The thought comes out of nowhere. A result of my pep talk in the locker room, maybe? That fierce intention twenty minutes ago, pivoting to a manifestation?
I begin my normal routine during the shoot-around. Layups, short jumpers in the paint, mid-range jumpers and three-pointers, all mixed in.
And something feels…extraconnected. The tether between my hands and the basket, direct and taut. The ball keeps swishing in, and my shots feel effortless.
I had many days like this at UConn, but not yet on the Surge.
I look around, and none of my teammates seem to be noticing that my baskets keep falling in. Focused on their own routines, as is typical.
Okay.I didn’t feel anything special during our warmup on the court an hour ago before the crowd came in, but I’ll take it now.
The game begins a short while later, and I try to keep my intensity up from the bench. Our opponent is Cleveland again, and their guard Lakisha Maxwell and I had a good battle last time, so hopefully history repeats itself. When I get in the game, anyway.
At the eight-minute mark, we’re up 18-15, and Coach substitutes me in for Katrina. After stepping on the floor, I slide into position to guard Maxwell.
“Good to see you again, Parker,” she says with a smirk.
“We’ll see if you’re still saying that in a few minutes,” I retort.
We’re smiling; it’s all normal shit-talking.
Their point guard throws the ball in from the sideline, aiming for Lakisha. Only I get a hand out to block her from catching it, deflecting the ball to Sarah.
Once I see Sarah take possession, I bolt toward our end, ahead of the Cleveland players. Sarah clocks what I am doing and makes a long pass to me as I keep sprinting past half court. I catch it mid-fast-break, drop three dribbles on the way to the basket, and make an easy lay-in.
Welp, that was a nice way to start my game.
I wink at Lakisha, and she shakes her head at me.
Cleveland’s next play ends in a missed basket, and Wendy grabs the rebound. All ten players get set on our end of the court while our point guard Amari brings the ball up.
Amari calls out the play, which involves a series of staggered screens—blocking moves that helps a teammate escape their defender. In the WNBA, where everyone is so physically strong and has a high basketball IQ, the plays are fluid and complex, so there are several options for the offense.
As part of the sequence, our forward Marisa throws up a screen for Sarah against her defender. But when Sarah catches a pass from Amari and dribbles toward the basket, she flicks the ball toward me instead of taking the shot herself.
Lakisha seems surprised that I have the ball, so I don’t waste a second—draining the eleven-foot jumper.
This time Lakisha doesn’t do any cute gestures, and neither do I.
“Feeling yourself today?” Sarah says to me as we jog back to get in position for the next Cleveland throw-in.
Cleveland manages to score this time. Amari brings the ball down to our end as we all get set. I’m on the perimeter along the three-point line when Amari calls for me to cut past her. She hands off the ball to me and uses her body to keep Lakisha from following me cleanly.
Opening me up for a clear three-point shot. I take it and…
Swish.
Seven points within less than eighty seconds on the game clock.
When the first quarter ends a short bit later, Wendy playfully pulls on my pony tail. “That was some pretty stuff, Parker.”
We huddle with the coaches for the quarter break, and I check in with myself. That locked-in feeling? Still there.
Something inside me calms at an even deeper level.
A confidence that I can impose my will on this game is no longer a desire, but a belief.
“Parker, stay out there for the next quarter,” Coach Anker directs.
