‘Now it’s our turn to be there for her’: How FSU rallied around coach Lonni Alameda after her cancer diagnosis… Read More

TALLAHASSEE, Fla. — Florida State softball coach Lonni Alameda sits just outside the main waiting room at Tallahassee Memorial Cancer Center with a black cap pulled low over her bald head and a long gray sweater keeping her warm. She readies her bag, loaded with notes and her laptop, so she can start breaking down game tape once she gets settled.

“Alana?” a nurse calls

She picks up her bag, strides over and smiles at hearing her given name. The softball world knows her as either Lonni or “Coacha,” the nickname her players use.

On this particular day in April, she is led through the doors and into a bigger pod in the corner, the windows offering a view of the trees outside. The nurse draws the curtains, offering some privacy. Though nothing hints at who she is, the staff knows. The nurse starts peppering her with questions about how she feels to make sure she is not overdoing things at work.

Alameda assures them she is doing just fine. The nurse starts testing her blood pressure, taking her temperature and reading results from a blood test she was given earlier in the morning — all to ensure she is ready to receive her next chemo treatment for breast cancer.

Since mid-March, this has become her routine every Monday, arriving at the hospital between 7:30 and 8 a.m. so she can get home by early afternoon. Every week, she inches closer to not only beating cancer but reaching the ultimate goal on the field: another trip to the Women’s College World Series. That quest has reached its pivotal moment, starting Friday against Texas Tech in the super regionals.

No matter what happens this weekend, a second cycle of treatments awaits after the WCWS in June. That cycle involves an even more potent chemo drug, Adriamycin, known as “The Red Devil” because of its color and potential to intensify side effects, including nausea, vomiting, mouth sores and fatigue.

Alameda catches herself thinking ahead and imagining the worst. She stops, repeating a mantra she uses with her team.

“I have to be 10 toes down,” she says. “I just have to be right here. Right now.”

The focus is today, and today she feels happy and hopeful. The nurse connects the IV to the port implanted in her chest. The chemo drip begins.


AT NOON THE following day, Alameda is on her feet at JoAnne Graf Field. Every Tuesday, she spends two hours working with each of her pitchers, going over notes she has made over the previous week.

Alameda says she feels good today. She always does the day after chemo because she is given steroids to help minimize the side effects. Eating is often a chore: Food has lost its taste, and the nausea makes it hard to eat big meals.

Later in the week, she knows the exhaustion will hit her. The biggest issue right now is the rashes that have crept up and down her arms and legs, a side effect of an experimental drug she is trying as part of her regimen. She wears long sleeves and long pants to help minimize the urge to scratch.

When it is time for true freshman Jazzy Francik to take her turn, Alameda reminds her about the importance of having patience throughout the long season. They practice her drop ball first, then her screwball.

“Good!” Alameda says. “Just like that!”

Less than two weeks later, Francik would become the first true freshman to throw a no-hitter at Florida State since 2012 — on the same weekend the Seminoles clinched the 15th regular-season ACC title in school history. In early May, Alameda was named ACC Coach of the Year for the seventh time and now has the Seminoles in position to make their sixth WCWS appearance in her 17 years as head coach.

Her players want nothing more than to win for her.

“This is bigger than softball,” sophomore shortstop Isa Torres said. “We know how much she pours into this program. So being the best versions of ourselves out on that field every single day is what we are going to do for her. We don’t want to do it for ourselves. It’s always for her.”

Alameda took over the FSU program in 2009 following NFCA Hall of Fame coach JoAnne Graf’s stint that led to two AIAW national titles. Alameda has already built on that legacy — leading the Seminoles to the 2018 national title, nine ACC tournament championships and more than 800 wins, becoming a Hall of Famer herself.

Not once did she think about stepping away after her diagnosis. In her mind, she could practice what she always preaches — the importance of showing up, even during tough times.

“When you talk about showing up — maybe I don’t feel good today, but I’m going to be here,” Alameda says. “As a young person, if you can see people can do that in life in general, that is what we are talking about. It is just really important for me to be here.”

Alameda points out this is Team No. 42 at Florida State. As is tradition, players pick a theme for the season in August. This season, they chose to find peace in their journey.

“Grateful 4 Everything

Entitled 2 Nothing”

This slogan feels even more meaningful now.


ALAMEDA GOT AN urgent phone call in June 2024 while she was on the road recruiting. Her younger brother, Aaron, had died suddenly of a heart attack in their native California, two months shy of his 52nd birthday. She immediately flew home to spend time with her mom and dad, as they processed their grief together. The task of cleaning out his apartment fell to her. In between moving boxes, she felt something tweak in her knee.

The pain intensified over the ensuing months until she felt a pop. She underwent knee surgery in early November. For eight weeks, she was not allowed to put any weight on her knee and had to get around using crutches.

On Christmas Eve, Alameda put her crutches under her arms, just like she had done for weeks. But this time, she immediately felt a burning sensation between her armpit and right breast, as if the crutch had punctured something deep inside.

She touched around the area and felt a mass. Unsure whether it was a welt from using the crutches or a breast lump, she called her gynecologist to get the next available appointment. Alameda was up to date on her mammograms, and she never had any issues. This time, though, she had a bad feeling.

In early January, she went in for an ultrasound, which can detect lumps that dense breast tissue sometimes hides during routine mammograms.

“You have a pretty big mass in there,” the technician said.

All Almeda could think was, “My brother, in a weird way, is saving me right now.”

Alameda was sent for more testing while waiting for an official diagnosis. Finally, in late February, doctors told her that she had Stage 3 triple-negative breast cancer. Her mass was between the size of a walnut and a tangerine, and they would need to begin chemo as soon as possible to shrink the tumor. The good news, in this case, was that the cancer had not spread to her lymph nodes. Doctors reassured her that there is a high success rate in treating this type of cancer, and her prognosis was good.

“The doctor, she came in and gave me a big hug because I have known her for a long time, and she was like, ‘You’re a fighter, and plenty of people live through this. You’re going to be fine.’ So I was like, ‘OK, I’m going to be fine.’ It was all very positive. They conveyed a plan right away, and I was all in,” Alameda says.

Alameda gave her doctors her calendar and made one thing clear: They would need to fit her treatments in between practices and games.

One of her first calls went to FSU women’s basketball coach Brooke Wyckoff, who coached during the 2023-24 season after her and treatment plan. Alameda had a list of questions: When would she start feeling sick? How sick would she feel? How should she manage her team? How should she manage her schedule?

Wyckoff told her it was important to delegate responsibility to others on her staff because she would not be able to keep the same pace. Alameda was known for staying up late, sending emails at 2 or 3 a.m. She would not be able to do that any longer. Wyckoff also warned that Alameda would have to be more careful about going into crowded spaces since her immune system would be weaker than usual.

But more than anything, Wyckoff supported and encouraged Alameda to keep coaching.

“This job really is your life,” Wyckoff says. “Not in a bad way, in all the best ways. It’s a passion, it’s a lifestyle. To imagine just giving that up and saying I’m not going to be a part of that for a season is unthinkable. I was so excited about the season and our team, the thought of just walking away from the girls, I just couldn’t. Lonni said the same thing.”


ALAMEDA HAD HER first treatment March 17. The hard part would come next: telling the team. Just before their midweek game against Stetson on March 26, she called a meeting.

She thought a lot about what she wanted to say and wrote pages of notes. But as soon as she got up in front of the team, she burst into tears. She managed to blurt out, “I have breast cancer.” Senior catcher/outfielder Katie Dack immediately hugged her. The rest of the team followed, enveloping their coach through their own tears.

Alameda told the team how she planned to coach, reassuring them that she would be OK.

“You never want to see your strong, fearless leader get diagnosed with something like that,” fifth-year senior catcher Michaela Edenfield says. “But I kept thinking, ‘Now it’s our turn to be there for her.’ I just remember looking at her when she was done talking, and I said, ‘Coacha, you’re truly one of the strongest, bravest women I’ve ever met in my whole entire life. Please let us know how we can help you.'”

Two days later, their Friday night game against NC State took on even bigger meaning. It was their annual “Paint it Pink” game, an athletics department initiative across all women’s sports that raises money through auctions and fundraising for the Tallahassee Memorial Hospital Walker Breast Program.

Alameda and Wyckoff have been involved in fundraising for this program; they are pictured in a photo from August 2023 with volleyball coach Chris Poole and hospital officials. Alameda is front and center, Wyckoff next to her, holding a donation check for $12,672.