Reporters box each other out, jockeying for position, their arms outstretched with recorders, their bodies shoulder to shoulder. One woman complains that a man, over six feet tall, is blocking her view. He turns around, angrily, and refuses to budge. Members of the antsy crowd need the best view of Ball, the one who throws bullet passes 94 feet; the one who weaves through traffic with be-quick-but-don’t-hurry speed; the one who has been anointed savior of the NBA‘s most storied franchise. It’s Lakers media day, in late September, but it could have been called “Lonzo Day.” He’s here. The 19-year-old is wearing his black ZO2 Prime Remix sneakers below a grape-colored sleeve over his knee and calf. “My swag pad,” he says, smiling with all of his teeth, calm in a way only he can be: reserved, yet warm; cold-blooded competitive, yet composed.
Going one-on-one, McRae slips, her legs nearly scissoring into splits, but recovers to score. She dances in front of the net while El-Amin Gateward snaps each pose with an imaginary camera. “Give ’em face, Sis!” El-Amin Gateward screams in delight. “Give ’em face!” That two black girls are celebrating their lacrosse skills — honed enough to take them to college — is something of a rarity. Lacrosse is played in predominantly white, affluent areas. At the NCAA level, 86.4 percent of Division I women’s lacrosse players in 2015-16 were white, while just 2.8 percent were black.