Gabi Morales

38

Gabi Morales (#44) slowly blinked her eyes open, the world around her a blur of bright lights and shadows. Her head throbbed as she tried to sit up, but the pain in her knee was overwhelming. The last thing she remembered was charging the basket, taking the hit, and then… darkness. She was back in the locker room now, the sound of voices’ muffled, their movements slow and distant. A few minutes passed before she felt the cool weight of an ice pack on her knee, and the realization of what had happened hit her hard—she’d been knocked out cold. The game against the Boston Novas had turned brutal in the first half. Gabi, always one to play with intensity, had been running the floor, fighting for position when Boston’s power forward took an elbow to the chest. Gabi had braced herself, but she hadn’t expected the hard collision to send her to the ground with such force. She was unconscious as they carted her off the court, a team of medical staff and trainers following behind. Now, as she sat, staring at the floor of the locker room, she saw Imani Carter (#21) taking her spot on the court on the tv screen. The young forward had filled in admirably, using her speed and agility to get into position, but Gabi couldn’t help the burning frustration in her chest. It wasn’t that she wasn’t happy for Imani, it was that she knew her own time on the court was slipping away. Coach Langston came in a few moments later, her expression serious. “How you feelin’?” Gabi looked at her coach, struggling to hide the mix of anger and helplessness. “My knee feels like it’s on fire.” “You’ll heal,” Coach said firmly. “You’ll be out a few weeks. Work on what you can while you’re off the floor. And when you return, you’ll be ready to take that starting spot again.” Gabi nodded, though her heart still burned with the desire to get back out there. She’d have to do it the hard way now—recovery, rehab, and watching from the sidelines as someone else took her place.

Riley Donovan

33

Riley Donovan (#57) wasn’t supposed to make it this far. She didn’t come from a flashy program or a basketball family with connections. She came from a small town in Ohio, where her first real competition was her two older brothers in their driveway. They never took it easy on her, knocking her around, blocking her shots, and making her fight for every bucket. It toughened her up, made her scrappy, and taught her to play through contact. In college, she wasn’t a star—just a solid, dependable player on a mid-major team. No scouts came knocking. No draft buzz. But she wasn’t done with the game. She took a long shot, walking into an open tryout for the Zephyrs, knowing the odds were slim. What got her through? The same thing that kept her going against her brothers—she never backed down. She made the roster, but as a deep bench player. Riley didn’t sulk. She made herself useful—hustling in practice, keeping energy high on the bench, and earning the respect of her teammates. Denise Ng liked her work ethic. Tierra Jackson liked that she didn’t complain. Even Coach Langston, tough to impress, saw something in her. Then came the slump. Mikayla Thornton, the starting shooting guard, hit a rough patch—turnovers, missed shots, bad reads. A few losses later, Coach Langston made the call. “Riley, you’re in.” She didn’t overthink it. Just played like she always had—hard-nosed defense, smart passes, taking the right shots. By the end of the game, she wasn’t just a backup anymore. She belonged. Walking off the court, Denise clapped her on the back. “Told you you’d get your shot.” Riley smirked. “Yeah. Now let’s see if I can keep it.”

Tierra Jackson

20

The GM of the San Diego Zephyrs had been following Tierra Jackson’s career for years. As a former player turned GM, you knew talent when you saw it—and Tierra was nothing short of spectacular. A dominant forward at the University of Georgia, Tierra had the power, agility, and leadership to carry a team. She could single-handedly control a game and put up numbers that would make any scout salivate. But it wasn’t her on-court skills that made her a risk—it was her off-court behavior. Tierra was known for her fiery personality and her ability to stir up drama. Rumors of locker room conflicts, post-game altercations, and an overall rebellious streak clouded her reputation. She wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, and that made many teams wary. When the WNBA passed on her, many pointed to her volatile nature and tendency to clash with authority figures. But you saw something others didn’t—a player who needed the right environment to thrive. The Zephyrs weren’t just looking for another star; they needed someone who could go toe-to-toe with the league’s brightest star, Caitlin Clark. San Diego was aiming to become competitive right from the start, and you knew that Tierra could be the counterbalance to Caitlin’s shooting prowess, an inside powerhouse to complement the league’s most lethal outside threat. Your pitch to Tierra was straightforward: “We need you to be the centerpiece of our franchise. You have the game. You have the passion. The Zephyrs need both.”

Hannah Caldwell

11

Hannah Caldwell (#16) never expected to skip the WNBA. She had spent years grinding at the University of Nebraska, proving herself as one of the most dominant post players in college basketball. Scouts took notice—her rebounding, defensive presence, and relentless drive had drawn interest from multiple WNBA teams. But there was one problem: they didn’t see her as a star. She wasn’t a flashy scorer or a modern stretch big—she was an enforcer, a dominant presence in the paint, built for physicality. WNBA teams showed interest, but they saw her as a backup to a veteran star or wanted her to adapt to a perimeter-focused system that didn’t suit her strengths. Sitting on the bench or stretching her game beyond what felt natural didn’t sit right with her. Then came Coach Valerie Langston. The San Diego Zephyrs’ head coach had built her AHL roster around physical dominance in the post, and she didn’t just want Hannah—she needed her. Langston personally reached out, skipping the usual formalities. “You’re not just a piece here,” she told Hannah. “You’re our foundation.” That was all it took. Instead of waiting for the WNBA draft, Hannah made the bold move to sign with the Zephyrs, becoming the team’s anchor in the paint. But the Aurora Hoops League was no cakewalk. Every night, she was going up against the best post players amongst the AHL. Against the Iowa Lightning, there was Morgan Kane (#11), a center with a mean streak who thrived on getting under her opponent’s skin. Against the Seattle Nebula, there was Lisa Germann (#42), a relentless center who refused to give an inch.

Denise Ng

10

Denise Ng (#9) dribbled up the court, scanning the defense. The San Diego Zephyrs were locked in a brutal first half against the Iowa Lightning at their home court, the American Eagle Arena, and the game had already turned into a bruising battle. Coach Valerie Langston, a no-nonsense strategist, had built the Zephyrs around the dominance of Tierra Jackson (#33), their power forward, and Hannah Caldwell (#16), their tenacious center. Denise knew her role—feed the post, space the floor, and pick her moments. But Iowa wasn’t making it easy. Their guards pressed full court, forcing rushed passes, and their center, Morgan Kane (#11), was holding her ground against Hannah in the paint. The defensive pressure was palpable, and every inch of space seemed contested. Midway through the second half, Denise saw an opening. With a burst of speed, she drove inside, weaving past one defender. Just as she prepared to go up for a layup, she was met by a hard body check from Iowa’s Jada Reynolds (#6). The ball slipped from her hands, and as she scrambled to regain control, Jada and Tierra Jackson were already tangled up, shoving for position. The whistle blew, and the crowd erupted in reaction. The court-side official immediately called a foul on Jada Reynolds for the excessive contact. As the players exchanged heated words, the tension in the arena rose. Coach Langston was already on her feet, barking orders from the sideline. “Tierra, get your head in the game,” she shouted. “Stay disciplined and play through the physicality.”