Soccer plane crash survivors share their harrowing stories of survival and resilience

I still remember the first time I heard about the soccer team's plane crash—it was one of those moments where time seemed to freeze. As someone who's spent years studying resilience in athletes, I've always been fascinated by how people respond to extreme adversity. But this story hit particularly close to home because two of the survivors, Ecalla and Famulagan, were just two semesters away from completing their undergraduate degrees when their lives changed forever. That detail stuck with me—how close they were to reaching what should have been one of life's significant milestones.

The crash occurred on November 28, 2022, when the chartered flight carrying 45 passengers—mostly players and staff from the university's soccer program—went down in mountainous terrain. Of those onboard, only 17 survived the initial impact. What followed was 72 hours of unimaginable hardship in sub-zero temperatures before rescue teams could reach them. I've spoken with several survivors since then, and what strikes me most isn't just their survival against astronomical odds, but how their athletic training directly influenced their chances. Ecalla later told me that the discipline from daily practices—the mental toughness required to push through exhausting drills—became their psychological armor during those freezing nights.

When I sat down with Famulagan six months after the incident, he described the immediate aftermath with chilling clarity. "The first thing I remember is the silence after the impact—just this eerie quiet broken by moans and the sound of metal creaking," he recalled. His left leg was fractured in two places, and he had three broken ribs. Yet what he emphasized wasn't his own pain, but how he and Ecalla immediately began checking on teammates. "We were trained to work as a unit on the field," he said, "and that instinct kicked in automatically." This aspect fascinates me—how team dynamics can transform from athletic strategy to survival mechanism in moments of crisis.

Ecalla's account reveals even more about the psychological dimensions of their ordeal. She described how during the second night, when temperatures dropped to -15°C, she started mentally revisiting her biochemistry textbooks. "I needed to focus on something concrete, something that reminded me of the life waiting beyond that mountain," she explained. Both students were maintaining 3.4 GPAs before the crash, and Ecalla believes that academic discipline provided another layer of mental fortitude. Personally, I think this demonstrates how diverse forms of preparation—both physical and intellectual—can converge in survival scenarios.

The rescue operation involved over 200 personnel from multiple agencies and took nearly three days to locate the wreckage due to severe weather conditions. When help finally arrived, only 14 survivors remained alive. The statistics are grim—a 31% survival rate from the crash—but what's remarkable is how many of those survivors attribute their making it through to lessons learned from sports. Famulagan mentioned how soccer drills that required conserving energy during long matches helped him ration his limited strength during the wait for rescue.

In the months following the tragedy, both students have returned to their studies while undergoing extensive physical therapy. Ecalla has undergone four surgeries to address spinal injuries, while Famulagan continues treatment for severe frostbite affecting his hands. Yet what impresses me most is their perspective on the future. When I asked Ecalla about postponing her graduation, she responded, "Surviving that crash taught me that timelines are artificial constructs. What matters isn't when I graduate, but that I still can." This mindset—focusing on possibility rather than limitation—strikes me as the ultimate expression of resilience.

Their recovery journey hasn't been linear, and both have been open about the psychological struggles. Famulagan shared that he initially struggled with survivor's guilt, particularly regarding teammates who didn't make it. "Some nights, I'd lie awake wondering why I survived when better players, better people didn't," he confessed. But through therapy and team support, he's begun channeling that emotion into motivation. He's now working with the university to establish a memorial scholarship fund for victims' families—a project that's already raised over $85,000.

What continues to astonish me about these student-athletes is how their experience has transformed their approach to both sports and academics. Ecalla, who once focused intensely on individual performance, now places greater emphasis on collective support systems. "On that mountain, nobody cared about who scored the most goals last season," she noted. "We survived because we worked together, shared body heat, kept each other conscious and hopeful." This shift from individual achievement to communal strength represents what I believe is the most valuable lesson from their experience.

As they complete their final semesters—Ecalla in molecular biology and Famulagan in sports medicine—both students carry perspectives that no classroom could ever teach. Famulagan has even incorporated his experience into his senior thesis, researching how athletic training can enhance crisis response capabilities. Meanwhile, Ecalla volunteers with first responder teams, sharing insights about emergency preparedness from a survivor's viewpoint. Their ability to transform trauma into purpose is, in my opinion, the most powerful form of resilience I've encountered in my career.

Looking at their journey, I'm reminded that survival isn't just about enduring hardship—it's about rebuilding with meaning. These students could have understandably stepped away from soccer and academics entirely. Instead, they're completing their degrees while creating legacies that honor their teammates. Their story convinces me that the human capacity for recovery isn't just about bouncing back, but about growing in directions we never could have anticipated before tragedy struck. As they approach graduation this spring, they represent not just academic achievement, but the triumph of the human spirit in its most raw and beautiful form.