Milly Brock’s story is defined by a simple truth: the goal circle is where she finds her center, her calm, and the confidence that makes others watch in awe. At 194 centimetres tall, her release is so fluid that defenders growl in frustration while crowds fall silent in admiration. Years in the semi-elite Victorian Netball League saw her as Bendigo Strikers’ trusted starting goal shooter during their historic championship run in 2024. She’s the player teammates rely on for the crucial, post-siren shot and for remaining composed when pressure mounts.
But January brought a shift just as pre-season momentum built for the Strikers and her grassroots club Tongala in the Goulburn Valley. A fog descended—words tangled, energy drained, a sense of unease without reason. Soon, a familiar battle resurfaced: anti-NMDA receptor encephalitis, a rare autoimmune condition affecting fewer than one in a million. It marked Milly’s second outbreak in five years.
Inside the darkness, a morning in early January found her at work three hours early—an inexplicable burst of anxiety and disorientation guiding her steps. Loved ones urged her to seek hospital care, and tests in Echuca confirmed something was amiss and unsettlingly familiar.
Anti-NMDA receptor encephalitis disrupts brain receptors that govern speech, memory, movement, and behavior. When the immune system misfires, the brain can appear to shut down: words vanish, awareness dims, and self-control falters.
That night Milly was flown to Melbourne. She recalls hunger as a stubborn, omnipresent urge: "I was starving," she remembers. "The man on the plane gave me his muesli bar, and then [I remember] nothing, really." In the care of neurologist Matthew Ligtermoet at Northern Hospital, the prognosis became clearer: this illness can escalate rapidly, but early treatment often preserves function because the brain itself isn’t destroyed—it just misbehaves for a time.
The following month dissolved into a blur of almost total amnesia. Milly describes herself as catatonic—eyes open, but not truly present. Hallucinations, seizures, and violent confusion followed. Speech vanished; she scrawled "help me" on walls and found it increasingly hard to swallow or walk. Security guards watched outside her door to prevent self-harm or wandering. The emotional toll was immense for her family: her mum Jennine cried on the drive home from the hospital, while her dad Darren, partner Ellie Wright, and sister Rosie stood as unwavering links to loved ones waiting for news. Dr. Ligtermoet emphasizes the severity: Milly was critically unwell.
The first episode in 2020 had already taught the family to advocate fiercely. This time, they approached the fight with knowledge: Milly’s condition could be managed with prompt treatment, and the brain’s skills could come back online as the immune system settled.
Back in Echuca and Tongala, the community mobilized with remarkable speed. A GoFundMe raised nearly $19,000 to cover rent and bills for Milly’s family, while a club barbecue added about $4,000. Milly recalls that money helped keep her family by her side—fuel, food, hotel stays near the hospital—while she focused on recovery andSalvaged work-time remained out of reach. She admits she didn’t fully see the generosity at the moment, but the impact became clear once she returned to normalcy. The support let her family stay with her without watching the clock or the balance sheet.
The early weeks of 2025 found Milly at Northern Hospital, then a transfer to the Royal Talbot Rehabilitation Centre in March. The outside world faded away: no visitors, no colors, no distractions—just slow, steady progress. By May she could scarcely recite the alphabet, a task she had performed every day in therapy. Fragmented speech slowly returned, and even her shuddered stutters during early rehab became affectionate memories among Tongala teammates.
Then came a turning moment: even before she could speak fluently again, Milly could still shoot a Gilbert. Her mother brought a netball to rehab, and instinctively Milly’s body rose into her familiar form—the release remained flawless. The medical team recognized this as vital evidence: if treatment halts the immune assault, a great deal of function can rebound. Dr. Ligtermoet explains that the skills and movement Milly relies on can reappear once the brain is no longer under attack.
By June, Milly was back with the club for a function in Tonny—even as the world outside still asked questions about her pace and form. In July she was ready to rejoin full competition, initially in B grade to ease her return, while still eligible for A grade. On July 12 in Barooga, she sprinted onto the court to a roar worthy of a finals atmosphere. Ellie stood beside her, and Grace Hammond, her co-coach, held back tears as they worked together in the goal circle. The comeback continued, quarter by quarter, as she regained confidence and rhythm.
Eight months after being unable to walk or speak, Milly helped Tongala clinch a premiership in the Murray Football Netball League’s B grade grand final. The medal symbolized more than a victory in sport; it stood for resilience and recovery—the concrete proof that she had fought back to life on the court.
Looking ahead, Milly acknowledges that autoimmune encephalitis isn’t gone; it can relapse and leave a lingering shadow. She now attends hospital visits every six months to monitoring relapse risk and discuss ongoing care. The fear is real: could the illness return stronger next time? Would the experience be more taxing on her family and Ellie? Dr. Ligtermoet notes that relapse remains possible and underscores the importance of ongoing vigilance.
For the moment, Milly isn’t chasing elite netball glory. She’s enjoying life at home—mowing the lawn, shopping, and planning a wedding after Ellie’s proposal in October. Her journey wasn’t a single triumphant moment but a mosaic of small recoveries: the first syllable spoken, the first step taken, the first dance, and the first goal. Her body remembered what her brain had forgotten, and the court welcomed her back without judgment, simply offering its familiar lines.
And so Milly Brock’s comeback remains a testament to perseverance, a reminder that even the most daunting health battles can be overcome with support, patient effort, and a shot that never truly leaves the hand.
Erin Delahunty is a freelance sports and feature writer.
