By Jason Erickson
Noah Taitz walked into college basketball with a clean jumper, four state titles from Bishop Gorman, and a future that seemed to be pointing straight upward. He will leave it as someone very different. Six years reshaped him in ways he never expected. Those years were filled with stops and starts, injuries, uncertainty, growth, and eventually a sense of peace he was not sure he would ever find again. His final season at Utah Valley is not just a closing chapter. It is the first one in a long time that feels whole.
His college career began under circumstances no freshman could have prepared for. Taitz arrived at Stanford in September of 2020, right as the pandemic turned everything upside down. Instead of meeting new classmates or walking around campus, he spent seven months inside a strict bubble. There were no fans in the arena, no in person classes, daily testing, and very little social life. “My freshman year was brutal… depressing,” he said. “I worked so hard to get there, and my first impression was like, this place is horrible.” His sophomore season brought moments that felt a little more normal, but something still felt off. His role on the team was not evolving, and the environment never fully settled for him. After two seasons, he made the difficult choice to leave.
The move to LMU looked perfect at first. Sunshine, a beautiful campus, and friends everywhere he turned. But basketball nearly disappeared from his life. A calf strain from Stanford, which once seemed manageable, unraveled into something far more complicated. Hoping to speed up his recovery, he tried a series of aggressive treatments that instead pushed him backward. Even simple things like climbing stairs triggered painful spasms in his calves. “I literally had doctors not sure if I would ever play again,” he said.
Even then, he kept showing up. He attended every practice, every film session, and every meeting. He could not play, but he refused to walk away. Progress came in slow, almost invisible steps that were just enough to keep him believing. Nearly two full years passed before his body finally started to respond. Looking back, he says that stretch of life hardened something inside him. “It taught me mental toughness,” he said. “If I could get through that, I can get through anything.”
A real turning point arrived in the summer of 2024. Back home in Las Vegas, he trained every day with Charles Sams, a trainer who understood exactly how hard to push and when to ease off. It was the first time in years Taitz genuinely felt himself coming back.
Returning to Las Vegas meant more than training. It meant time with the people who keep him grounded. Both of his parents live in Vegas, each remarried, and Noah is the older brother to three much younger siblings. His sisters, Victoria and Ella, are nine years old, and his brother, Travis, is seven. The age gap is so wide that he jokes he feels more like an uncle than a brother. The truth is that he is protective of them in a way that reveals how much he cares. Whenever he is home, he makes a point to visit both sides of the family. His siblings have grown up watching him from a distance, seeing their big brother on TV more often than seeing him at the dinner table. Being home reminded him why he kept fighting through the darkest parts of his injury. They were watching, and he wanted them to see him finish what he started.
Still not fully cleared, he entered the transfer portal on the final possible day. Utah Valley reached out and asked him to visit. He came to Orem, went through a workout, and caught fire in a shooting drill, hitting 23 of 25 threes. The staff saw enough. More importantly, they believed in him. “I was grateful they were willing to take a chance on me,” he said. “They knew I was not fully back yet, but they still believed.”
Utah Valley became exactly what he needed. For the first time since high school, he was healthy enough to be available for every game. “It was my first time winning at the college level,” he said. “My first time playing every game. First time really enjoying everything again.” A moment during the winter stands out in his mind. It was the first time he dunked comfortably in practice. Later, in the season opener, he drove baseline and hammered home his first in game dunk since January of 2022. His mom was in the stands. “She had not seen me do that since high school,” he said. “That was a cool moment.”
Ask what he hopes people think when they hear his name and he does not hesitate. “A good person. A good teammate. A winner,” he says. His teammates might describe him as meticulous or even obsessive about organization. He prides himself on knowing scouting reports cold and helping direct teammates even when he is not on the floor. “My composure is my biggest value to the team,” he said. “Guys can rely on me in those moments.”
His nickname, Rocket, goes back to eighth grade, when a skinny kid from Vegas kept surprising people with dunks. “The rocket emoji started flying around, and I just ran with it,” he laughs. His number, seven, is a nod to his hometown and to good fortune. It is also the first time in his college career that he has been able to wear it.
When he thinks about the wide eyed freshman who arrived at Stanford, he cannot help but smile. “I showed up a boy,” he said. “Now I am a man.” The injury forced him to take responsibility for every part of his health. Sleep, hydration, nutrition, supplements, all of it mattered. The time away also gave him a coach’s view of the game that now slows everything down for him.
After everything he has been through, the bubble, the injury, the doubt, and the slow climb back, this season carries a different kind of weight. The dream is simple. The NCAA Tournament. Utah Valley has never been. He has not either. “That is the ultimate goal,” he said. “It would be the first time in school history.”
And somehow, fittingly, the WAC Tournament will be played for the final time in his hometown of Las Vegas. “It feels like the stars have aligned,” he said. “Hopefully we are cutting down nets in Vegas.”
Six years. Three schools. One injury that nearly took the game from him. What remains is a player who refused to quit and a season that means more than anyone in the arena will ever know. He is ready for the moment he worked so long to reach. The Rocket is back and he’s ready for the moment he worked so long to reach.
