bond.

Through the national nonprofit, Michigan field hockey was paired with a new member of their family, Charlotte, a young girl who quickly grew close to Bormet. What began as a new addition to the team quickly became the bond that now defines them as they lace up their cleats.

Charlotte has her own locker, jersey, and pregame rituals. Joining the Wolverines at practices, media days, and home games, she encourages the team with her bright laughter from the sidelines. “Charlotte’s the heart and soul of our team,” Bormet expressed. “She brings this energy that’s impossible to describe. You hear her cheering from the moment warmups start, and when the game ends, she’s already sprinting toward us, arms open. She reminds us what joy really looks like.”

It’s a connection that redefined her idea of success. They taught Bormet that the true power of sport lies not only in victory but also in the ability to unite people who might never have crossed paths otherwise. 

For the Wolverines, she represents everything pure about sports: the laughter, the connection and the freedom to play without expectations. Charlotte’s presence is a gentle reminder for Bormet, a reminder when she looks to her on the sidelines with her supportive smile that being an athlete is meant to be fun. It is not purely about competition, it is about the future generations the Wolverines inspire. Competition is not how her love for the game began, nor is it how it will carry her further.

While Team IMPACT gave Michigan field hockey a new teammate, it also gave Bormet a picture of something everlasting. That being an athlete is more than performance; she is part of something bigger. Something that changes lives, like Charlotte’s.

Community work is not a résumé line for Zoë Bormet; it is an attribute of her character that she has lived with since childhood. The same young girl who used to help classmates in peer-mentoring programs now runs volunteer initiatives for an entire university athletic department. 

As a senior, she serves on the Student-Athlete Advisory Committee’s community engagement board, leading efforts to increase student participation in local service. With recent structural shifts affecting Michigan’s outreach programs, many of the integrated resources that once supported these events now depend on athletes like her to keep them alive. “My goal is to increase student-athlete involvement and participation in community engagement and service,” she said. “With some of the structural challenges we’re facing, we need to expand community involvement now more than ever.”

She has been part of every major volunteer event on campus: Victor’s Day, Best Buddies, Special Olympics, Exceptional Journeys, and Night to Shine. An inclusive prom experience hosted by the Tim Tebow Foundation that celebrates individuals with disabilities, one she noted to be one of her favorite events each year.

“Whether it becomes part of my career or not, advocacy, service and philanthropy will always be part of my life,” she said. “If it can become my career, that would be amazing. But no matter what, I’ll always be involved – Team IMPACT, Special Olympics, Best Buddies, TWall, Exceptional Journeys, any nonprofit wherever I am in the world.” 

It is a list that would impress anyone, but what makes it remarkable is her consistency. Between morning lifts, classes, practices, and games, she still finds time to show up. To listen. To connect. 

“I’m competitive in everything I do,” Bormet said. “That same competitiveness pushes me to do my best work in advocacy, too. It’s about creating results, not just in sports, but in the community.”

She has learned that leadership is not always about whispers in the huddle or the scoreboard. Sometimes it is about recognizing when others need a voice, and using your own to help them amplify it. 

Balancing Division I athletics and a growing leadership portfolio is not simple. There were stretches where Bormet admits she lost sight of her “why.” The days started to blend into a repetitive routine: class, practice, film, repeat. “There were times when I felt burnt out, when I forgot what I was working toward,” she remembered. “But every time I reconnected with community work, it grounded me again. It reminded me who I am outside of being an athlete.” 

She learned to honor both sides of her identity, allowing them to intertwine and stay true to her character: the competitor who refuses to quit and the empath who leads with compassion. The perspective of treating service with the same intensity as training, pushing her to achieve the best possible outcomes, helped her rediscover joy in her sport. What began as a grind to put her best foot forward turned back into gratitude. “Sports taught me teamwork,” she explained. “Advocacy taught me empathy. Together, they shaped how I show up for people.”

It is a balance that now defines her, one that’s guiding her next chapter as she prepares to step beyond Michigan and continue the work she started here.

As she approaches graduation and plans to begin her master’s program in psychology, Bormet’s focus is clear: she wants to merge her passions for sports, service and mental health into something lasting. “I don’t know exactly where it’ll lead,” she explained. “But if I can build something that connects athletes, community and purpose – that’s the dream.”

Zoë Bormet’s legacy at Michigan will not only be measured in goals or stat sheets; it is written in moments. Her impact is shown in the children who discovered newfound confidence at Victor’s Day, in the teammates who found family in Charlotte, and in the community she helped shape off the field. “Michigan taught me that strength isn’t loud,” she said. “It’s steady. It’s how you treat people when no one’s watching.”

When she walks through the same hallways her father once did, she knows her story fits within a larger one. Because for Zoë Bormet, the heart of Michigan has never been about what happens between plays. It is what happens when the field goes quiet, and she is still there, still giving, still building something that lasts. 

A purpose that goes beyond the final whistle.