Something magical happens when a girl touches a basketball for the first time. Power is in her palms. She can do anything, be anything. When she is on the court, she doesn’t have to shrink. She can call a play as loud as she wants. And she can count on the court. The court never changes. It is the same when she arrives on a Monday, a Friday. To love basketball, as a young girl, is to love something in a way that only other young-girl hoopers can understand. It’s different from family love. Different from friend love. Different from relationship love. It’s a deep-down love that resists explanation. Gianna “Gigi” Bryant had that deep-down love.
Sabrina Ionescu woke in a panic. She didn’t know if she was still dreaming or awake. Whoa, she thought to herself. What’s going on? It took her a few seconds on this recent night to calm down, to gather herself. To realize she had been dreaming. But she couldn’t let the dream go. Lying under her covers in bed, she replayed it in her head. Every detail, every sound, haunted her. Especially that laugh. She kept hearing Gigi Bryant’s laugh in the dream. That sweet, high-pitched laugh that could jolt joy into the grumpiest of souls.
Jalen Green can’t go to Fashion Fair Mall here in Fresno, California, without fans spotting him. “Is that Jalen Green?!” they scream. He smiles and nods shyly as they rush to his side, looking like ants next to his gangly 6’6″-and-still-growing frame. “Can we get a picture, Jalen?!” Kids at his school, San Joaquin Memorial, take pictures of him even when he’s not looking, thinking he doesn’t see them. But he does. He’s keenly aware of the eyes that are always on him, the arms that are always reaching for him.