Mo’ne Davis calls for the ball. She drains a three, holding her follow-through for a second longer as she and a teammate battle two others for most threes made during a drill. “BOOM!” the boys on the sideline shout. Davis, wearing white and chrome Nike Kobe A.D.s, scurries around the perimeter, releasing shot after shot. “They cheatin’!” Davis hollers, waving her arms and hip-checking one of her opponents. She pops three more in a row. “Oh yeaaaaahhhh,” she says, bouncing up and down, sensing victory.
Davis has been knocking down shots at Philadelphia’s Marian Anderson Recreation Center with these same boys—her teammates on the Anderson Monarchs, a youth recreational team—for the past eight years. The center’s gym, with its four rows of brown bleachers, its cream-colored wall tile and its green and white scoreboard, has long been home to the 15-year-old—since before she became an American sensation in 2014 as the first girl to pitch a shutout in the Little League World Series; before she starred in Spike Lee’s Chevrolet commercial; before she couldn’t walk anywhere without fans approaching her for pictures.
Gabby Williams swatted a shot. The ball landed in the hands of Kia Nurse, who blazed upcourt and dished to Katie Lou Samuelson in the post, who then whipped a one-handed pass to Williams at the rim for the and-1 layup.
Up by 14 in the first quarter against No. 20 South Florida on Tuesday, the Huskies drew more blood. On the next play, Napheesa Collier intercepted a pass, dove on the floor to retrieve the ball and threw it ahead to SaniyaChong on the break. Chong dropped the ball to Samuelson for a layup in what would become a 102-37 massacre.
This is how the Huskies, who tied their previous streak of 90 that night, squeeze the soul of teams: There is no letup between possessions, between games, between seasons.
Canada was sick of the missed layups. She and her Windward School prep teammates gasped for air, unable to make seven in a minute on both sides in the full-court drill. Windward coach Vanessa Nygaard, a former Stanford and WNBA player, signaled to keep sprinting.
Canada, motioning for her teammates to clear out and rebound for her, zoomed off. “Jordin was like, ‘I’m going. I’m taking every layup,'” said Nygaard, who doubted one player could accomplish the feat alone. “She dominated it.”
It wasn’t always that way. Unable to dribble as a 6-year-old, Canada was easy prey for the taller kids. “I was always afraid. I would pick the ball up and I would just hold it. I’d panic and crunch down and they would all trap me,” Canada said. “My coach would always have to call a timeout.”
Her coach told her that she’d have to play point guard and learn to take care of the ball. “She didn’t want it,” said Joyce Canada, Jordin’s mother. “She wanted to shoot.”
J.J. Redick doesn’t wait. As DeAndre Jordan swats the opening tip to the Clippers, Redick dashes across the baseline as if gold awaits on the other side. Within seconds, he bolts past his defender to knock down a pull-up jump-shot against the Cavaliers on March 13.
“He’s a freak of nature,” said Pelicans forward Ryan Anderson, Redick’s former Magic teammate. “I can’t think of one person that’s in better shape than J.J.”
Redick soon nets nine of L.A’s first 14 points, as he squeezes into the lane for a floater, drills another shot off the dribble and then pops a three in the corner.
Ten years into his NBA career, Redick has evolved into a more dynamic shooter, matching a career-best 16.4 points, 1.9 rebounds and 1.4 assists a night. He has a blistering 47.5 percent from three and 47.9 percent from the field as the glue of the playoff-bound Clippers. That’s because with every shot he releases and every drill he completes, Redick increases expectations for himself. He must exceed his output each time he steps on the floor.
Kyle Allman sprinted toward the basket on a fastbreak. He didn’t care that Washington’s Markelle Fultz, considered by some to be the No. 1 2017 NBA Draft pick, trailed closely during a non-conference game in November.
Receiving the pass from point guard Lionheart Leslie, Allman leapt toward the sky, hammering the ball over Fultz for the dunk. Though Allman was blocked, the 6-foot-3, 175-pound Brooklyn, N.Y., native landed undeterred, as his motto has always been: attack, attack, attack.
“He’s just a dog, man,” said guard Jamal Smith, shaking his head, praising Allman’s competitiveness. “He always wants to be that Alpha.”
UCLA basketball benchwarmers Josiah Johnson and Quinn Hawking didn’t think they’d sub in. It was way, way too early, as 15 minutes remained in the 2003 game against powerhouse Arizona, whose lead ballooned to 20. Rarely rising from the bench, Johnson and Hawking usually shimmied, swayed and stomped for teammates like future NBA players Matt Barnes, Trevor Ariza and Jason Kapono. They discovered the best camera angles in timeout huddles in hopes of appearing on TV after the commercial break.
“They called themselves ‘The S— Crew,'” said Brian Morrison, who played for the Bruins from 2002–05. “They entertained everybody.”