27 years: the montage edition

27 years. We all we got; we all we need. We all we are; we all we ever, ever were. 

27 years. Roll the tape. And then let's look at the outtakes. 

I start at the beginning, because that's where we started. There is not enough we can do or say for those who dropped the best of their years down the chasm, for whom our beginning was closer to their ending. No number of trophies won by other people can make up for that. There isn't a throng of cheering fans big enough to fill the little gyms in Italy, in Germany, in Japan, in Russia, in other spots all over the world from before Brooklyn was even an option.

They laid the foundation. This 2024 team reached the pinnacle. But you don't get from the foundation to the pinnacle without the floors in the middle. There's history there too, as much as it hurts to look at it. We are not who we are without them, either. 

Because there were Huskies in New York before Breanna Stewart, after Rebecca Lobo. There's something of Kiah Stokes, her old teammate, in the authority of her blocks. There's something of Swin Cash in the imperious tilt of her chin and the swift sure movements of long arms and long legs. There's something of Tina Charles in her, the craving to prove herself on the biggest stage she calls home, even as she's already proven her personal bona fides elsewhere; there too, is Orange County's own Stefanie Dolson and Suffolk County's own Bria Hartley. Pull the camera back a little, and coming home is nothing new to this franchise, from Long Island's Sue Wicks to Manhattan's Bethany Donaphin to the Bronx's Kia Vaughn to Brooklyn's Tanisha Wright. Look shallower into the numbers. We've seen #30 pulling down hard-earned rebounds before as Shea Mahoney fought for boards at MSG, as DeTrina White cleaned the glass on the stage at Radio City. #30's gone from Katelan Redmon on the bench to Katie Smith playing the final leg of her legendary career. We've seen #30 commanding the huddle before, Tanisha Wright pulling the team around her and forcing them to believe. After Breanna, we may never see it again. 

If anyone understands the heavy weight of legacy, it's Betnijah Laney-Hamilton, a player's daughter, a coach's goddaughter. Being in the second generation is nothing new to she who played on the banks of the Raritan, already familiar with the shadows of Sue Wicks and Cappie Pondexter even before her winding road took her to New York. But when she steps out on the floor, the echoes that answer are Essence Carson's and Erica Wheeler's, bringing the defense, willing to sacrifice on the offensive end for the good of the team. I can hardly think of two players less alike than Betnijah and Tamika Whitmore... until I look at the #44 on the front of the jersey. Pull back the focus, off the court to the sounds of someone enthusiastically singing Beyoncé: is that Betnijah or is that Kia Vaughn? In her glitz and glamour while injured, she invokes DiDi Richards, Tiffany Jackson, Shameka Christon. 

If you know your history, and I mean the deep lore, you know who Big 20 is. You know how long he's been with the Liberty, even before he was a Timeless Torch. And maybe the #20 is for Sabrina Ionescu now. But those who were there when the deep magic was written know that #20 was originally for Shameka Christon. Shameka was supposed to be the star who, buttressed and taught by the veterans around her, would take the Liberty to the next level. She was supposed to be the next generation. Instead, her fate was inextricably entangled with that of Cappie Pondexter, a superstar combo guard who could either score in bunches or make herself a selfless passer, but in so many ways never found a balance. Cappie chose New York, and then chose not to choose it. Sabrina, the superstar combo guard looking for- and more and more often finding- that on-court balance between volume scorer and selfless passer, was chosen by New York, and then chose New York. And so #20 goes from the historical footnote of Stacey Ford, to Shameka's potential frustrated and squandered, to Sabrina's ascendance as the star who brought the Liberty to the next level. 

The echoes are a little harder to pinpoint for Courtney Vandersloot, at least until the intros start and the vowels start getting drawn out: Suuuuuuuue, Spooooooooooon, Schuuuuuuuueyyyyyy, Kraaaaaaaaaay, Ekuuuuuuuunwe, Slooooooot. Maybe it's because so much of her history belongs to other cities, like Katie Smith's did, like Swin Cash's did, like Taj McWilliams-Franklin's did. Maybe it's because she's so far from the Evergreen State that made her, following in the footsteps of Leilani Mitchell and Alex Montgomery and Cathrine Kraayeveld. Maybe it's because #22 has so often belonged to easy smiles like Lindsey Yamasaki's and Jessica Bibby's, or the big personalities of Ashley Battle and DeMya Walker, and that's not the vibe for someone who tries to avoid all encounters with people. And maybe that's right for the quintessential pass-first leader: you find her by finding the connections around her. 

Jonquel Jones is one-of-one in so many ways, but the simplest is this: no one else has worn #35 in the regular season for the New York Liberty. Let her stay, let her keep rising, and maybe no one else ever will. The parallels aren't as elegant; the path isn't as smooth. She's not the first from the Atlantic 10, both old and new; before her came Quanitra Hollingsworth and Ta'Shia Phillips. She's not the first from the islands; before her there was Antigua's own Desiree Francis, and before either of them was one of our first, Simone Edwards, the Jamaican Hurricane, and may her memory be a blessing as bright and joyous as she ever was. In her astonishing passing eye, in the angles no center seems to have a right to find, there's a trace of Janel McCarville. In JJ's unabashed, unfettered, unrelenting pride, there too is an echo of Shavonte Zellous, and they've both picked up their pens to write about it. 

#35 is one-of-one as a jersey number for the New York Liberty. #13 is far from it. #13's been there since the beginning, from our neglected pioneer Sophia Witherspoon, to Marina Ferragut's soft touch in the paint, to the toughness of Mactabene Amachree, to all that never was for Jocelyn Willoughby. Now it's on the back of Leonie Fiebich, and it's an omen of ill fortune for the guard looking up at her. She's not the first German to find her way to New York; there's always going to be a special place in my heart for the sweetness of Linda Fröhlich, for whom I learned how to type diacritical marks, and for Martina Weber, The One Who Made It for the Iona Gaels. But wind it back. It's a short jump back to the phenomenal defensive flexibility of Natasha Howard, inside and out; it's a longer jump back to the backcourt trapping of Sue Wicks and Becky Hammon driving opposing guards mad. There's something of Elena Baranova and Cathrine Kraayeveld in those corner threes, so unexpected from someone of that height and that build. 

And where you find Leonie, you find Nyara Sabally. Because you always seem to find Nyara as part of a pair, don't you? The two Germans, the two Ducks, the two sisters. Bookends, like K.B. Sharp and Erin Thorn waiting outside Radio City. But let Nyara stand alone, too, straight and tall while a would-be defender bounces off her like water off a Duck's back- and there's Cathrine again, setting a Screen of Death to free up a teammate. There's Carolyn Swords, the big body in the paint, making space as defenders run headlong into that #8 jersey. There's another #8 sliding through the gap thus created, Edwige Lawson-Wade finding the seam for the drive and dish. Listen close to the thunder of the "SA-BA-LLY!" chant and there is a hint, an echo, a trace of "OL-GA! OL-GA!", for Olga Firsova, a folk hero on a smaller scale than Nyara ever was. 

In so many ways, Kayla Thornton fits into the history of this team. #5 has belonged to an eclectic mix of players, from defensive specialist Kisha Ford, to the faded glory of Venus Lacy, to Grace Daley who we don't talk about, to the sharpshooter Erin Thorn, to deceptively diminutive Leilani Mitchell, to the one-year-wonder of Shoni Schimmel, to Chelsea Hopkins, to Kia Nurse. It seems appropriate that Kayla, herself an eclectic mix, should follow in their collective footsteps. But we have to go deeper than the commonality of a jersey number or the alma mater she shares with Natasha Lacy to find Kayla's predecessors. There's something to be said for her off-court unpredictability, the kind of quirkiness that's made Ashley Battle a long-time favorite fondly remembered out of proportion to her skill and role. Go further still, and beneath the lightness of seafoam there has always been steel, deep in the heart. There's Kayla fighting for a loose ball; there's Tiffany Jackson-Jones battling on the glass; there's Plenette Pierson, ferociously boxing out. 

The easiest parallel to Jaylyn Sherrod is Chucky Jeffery, the Colorado alumna who wore 0 before Jaylyn did. Easy- but New York doesn't do easy. Wouldn't have taken 27 years to get here if we did. New York never stops moving, never stops hustling, never gives up. It's no wonder Liberty fans took a shine to Jaylyn and the energy she bursts with. Give us the speedsters who never learned how to stop, blurring behind her like an afterimage as she breaks to the basket: Jazmine Jones, Brittany Boyd, Sydney Colson, Sherill Baker, Jessica Bibby.   Give us the ones who beat the odds, like Erica Wheeler, like Sami Whitcomb, like DeMya Walker, like Becky Hammon, who chose instead of being chosen, seized that chance with both hands, and whether here or elsewhere, raised it up like a trophy to the heavens.

Kennedy Burke's far from the first Bruin to cross the country and lace them up for the Liberty; Lisa Willis and Nikki Blue blazed that trail before her. And her number of choice is far from illustrative, or so we hope; #2 has a star-crossed history, from the misuse of Shay Doron to the warped and twisted intensity of Candice Wiggins to the travails of Adut Bulgak. No, that's not Kennedy's legacy either. We find her precedents on the waiver wire, in long trails of transaction history. We find her in Reshanda Gray pulling down a contested rebound, in Avery Warley-Talbert boxing out a taller opponent, in La'Keshia Frett sending back a shot with extreme prejudice, in the experience of Barbara Farris leading from the bench. We find Kennedy's place within Liberty history in a litany of places, in a suitcase, in a passport stamp.

What do you say of a player you've hardly seen? How do I draw from the past to illustrate Marquesha Davis's present? I can't turn to the surface-level similarities, not when #1 has a history shorter and scanter than almost any number not in the Ring of Honor thanks to Maddie wearing it for so long, not when the only other Rebel we've had was of the Nevadan variety. Among the youngest of our players, we look not to the future, but to the concept of the future, to everything we've ever hoped for our first-round picks, whether they soared like Shameka Christon, or were cruelly grounded like AD Durr, or were potential we never developed like Toni Young. In that slow Southern drawl, there's echoes too: Shameka again, another daughter of the Gemstone State; Tupelo's own Tamika Whitmore; so many others who called the Southeast home. 

We got to see flashes of what Ivana Dojkić showed more consistently elsewhere. Is it fair to try and fit her into place based solely on those? Two simple ties anchor her to Liberty history: the second #18, following Lorela Cubaj; the second Croatian, following Korie Hlede. I keep wanting to look deeper. Surely there's a better match. If the bigger picture doesn't work, snapshots will: the 14-point win against Chicago, where we needed every one of her 12 points and her single steal. "Next man up": everyone has their day, like Stefanie Dolson going completely unconscious from three, like Erin Thorn and the two halfcourt heaves, like Bethany Donaphin and the jump shot. It's a good day when you don't need that kind of day, but there's something to be said for those who stay ready. 

A lot of Liberty fans were politely bemused during the championship celebrations when Rebekah Gardner was brought out on stage with the rest of the team, despite never spending a second on the active roster. But they also serve who stand and wait, or so Milton wrote. (John, not DeLisha.) There's Kamiko Williams in the stands with her crutches; there's Carolyn Jones-Young, working her way back through an ACL tear, more known in Liberty history for who she wasn't than what she ever did; there's Simone Edwards on the developmental roster, watching, learning, waiting. Bek had to do a lot of waiting, too, waiting and working overseas for most of her prime until she finally got a chance to play in the US at 31. So many of the originals can relate to that; after all, in 1997, they were all rookies, even 31-year-olds like Trena Trice and Teresa Weatherspoon. And it's almost become a recurring joke how often players who share her name, albeit in a more familiar spelling, have found their way to New York: Rebecca Richman in the draft, Rebecca Allen through international free agency, Rebecca Hammon as a legendarily undrafted rookie (even if she does persist in going by Becky)... and we end where we began, the last to the first: Rebecca Lobo, one of the first players to put faith in the WNBA, one of the first to wear Lady Liberty's torch over her heart. 

So roll the tape. And then look between the frames. Between Kym and Nyara posting up, you might catch a glimpse of Jessica Davenport. Between Spoon's braids and Jaylyn's locks flying in the air, you might see Loree Moore's braids whip around. Off camera, between Sloot's pass and Crystal's finish, maybe Kara Braxton's screening off a defender. Pan instead of cut. Pull the camera back. 

History can be a chain if we let it be, if we let six years and one year define all twenty-seven. Looking too far to the past risks overlooking the moments in the middle, the ones that have shaped this team as much as any others. The zenith at Barclays would not be as high without the nadir of Westchester; the championship would not be as sublime without the ridiculousness of Radio City; the homecoming to Brooklyn would never have felt so sweet without the years in Newark. This title belongs, first and foremost, to the players who earned it on the floor, and then to those they choose to share it with. But we can't say that only the trailblazers matter. It's a disservice to the players who were never given the chance to enjoy the bright lights to leave them in the shadows. We all we got/we all we need means all.

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27 years: the jump cut edition

27 years. We all we got; we all we need. We all we are; we all we ever, ever were.

27 years. Roll the tape. And then let's go behind the scenes.

It's 1997. I'm 12 years old. My mother, the sports fan in the family, is dragging me to MSG for the New York Liberty's first ever home game. The place is almost sold out. The energy is through the roof. Michele Timms's platinum hair shines so bright under the lights. The Liberty win.

It's 2024. I'm 40 years old. Barclays Center is sold out to the rafters. The energy is through the roof. The lights are so bright. The Liberty win.

It's 1998. My mom and I are bringing friends to games to have something in common with them. G goes to one; T goes to another.

It's 2024, and T and I are both season subscribers, connecting after close to twenty years out of contact. She meets my husband; I meet her wife.

It's 1999. Rebecca Lobo plants, twists, crashes. The Garden shakes and goes quiet, unable to process.

It's 2024. Rebecca Lobo is courtside at the broadcast table, quiet, unable to process. Barclays is shaking and roaring.

It's 1999. A pass-first, defensive-minded point guard has just hit the most iconic shot the franchise has ever seen.

It's 2024. A shoot-first, offensive-minded point guard is making the right pass at the right time and playing one of the best defensive games of her life.

It's 2001. Our front office is expecting us to believe that the only lesbian associated with the New York Liberty is Carol Blazejowski.

It's 2024. The Finals MVP is at center court kissing the adorably tiny woman she's going to marry one of these days, and two of her teammates have their wives on court to celebrate with them.

It's 2002. Sue Wicks is hitting a corner three, anything to keep her team alive in this game. It's not enough, and two days later Nikki Teasley drives home the dagger to send the Liberty home as bridesmaids again.

It's 2024. Sue Wicks is sitting, and mostly standing, courtside, to see the Liberty no longer be left as bridesmaids.

It's 2003. The game against the Comets hasn't started yet and we're hanging out at the Garden, fans just talking and telling stories as the players arrive for shootaround. I'm collecting autographs; he's trying to pick up a girl.

It's 2024. He's asleep in our bed, wrapped in my favorite quilt. The other girl has moved from another country to another state, but she flies out for every Finals game in New York, and after Game 5 we meet her girlfriend.

It's 2003. Liberty fans are irrationally superstitious about the new blue jerseys.

It's 2024. Liberty fans are irrationally superstitious about the new white jerseys.

It's 2004. A'riel is seven days old, the tiniest speck of a human slung in a papoose on her mother's broad back as they ride the escalator to the club seats.

It's 2024. A'riel is a junior in college. She wears her mother's number, she has her mother's eyes, and thanks to conference realignment, she'll visit her mother's alma mater in 2025.

It's 2004. The Liberty and the Shock are playing the first game at Radio City. Detroit's Swin Cash chases a loose ball upstage right and upstages herself straight into the orchestra pit.

It's 2024. Former Liberty player and front office exec Swin Cash pulls Teresa Weatherspoon into the spotlight, choosing to be upstaged.

It's 2004. Bethany Donaphin hits a little jumper and sends the Garden into ecstatic chaos.

It's 2024. Bethany Donaphin works for the league office, and there's a woman in a pink suit who looks an awful lot like her trying to bring order to the ecstatic post-game chaos.

It's 2005. We're hanging out down by the rail, getting autographs and wishing our players good luck. Cards are still at the fringe of being cheap, and I bring extras for the kids.

It's 2024. One of those kids has, for reasons I still don't understand, moved to Kentucky. He's hosting a viewing party for Game 5 at his house. There's 40 people there. He's not one of them. He flew home to be with his people, in that place, at that time, for that moment.

It's 2006. The official Liberty website is telling us to push our Robinson and Baranova jerseys to the back of the closet because the players have moved on.

It's 2024. Crystal Robinson is wearing her jersey on a championship float coming down the Canyon of Heroes, reunited with her teammates. There isn't a closet in sight.

It's 2007. The kids are trying. They love each other, but it's not enough.

It's 2024. They're not kids, but they're trying. They love each other. It's finally enough.

It's 2008. Essence Carson, growing into a fan favorite, brings the trademark Rutgers lock-down defense.

It's 2024. Betnijah Laney-Hamilton, long grown into a fan favorite, brings the trademark Rutgers lock-down defense.

It's 2009. The Liberty earn the #1 pick in the 2010 WNBA draft. Except that they don't hold the pick. They traded it months ago, traded it to Los Angeles for Sidney Spencer. LA doesn't hold it either; they've already sent it elsewhere to bring home Noelle Quinn. It's 2009 and the #1 pick for 2010 is in the hands of the Minnesota Lynx.

(It's 2010. Minnesota doesn't hold the pick anymore either. They're bringing home Lindsay Whalen with it, sending the #1 and Renee Montgomery to Connecticut for the favorite daughter of the Gopher State.)

It's 2009. The Sacramento Monarchs fold, and we still miss them. The Liberty take Nicole Powell first overall in the dispersal draft. The Lynx take Rebekkah Brunson with the next pick.

It's 2009. This team is going to kill me one of these days. I just hope I die happy.

It's 2024. this team is trying to kill me but what else is new

It's 2010. I'm combing stray newspapers on the train, looking for anything more than an AP blurb or a half-hearted mini-article about my team.

It's 2024. Kayla Thornton is screaming in joy on the front cover of the New York Post, the city's most right-wing newspaper.

It's 2011. The WNBA is pushed aside to make way for "offseason" renovations at MSG.

It's 2024. The NBA moves aside to make room for the WNBA.

It's 2012. It's 2013. We're slogging to New Jersey, through New Jersey. It's a blur, a dull march on a treadmill to nowhere.

It's 2024. We're on a train in Brooklyn, a fast-moving blur. It's New York or nowhere.

It's 2014. We're trading with Connecticut for a former MVP, proud daughter of Caribbean heritage, who says she wants to be in New York. We gamble three years of first-round picks on her. It doesn't work.

It's 2024. We've traded with Connecticut for a former MVP, proud daughter of the Caribbean, who says she wants to be in New York. We've sent away three players for her. It works.

It's 2015. We're choking away a 15-point lead to the Fever. We can't put them away that night. We don't put them away. One of the best seasons in Liberty history ends in the semifinals.

It's 2024. We're choking away an 18-point lead to the Lynx. We can't put them away that night. But we put them away. It ends with a trophy.

It's 2016. One of the best seasons in Liberty history comes down to a winner-take-all game at home. Phoenix springs the second-round upset and it's over.

It's 2017. One of the best seasons in Liberty history comes down to a winner-take all game at home. Washington springs the second-round upset and it's over.

It's 2024. One of the best seasons in Liberty history comes down to a winner-take-all game at home. Minnesota digs deep. New York digs deeper and it's over.

It's 2018. We're playing in Westchester County Center. There isn't a good seat in the house. The concession stands are occasionally on fire. The lighting is dim and the acoustics are terrible. The train back to the city runs once an hour and leaves five minutes before the end of a typical regulation game. Bee-Line buses back to the subway are cheaper, but make getting home a multi-hour ordeal.

It's 2024. We're playing at the Barclays Center. The seats are good. The concession stands are fire. The lights are bright and the sounds are loud. Half the trains in the city connect to bring everyone here, to bring everyone home.

It's 2019. No one wants to be in the shitty church basement. The fans don't or can't; the seats are half empty. The players don't; they're going through the motions on the floor.

It's 2024. There isn't an empty seat in the house. This is the place everyone wants to be.

It's 2020. We're all scared and alone and confused and worried. And also Sabrina Ionescu is lying on the court holding her ankle, in case Liberty fans needed a more concrete metaphor for the loss of hope.

It's 2024. Sabrina's lying on the court holding her face. In the stands, we're together and relieved and overjoyed.

It's 2021. The arenas are refilling, slowly, carefully. We're still collectively feeling our way through a changed world.

It's 2024. The arenas are full. We're collectively feeling our way through a changed world.

It's 2023. Role players step up for the best team in the league, and the Las Vegas Aces celebrate a title on the floor of Barclays Center.

It's 2024. Role players step up for the best team in the league, and the New York Liberty celebrate a title on the floor of Barclays Center.

It's 2024. I am a relieved 40-year-old woman, and I love this team.

It's 2024. I am an overjoyed 12-year-old girl, and I love this team.

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February 17th, 2019: Marquette at Seton Hall

Just the Facts, Ma'am: Marquette took advantage of a short-handed Seton Hall squad on Senior Day to get back on track with a resounding 109-63 win. Natisha Hiedeman exploded for 34 points to lead the Golden Eagles, while Danielle King added 20 points and 12 assists. Desiree Elmore had 21 points and eight rebounds to lead the Hall.

For smol seniors, angry seniors, bringing a sophomore to a senior fight, celebrating seniors, and generally lots of things involving seniors, join your intrepid and unprepared blogger after the jump.

Someday I will get a game's worth of notes finished before having to move on to the next one, but today is not that day, beause today is Senior Day at Seton Hall and I have been ambushed by Feels Right To The Heart.

There are a lot of things I like about Tony Bozzella, but one of the best is the tradition he carried over from Iona (and possibly points prior, but my acquaintance with Tony started in New Rochelle) of honoring all the seniors on Senior Day. Not just players, not just managers. Everyone. So before the acknowledgement of the senior managers and the four senior Pirates, there were red roses for the six Marquette seniors, and during a timeout there were roses for the seniors in cheer, dance, and band. That is a classy touch that not enough places do, in my not so humble opinion.

At some point in the near future there will be an outpouring of feelings about Tori and Kaity and Inja and Coley, but they deserve more space than this. But I want to talk about Marquette's seniors, too, because in this amazing class I see parallels to the program-defining classes at St. John's and Seton Hall. What Allazia Blockton, Sandra Dahling, Erika Davenport, Natisha Hiedeman, Danielle King, and Amani Wilborn have done at Marquette to build that program is nothing short of astonishing, and it's been a pleasure and a privilege to watch them do so. The Big East is better when everyone is better, and while I of course want to see my Johnnies and my Pirates paste them whenever possible, I also want to see the rise of programs that care about women's basketball, that turn the corner from "well, we have to" to "yes, we want to". Build on this, Marquette. Take this opportunity with both hands and don't let it fall apart. Xavier did that. Xavier had an Elite Eight team once upon a time, and now they're the conference doormat. Don't do that.

So, yeah, it's 49-26 Marquette at halftime, and Natisha Hiedeman has expressed her opinion of both her performance against St. John's and her resultant benching with 14 points and some defensive picks that are pretty impressive for a non-football school. Seton Hall is attempting two offenses, the "force it to Shadeen" offense (which is not nearly as effective when the role of Shadeen Samuels is being played by Desiree Elmore for this performance) and the "AAAAHHH they're all taller than we are, better chuck threes!" offense, and y'all know my feelings on living by the three.

I've never had someone check my tickets at Seton Hall; as far as I know it's general admission? Worked out okay, since our season tickets do happen to be in our preferred section by the band. All the cool kids hang out with the band, don't you know?

Welp. That was a thing that happened. I can't say I'm terribly surprised, since Shadeen was out injured and Marquette had something to prove, but it felt like it was being rubbed in by the fourth quarter. I get it. Marquette is really good and we brought underclassmen to a senior fight. But at some point, you can stop letting the player with all the points jack threes. Your intrepid blogger is currently ensconced in the Chancellor's Suite in the basement of one of the on-campus buildings, which means I have no data connection, which means I am an intrepid and absolutely cut-off-from-the-universe blogger because Seton Hall is the one place I don't have the wi-fi password. I'm pretty sure Kena Richardson's family just joined our table, which, hi Kena! We were at the draft that year! Yep. And we now share the bond of being mildly embarrassed by Tony shouting us out unexpectedly in a speech.

Sandra Dahling got off the bench with about five minutes left in the game, and the best shot she had spun out of the basket; you could see how deflated Marquette's bench was when it fell out of the basket. I didn't realize she was a point guard, for some reason. Chloe Marotta got good looks in the basket in the fourth quarter, especially off of offensive rebounds. She's raw, and she has to work on her hands and feet, but she's promising as a freshman. Lauren Van Kleunen still looks like she's trying to figure out what she should be doing on the floor. She's tall, but she doesn't seem to have found a position, and that's in the tweener sense, not in the versatility sense.

I actually really liked what I saw out of Altia Anderson defensively. She needs a lot of work on her offense- she's all knees and elbows and angles- but she knows how to get her hands up and make trouble in the paint, and with all the offensive firepower Marquette has this year, maybe that's all they needed from her. She's going to need to develop more next year for them, though. Allazia Blockton still doesn't look right. She got off some shots in the fourth quarter, but overall she doesn't look right. Her confidence is missing. Her explosiveness is missing. This is a shadow of the Allazia Blockton who terrorized the Big East for three years.

Natisha Hiedeman did not start the game, presumably in response to getting schooled by the STJ defense, and proceeded to torch the everloving hell out of Seton Hall's tiny guards. She got her starting spot back for the second half and continued on her torrid pace. I swear, she was giving us trouble not just because of her height, but because of her hair. We're so short I think we were having trouble seeing over the 'fro. She seemed determined to prove her mastery over every sport in this game- she obviously proved how good she was at basketball, but she also had some mean interceptions (and Marquette doesn't even sponsor football!), set a ball out of bounds, and had two straight kicked balls. We get it, Natisha, you're good at sportsball.

So we've established that Erika Davenport is really good in the paint, right? She wasn't hitting as many of the putbacks as she did on Friday, but she was still killing us on the glass. She works around size really well, which neutralized Selena Philoxy's usual advantages, and our straight-up height was not up to the challenge of facing her. Isabelle Spingola got the start in Hiedeman's place. She shoots three-pointers really well and fairly quickly, but that seems to be her only high-level skill.

Amani Wilborn's defense and physicality are the cornerstones of her game, and her defense was especially on display in this one. She was everywhere where we were, and that was one of the many problems we had in this game. It felt like she was doing a better job of getting to the line than the box score indicates. Selena Lott had a really solid game on both ends of the floor- she had a ruthless block on Inja Butina and got buckets in transition. She's going to be really crucial for the rebuild next year for Marquette.

Marquette looked like they were out to prove they were still who they were, and I think they took it to extremes. I don't think I would have had Hiedeman jacking threes in the fourth. I would have gone to Dahling earlier. That kind of thing.

I have to be careful what I type here, because I'm still sitting in the banquet (oh my GOD TONY I'M GOING TO KILL YOU) and if the wrong person reads over my shoulder you're never going to get GNoD ever again, and there are, like, five drafts on my hard drive. But, uh. Kimi Evans sort of looked like she forgot how to shoot lay-ups out there, just flinging the ball at the basket. And she was tentative on the glass, which is unacceptable at her size. She did well boxing out, but we needed more from her and we got nothing. Whitney Howell got some minutes in the second half (apropos of nothing, I'm not feeling the new haircut) and hit a nice bucket in the lane. I'd like to see her be more aggressive, but she's a freshman. She'll learn. I think. I hope. Selena Philoxy didn't start, since we had all the smol seniors starting, but she played heavy minutes in the paint. She missed what seemed to be a lot of easy looks in the lane, but Marquette was swarming and she was under pressure.

(The tribute video is currently experiencing technical difficulties. So I'm going to leave you with this one-liner from Tony: "We don't measure success by height. Thankfully.")

Kaela Hilaire, I can't even and I am this close to ceding you back to Nassau County. KK has not played well falling behind all the seniors in the rotation, and we need her to step up her game, especially for next year when all those seniors have graduated (super graduated in some cases, I mean, jeez, Kaity, I needed five years just to get most of the way through a BA and you got the advanced degree?). I would dearly like for her to stop committing stupid fouls and start making some of those incredible drives I know she's capable of. Danielle Robinson had a pretty solid game, all things considered. She missed her shots on the inside, but she was one of the few Seton Hall players actually willing to drive the lane, which was refreshing. I like her potential. She needs a lot of work, but I think having to play more with the injuries at the end of the season has helped her develop faster than she would have otherwise this year. She's seeing minutes that aren't necessarily meaningful, but are still live-action and are against serious opponents.

Victoria Cardaci looks scared out there. I don't know if she wasn't ready to start, or if she couldn't deal with Marquette's size (such as it is) or what, but I'm trying to remember if she even got as far as the lane on most of the Pirates' offensive possessions. She made a couple of good defensive plays on the baseline, I'll give her that, but she did not look like she was able to rise to the occasion in this game. Nicole Jimenez was jacking threes, which is her strength, but it seemed like a lot of them were quick, ill-thought-out shots. I'd have to look at the quarter splits, but it feels like she threw up a lot of shots late in the game when we were just desperate for something that looked sort of like offense, and hurried threes were the best thing we could think of. And no, that is not a good thing. Kaity Healy had a nice defensive play in the first quarter and hit a couple of threes, but overall she looked really hesitant.

Desiree Elmore really looked like she was forcing it in the first half, and I'm still not a fan of the offensive style where you just force it in to one player and hope she gets hot at some point. The shots started falling in the second half,but by then we were too far down. I get that we didn't exactly have a lot of options with Shadeen Samuels out with her shoulder injury, but the plan was not working and it's not a good plan. I'm not going after her effort, don't get me wrong- she had the game we needed her to have to even stay competitive. I'm going after the game plan. Inja Butina had a better game than I thought, now looking at the box score. I guess I was just so down on our effort the rest of the night that I overlooked what she did. It did seem like she was forcing shots that she doesn't normally take or were into the teeth of Marquette's defense.

Do I think going with the four seniors as the starting lineup put us in a hole to start the game? Yes. Our seniors are all guards and most of them are very small, which left us with an imbalanced lineup. Would I have been just as upset if we had gone with our more traditional starting lineup and run Lena out there at the start of the game? No, I would have been more upset, because there are things you do on Senior Day, and one of those is give your seniors the start. Now, do I think he ran with Tori a little too long at the outset? Yeah, probably. But you do the right thing by those who have given so much to the game.

Honestly, we probably got away with more fouls than Marquette did. I'm not about to go off on the refs in a game where the margin was so ridiculous I have to do math to figure it out.

This was a perfect storm of disaster in the making. Seton Hall was short-handed, and short. Marquette had an axe to grind and a thirst to prove themselves on national television. We fell into our worst habits and Marquette took advantage. There's no shame in losing to one of the best teams in the conference and the country. But the way we did it was not the Pirate way.

But I'll say this for Walsh: the crowd never gave up, and I'm not just talking about myself and the husband. We weren't always the ones starting the chants. We weren't always the loudest people. That's what I love about Seton Hall fans. That crowd is never quiet.

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(belated) Senior Tributes 2018

I love all my seniors, don't get me wrong. Even the ones I vent my frustrations at, ultimately, I cherish as much as the rest of the squad. You have to be a pretty heinous excuse for a human being, the kind of person whose name will no longer cross my lips, to lose that. And usually those kinds of people get rooted out and tossed out summarily on their ear. Those, I do not miss and do not love; their betrayal is all the more bitter for the loyalty that was given.

But it's okay to love some of them more than others, right? And by a confluence of events, an awful lot of them happen to be in this year's class of seniors. These are young women who I may miss on the court as basketball players, but who I will miss even more as people.

That's the joy of this game: you meet some pretty great people. That's the exquisite pain of this game: you know your time with them is inherently limited.

I tend to bury the lede, in case you haven't noticed. The last shall be first and the first shall be last. I like to build up to what I most want to talk about. So we'll start with the furthest and circle back in to the heart and soul of why I write these tributes in the first place.

Michigan is mine because of their staff, and because of our mutual loathing of Ohio State. We don't get to see them a lot, so when we do, it's always special. This year, though, it's been extra special.

Katelynn Flaherty steals the show when she takes the floor. Her stroke is pure and her drive is unquestioned. We've been able to watch snippets of her run through the Michigan record books, and it's been a pleasure and a privilege to be along for the ride. She's adapted her game to the needs of her team, and not every scorer can do that. Playmaking for other people doesn't come naturally to everyone. She's a bright shining star, the brilliant herald of Michigan's rise.


But if you know why I'm a Michigan fan, and if you know why I wear the jersey I wear, you know who my favorite players are. Sure, give me a pretty jumper if you want. But give me grit. Give me hustle. Give me defense. Give me a head for the game. Give me the willingness to outwork your talent, to outwork your size, to outwork what the numbers say you should be bringing to the floor.

That's Jillian Dunston, jack of all trades, terrifyingly broad-shouldered for a guard, entirely too short for a post. No single element of her game is superlative- but that just means she has to think more about what she's doing on the floor. She works incredibly hard on the floor, usually in as literal a sense as possible as she scrambles for loose balls. I am completely unsurprised that she's in the "So You Want To Be A Coach" program and will be completely unsurprised when she's on a Power 5 staff in three years or less.



Iona only has one senior on the roster this year. And I keep thinking there should be two.

Let me make one thing clear: if Philecia Atkins-Gilmore were still on the Gaels' roster, no power on this earth would have kept me from Iona's Senior Day. Battle of Brooklyn be damned, long haul be damned, uncooperative bus schedules be damned. That date would be circled in red on the calendar. I'd probably even hit the following game, for the sake of it being the last, and walk over to the transit center to get the bus home.

There are a precious few people I have had the privilege of meeting in basketball for whom I would run through walls, whose team is my team and whose enemies are my enemies. Phee is one of those few. She is as determined and energetic a leader as I've ever seen. Even as a freshman she was leading her team on the bench, constantly supporting them, constantly bringing the noise.

I still remember Maryland. Do you remember Maryland? March 2016 was pure magic, pure joy. Everywhere I looked, a team that mattered to me or to a friend (and thus to me) was going dancing. We had three choices that March. We didn't go to Waco with St. John's, and we didn't go to Storrs with Seton Hall. We went with the team we knew was going to lose. We went to Maryland for Iona, because it was the first time, because this was what we had been waiting for. And Maryland did to us exactly what we expected- but Phee went down fighting, shooting three after three.

Injuries robbed her of some of her speed, of some of her motion- and they robbed her coach of her confidence, I'm certain. Phee kept leading from the bench anyway.

And then I looked at the roster at the beginning of the year, and after my initial reactions of "Why is anyone wearing 24?" and "Why is anyone wearing 14?" I noticed a gap between 10 and 14 where 11 should have been. My reaction to that was, shall we say, unprintable and would probably have earned me a ban on Twitter. They react badly to threats of violence, even if I doubt I would follow through with such threats. I'm a talker, not a fighter.

Love for a team is about the name on the front, not the name on the back, but for some people I make an exception. And I might have dropped Iona sooner- except for the days when I spotted Phee sitting behind the bench with the rest of us fans, exhorting her team with the same constant encouragement and advice she gave when she was still in uniform. Despite everything, she believes in this nearly winless team and this trainwreck of a season. And I believe in her.

That's why, if you look up, and you look through my Iona notes, you'll see that I chose my words carefully. Phee's not in uniform. She's not on the roster. But she's still the best leader her team has. And she's still my favorite.


So that leaves one senior on the Gaels' roster, and I'm starting to think Billi Chambers has a soft spot for the late bloomers, the ones who finally figure it out as seniors, when they maybe think they have no choice but to figure it out. It happened with Karynda DuPree, and I think it's happening again with Kristin Mahoney.

Kristin looked scared to even be on the court in the scant minutes she picked up her first few years. There are still times when she looks wide-eyed at the defense coming at her and you can imagine her life flashing before her eyes.

She's had to grow up this year, through one of the toughest seasons a team can have. If the losing grinds her down, I don't blame her one bit. But she gets knocked down and she gets up again. Like any good Iona Gael, she fights the good fight. And along the way, she's found a little bit of her footing. It turns out she's better when she's claling her own number than when she's trying to force things for other players. I'm glad she's figured that out. I want ot see her succeed.

It's been a long year. I wish her nothing but the best.



It's late in the year and the Rams don't have a lot of home games left. But if you have the chance to see G'mrice Davis, go see G'mrice Davis. Watching her rebound is worth the price of admission alone. (That's setting aside the work of her teammates, but most of them aren't seniors, so you'll have to find out about them for yourself.)

On her best days, G'mrice reminds me of Jonquel Jones, long limbs and a growing grace. She doesn't have Jones's outside shot, but what she does have is phenomenal rebounding skill. She seems to fly across the paint to claim the ball, and nothing will stand in her way.. Her relentlessness has allowed her to rise high on Fordham's all-time lists. She is a glory and a joy to watch, and if I have a regret about her it's that I let my distaste for Fordham's style of offense rob me of chances to have seen her in previous years.


About Asnate Fomina I can say little. It's been a rough year for her- she hasn't even had the chance to play, so far from home. She's been a steady hand for us at point when she has played, a good solid player who keeps the team grounded. I'll miss her, and miss the things she brought us, and miss the things she could have brought us.



We haven't had as much time as I think I would have liked with JaQuan Jackson. That's the one thing that's saddening about transfers. You get to know them just enough to wish you could have known them longer.

Fierce is the word that comes to mind for Quanny. There's something intense about her eyes that combines with her high cheekbones and the shape of her jaw and chin to make her stare flat-out terrifying when she puts her mind to it. (It also tends to make her photograph very badly, which is a shame, because she's very striking in person.) You get the sense she can intimidate an opponent just by looking them in the eye and making them back down.

Everything about her on the floor is fierce, whether it's her ability to jump the passing lanes or her relentless offensive assaults. She is passionate and electric and fiery. She's a jolt at the right time, or a lightning storm rolling over the opponent.

Fierce and fiery and indomitable, Quanny is the spearhead of the Seton Hall attack. She's a long way from home, and we're glad she came to join us for the time that she did.



You're probably reading this and thinking I wrote things in the wrong order, because ever since this tangle fell upon us I've held Seton Hall close in my heart, as close as I can without giving up that first and deepest loyalty I hold to St. John's.

But there's something about this LIU class of '18 that's special, something I can't help but love, something that calls out to the things I love about basketball. Yes, even in one year, in Nish's case. They don't have the talent of the upper echelon teams, but what they have is grit and determination that would make any coach proud.

What I enjoy most about Denisha Petty-Evans is the family she's brought us. It's good to get a crew together and bring the noise, and they support the team whole-heartedly. They feed the whole team energy. That's not always the case with player families, and it says a lot about Nish and her family that they do.

Nish is fearless. She's gonna keep shooting no matter what. Sometimes that's a bad thing, and usually I'm the first person to call it out. But LIU is a defensive-minded team. We're tentative offensively. Someone needs to step up at that end of the floor, and most of the time Denisha's been the one to do it. We brought her in to lead, and in both deed and word she does so.

It's been a pleasure and a privilege to have her on board, and I'm sorry it couldn't have been for longer.


I've often used the example of Stylz Sanders to explain the plight of LIU, and to remind myself that all complaints about a team's lack of size are relative. After all, how many teams can say with a straight face that they start a 5-9 power forward?

Watching more of LIU than ever this year, I've grown to appreciate the leadership and grit Stylz brings to the floor. She guards whoever, wherever, whenever. I've seen her out on the perimeter, dealing with distance shooters, and I've seen her on the inside, banging against posts who have half a foot on her. She does a little bit of everything, even knowing she's going to be overmatched. You can't measure that kind of heart. You can only quantify its results: floor burns, bruises, ice packs, loose balls recovered, minutes played.

But more than that: while our other two seniors step up with their younger teammates, Stylz is most often the team captain working with the officials, talking to them before games, calmly trying to get calls during games. She's not afraid of letting the officials know she doesn't like a call, but she mostly keeps her cool. She defends her teammates, and that's one of the things I've grown to love about her.

If she wants it, she has all the tools to be a fantastic coach- a good head on her shoulders and a great sense of the game. Maybe there are advantages to being a 5-9 power forward after all.


I can't tell you the exact moment when I decided DeAngelique Waithe was my favorite, but I can tell you what that moment probably was. Almost certainly, it had to be while she was defending an inbounding opponent, arms windmilling in the air, legs kicking out, the arrhythmic call of "Ball! Ball!" serving as a distraction. That is always the clearest picture I have of Angel, defending on the sideline, hands up and right foot out.

There is, of course, much more to her game than this. You don't get a D-I scholarship just for defending inbounds passes. She's a fantastic rebounder and a ferocious shotblocker. For much of this year, she's played with an incredible sense of urgency that has helped power this squad through a good chunk of the year. You see that sometimes with seniors, that sudden realization that this is it, so they kick it up a notch to take advantage of every last moment they have left to them.

I'm finding it hard to come up with words for Angel, not because I've seen so little of her or because there's nothing I can say about her game. It's because so much of it can be summed up in one phrase: I just love to watch her play. Seeing her on the floor makes me truly, deeply happy. I love her defense, I love her power moves in the lane, I love her rebounding. And I feel like I should find a more profound way to describe her play, but sometimes you just don't want to complicate things, you know?


So these are my LIU seniors. They're not rewriting the history books. They're never going to make a ripple in the NCAA tournament, or even in the WNIT. In the grand scheme of women's basketball, they're barely a collective afterthought. But they're my seniors and I love them for what they are, and what they've done, and everything that they've meant to this program.



And, always, at the last, we come to St. John's, to my Johnnies who I love and support beyond all reason, beyond any of my other teams, the ones for whom I will always go to the wall. Even if they didn't start with us, they finished with us in the end. Having chosen, so defined.


I would have loved to have been able to cheer for Maya Singleton for a full four years. It's been pleasure and privilege enough to do it for two. Maybe over four years I would have become jaded, accustomed to her monster blocks and the intimidating staredowns that so often follow them. Maybe I would have demanded even more ferocious rebounding from her, even more of the rim protection and intense defense that she brings to the floor.

It makes sense that she's got military in her family, because there's something almost mission objective based in how she takes the court. She has a job to do and the job will get done. Other teams will throw obstacles in her way, and she'll get through or around those obstacles as they come, because she's not going to let them stay in her way. Her intensity is a sight to behold on the court, and I wouldn't want to be in her way.

But like many an enforcer, her off-court personality is completely different from the intimidating presence she has on the floor. The high cheekbones that turn her stare into a thing of terror also turn her smile into a thing of joy. She can light up a room when she wants to.

We've been blessed to have her for two years. It's not enough, but better that than to have never seen her at all.


Imani Littleton has been the steadiest, or at least the most constantly present, of our seniors. She's been here all four years and has the scars on her knee to prove it. She's suffered for us, been knocked down and picked herself up again for us. I think she might be the senior it's been hardest to get to know. She's quiet, introverted where her classmates are extroverted, polite but clearly uncomfortable in public situations. In some ways she's the least expressive player we have; her face always reflects the same cool, distant concentration no matter what's going on out there. But the rest of her body language is as easy to read as the rest of her... well, isn't. She'll slap the floor when she goes for a steal and misses, or swing her arms on a foul call.

Of our seniors, she's the one I think I would like to know most as a person, and to ask how she's changed in college on the other side of the country from home. There always seems to be a lot going on behind her eyes.

That's not to say she isn't also a damn fine basketball player. The torn ACL took away some of her mobility, and early on, maybe some of her confidence. But she's learned to adapt. She's the heart of our defense, the shotblocker down low to shut down paint penetration. She's not a scorer, and there are times when her missed lay-ups are intensely frustrating. But that doesn't make us love her any less. She's sacrificed too much for us not to cherish her. She's a fighter, and she brings that to the floor every night.


If you know me, you know I'm superstitious about jersey numbers. Numbers mean things, after all. I get a little testy when legendary ones are given out, and tend to see patterns where there probably aren't really any. So it's maybe not surprising when I describe Tamesha Alexander's personality as, "Like Sky Lindsay's, but without Sky's shy and retiring nature."

The joke, of course, is that Sky is one of the most gregarious people in the history of St. John's women's basketball, and possibly in overall Red Storm history.

Sox is just as outgoing as Sky, albeit a teeny bit less sarcastic. Maybe that's just the difference between New York and Philadelphia. She's got a personality bigger than she is, a quick laugh, a smile for everyone. She's a joy to be around, a social butterfly nonpareil. For four years she's been, at best, a second-string point guard, never a huge part of the team's on-court plan. By sheer force of heart and will and personality, she became one of my all-time favorites.

Because here's the thing about Sox as a player- she doesn't shoot the ball. Late in games, when the team's trying to get everyone on the scoreboard, they'll give her the ball- and she'll promptly pass it back. She seems genuinely happier to get the assist on someone else's basket, or to make a good defensive stand. I don't know how many games we've played where she's the last Johnnie yet to score- and refuses to shoot the ball. That's who she is. She doesn't want to run it up. She doesn't want to be the center of attention on the court.

I love Sox to itty-bitty pieces, not for what she does, but for who she is.



It's taken a long time to write this. Part of it is general basketball-related despair. Part of it is a general malaise. But I think part of it is simply denial. I don't want to lose these seniors, even though it's too late and they're already gone. This is, as it always has been, the price of college fandom: we know the clock is always ticking.

Some of them have been undeniable program-changers. Some of them have been game-changers. All of them are valued and treasured, and all of them will be missed.

And we get to do it all again next year.

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Senior Tribute 2017

Senior Days hurt. They give us four years of their lives (or fewer, or more, depending on circumstances) and we give them our hearts. And the funny thing is that we keep doing it. It’s insane. It’s illogical. It’s basketball. It’s love.

This year, the Senior Days are not all stacked up against each other like a flurry of punches to the heart. They’re spread out across the coldest, shortest month, pacing out the nostalgia and the bittersweetness- bitter because we’ve reached the end of the journey together, sweet because we’ve watched them grow up and because we know they’re coming out of this with a degree or two.

But I enjoyed writing the senior tributes so much last year, even with the unexpected turn one of them took after Chicago, that I decided that that’s how I’m going to roll with these going forward, instead of inserting them into the game notes. These kids (kids, said the thirty-something about the twenty-somethings) deserve their own place to shine.

 

Michigan is the most distant of my teams, and I don’t think I’ll ever see one of their Senior Days. But I can’t let a senior tribute go by without a nod to the three-point sharpshooter and floor leader Siera Thompson, or to the defensive leader who wormed her way into my heart on first look, Danielle Williams.

Someday the schedules will align and I’ll get to know these Wolverines I claim loyalty to better. I can only appreciate them from afar for now, and wish them all the best as they take on the world: victors valiant, leaders and best.

***

First up this year on the Senior Day schedule is Seton Hall, and for these seniors I’ve chosen to skip a St. John’s game. If y’all have read the ongoing saga of this rivalry and our place in it, you know what that means. But these three have missed so much and sacrificed so much and hurt so much, that a game is worth it. I promised them I’d be there. I’m keeping that promise.


Kathleen Egan’s not on the roster anymore. But Kat’s still a Pirate. ACLs are the worst, and she fought back through them again and again until she had to leave the fight. Sometimes the hardest fight is the one you choose not to keep taking up.

I remember her fondly for her hustle on the floor. Her team needed her to get stronger, so she built herself into a power forward. She scrapped for rebounds with the best of them, and she stood her ground on defense. I think Seton Hall’s still looking for someone to step into those shoes. They’re not as easy to fill as you might think.


Tara Inman is still on the roster, but she no longer plays. ACLs again, repeated and recurring. Those three letters have derailed more seasons and careers than I care to count. We’ll be seeing them again.

Seton Hall has a lot of fun, exciting guards who work their butts off and around whom no basketball is safe. This is not to take anything away from Quanny, or Kaela, or TT, or anyone else. But I miss watching Tara in that low stance on defense, hands out, watching the ball, ready to pounce.

She grew on me. I wasn’t impressed with her in her first couple of years, but like many a young guard before her, she blossomed. She figured out who she was and what her role was, and once she knew she was a ball-hawk and occasional shooter, she flourished.

There’s no doubt in my mind that she, and Kat, deserve Senior Day honors as much as anyone who still suits up on game day.


We see a lot more of Lubirdia Gordon than we do the other two Seton Hall seniors, and that’s not just because Bird’s the only one of that trio still active. Bird brushes with greatness on a regular basis in the summertime, rebounding for none other than Tina Charles on the Garden floor.

Country roads took her down to Morgantown, and country roads brought her back to the Tri-State. But while you can take the kid out of West Virginia, you can’t take the Mountaineer out of the kid. Bird hits hard and plays hard, like most posts who spend time in Mike Carey’s system.

She’s still a Pirate, though. She knows her role. Jump shooters miss shots. It’s inevitable. Someone’s got to be there to put those misses back. Someone’s got to be the person that everyone overlooks in the scouting report. Bird has been rock solid in the middle this year, holding the paint down for the Pirates on both ends of the floor.

It hasn’t been an easy year for her, in more ways than one, but she’s perservered and thrived. You can’t ask for anything better than that. College is supposed to be about growing up and learning to overcome obstacles, right?

These are my senior Pirates, and I love them, for all they are, and all they have been, and all they should have been.

***

Fordham is one of my more recent adoptions. That being said, it’s not so recent that I haven’t seen this class through all four of their years. We have a more distant relationship, your intrepid blogger and these Rams who play at Rose Hill. But when the time is right and the stars align, we go to the wall together against the best the A-10 dares to send to the Bronx.


We got our first look at Danielle Padovano her freshman year when we were keeping an eye on the former Johnnie Mary Nwachukwu, who had taken her graduate year at Fordham. And what we first noticed was that this tall, rebound-happy, freshman was taking the minutes we had expected to go to the tournament-seasoned grad student.

This Danielle is a matchup problem beyond the arc and fierce on the boards. As she’s gotten older, and as the team has changed around her, she’s become more of a situational player, her minutes fluctuating as the opponent’s style dictates. It takes a special kind of personality to adapt to that and to accept your minutes declining to a part-time role.


We got our first look at Danielle Burns her freshman year when we were keeping an eye on the former Johnnie Mary Nwachukwu, who had taken her graduate year at Fordham. And what we first noticed was that she was a shooter and she wasn’t afraid to shoot.

(As a matter of fact, I do tend to refer to Ms. Burns and Ms. Padovano collectively as the Danielles, or as las Danielle.)

Danielle has really grown into a role as a top-notch scorer for the Rams. Her game is well-rounded, and she's stepped up. It's been a pleasure to see her develop, intermittent as my involvement with Fordham has been. I've said it before, and I'll enjoy saying it again and again: part of the joy and the thrill of college basketball is watching the development of young people and seeing who they become.


Hannah Missry comes pre-equipped with a nickname. When she's raining threes upon the enemy, she becomes "Miss Misery" to them.

Sometimes, a player gets really good at a single thing. There are a lot of bad things to be said about crippling overspecialization. I've said a lot of them about Hannah in the past. And there are times when it's abundantly clear that her priority is getting open for three and sinking it. I've called her out about her defense in the past. To her credit, she's made some strides this year towards diversifying her game. But this isn't the place for that.

This is the place for celebrating three-pointers from all over the court, from any distance, at any time. This is the place and time to talk about Hannah Missry as the game changer she can be when that sweet, sweet three is dropping and she brings it back down the court with her swagger. When she lights it up, she electrifies the entire team and fires up Rose Hill.

Bring it on home, Miss Misery.


These are my senior Rams, and I love them for everything they are, and everything they’ve become.

***

We’ve been on-again, off-again with LIU, our love for city teams sometimes conflicting with the simple exigencies of mundane life. With Coach Oliver on board, and one of my favorite Rutgers alumnae beside her on the bench, we’ve taken the Blackbirds to heart. They are not the best of our teams, but they are certainly the feistiest when they set their hearts to it, and this senior class is one of the biggest reasons why.


Dionne Coe’s only been in Brooklyn for this single season, her graduate transfer season. In a way, a player being a graduate transfer says a lot about her. It says that she’s prioritized her academics. It says that she’s taken advantage of her scholarship to get a degree. It says that she wants more than just a bachelor’s, that she sees the opportunity she’s been given and she’s going to take it.

I’ve said a lot of unkind things about Dionne in the GNoD, and I will defend them. But this isn’t the place for them. Welcome home, Dionne. I’m sorry we didn’t get to know you better and see more of you.


I don’t think any player on this LIU squad personifies the grit they can bring on defense and on loose balls than Brianna Farris. She’s hard-nosed and tough, one of the best defenders we have to offer.

I remember the first time I saw her, back when she was a freshman, in LIU’s Thanksgiving tournament. She scared me a little back then, with that stone game face; even her short black hair seemed to bristle with “don’t f- with me”. She’s grown her hair out, so it doesn’t bristle as much, but the game face is still as tough as it ever was.

She was almost the hero against St. Francis this year. She would have deserved it, of that I have no doubt. Her threes from the corner are streaky, but when she’s on, she’s on. And she always brings the tough, physical defense. I don’t think it’s been easy for her to accept playing fewer minutes this year, but she’s done it, and she’s spearheaded comebacks from that position.


Almost to a fault, Shanovia Dove has been the offensive catalyst for the Blackbirds. It hasn’t mattered whether she started or came off the bench- Novi will get her points and she will force you to respect her. Whether it’s from deep or in the lane, she can score and does so often. Part of Senior Day included the milestone ball from her 1000th point.

She’s tough, too, though she’s more of a determinator than someone who will get in your face. But when she starts, she doesn’t stop until she’s finished. If something’s in her way, she’ll get it out of her way. I don’t know where she’s been, or what she’s gone through, but whatever it is, it’s made her very goal-oriented.

As bad as LIU’s been this year- and let’s face it, we’ve been pretty bad- I don’t even want to think about how bad we’d be without Shanovia this season. I wish her all the best, and I know she, and her classmates, will make their way in the world, whether the world likes it or not.


These are my senior Blackbirds, and I love them for everything they are, and everything that they strive to be.

***

Iona was the team we thought we were going to cut out of our ever-expanding circle. We lost all our connections there, after all, and we didn’t exactly get off on the right foot with the current regime. But we stayed for the players we knew, and then we got attached to the new class coming in, and we rebuilt that relationship. I’d say that Iona is now only behind my Big East teams, and I don’t want to find out how I’d feel if Iona ever played Seton Hall or my most distant Michigan. Iona’s seniors took the long road to New Rochelle, through Milwaukee and Madrid, Philadelphia and Lubbock.


It took the better part of three years, but at long last Karynda DuPree has come into her own, and it is glorious.

The first couple of years we saw her at Iona, she was the most frustrating player on the floor. Here was this center with a fantastic low-post build- a 6’4” solid body that probably half of the post players I’ve ever watched would have killed to have- and she was on the outside chucking threes while the guards and Joy Adams did the rebounding. Long-time readers of the GNoD know exactly how I feel about post players taking perimeter shots- you need to be good at it or you need to stop, and you still need to rebound and do work on the inside.

Sometime in the second half of her junior year, the pieces came together. She’s not perfect, but she stopped taking the threes and started taking the ball inside. She discovered her strength as a center both on offense and defense (though I will say she’s always been a shot-blocker, even when she was being a shrinking violet on offense). Now she’s going up with authority. Now she’s tearing down rebounds. She has blossomed, and it is wonderful to watch.

This version of Karynda has been an absolute joy to watch, and I’m sorry that we didn’t get to see more of this side of her sooner. But I’m still thrilled that we got to see this part of her journey.


Of all my seniors, the only one I’ve ever seen before she was one of my players is Marina Lizarazu. She made an impression when she was a Red Raider and Texas Tech came to Brooklyn for a tournament. I didn’t say it was a good impression- she was a risk-taker, in over her head, with questionable judgment. I don’t know how she would have developed if she had stayed at Texas Tech.

I do know who she is now, and in some ways she’s still the same. She takes risks, she makes mistakes. But her command of the floor has improved dramatically. She’s matured into a true point guard, one who commands the offense and owns the court as soon as she steps on it. She’s a slick passer, a capable facilitator, willing and able to take over the offensive load if and when her team needs her. She’s fearless.

That’s the thing that sticks with me most with Marina- she’s fearless. She drives the lane without fear. She takes the big shot without fear. She’s not afraid of the clock. She makes the clock roll over and beg. That’s huge for a point guard.

I think we’ll be hearing more out of Marina in the next few years. Maybe it’ll be in the W. Maybe it’ll be on the international stage. But something tells me we’re going to be hearing her name again after she graduates.


These are my senior Gaels, and I love them for all that they are, and all the places that have made them.

***

Last, but never, ever least: my Johnnies. This is the team that owns my heart, the team that I will go to the wall for, the team that trumps all other teams, the team I have the deepest connection to. This is the Senior Day that always breaks my heart (even though sometimes it’s because they get the shortest shrift from their school).


I’m sorry we haven’t gotten to see more of Kendyl Nunn, both in minutes and in years. I’d heard so much about her shot that I wanted to see it in action in a St. John’s jersey. I know she’s taken the long way around to get here.

Most of all, I’d have liked to see more of the sheer joy she brings to the floor. She always looks happy to be out there and playing. She scraps for loose balls and takes her opportunities when she gets them. You can’t ask for more than that from a deep reserve, especially the positive attitude. I’m going to miss that smile.


There’s a Big East commercial that runs ad infinitum et ad nauseaum during the digital broadcasts, and it talks about how big isn’t just visible on the court. That’s where the conference uses the image of Aaliyah Lewis. But I think that’s the wrong spot. Because it goes on to talk about how big lives in our attitude, and I can think of no player (except perhaps one) who exemplifies the big-city, big-conference, big-game attitude like Aaliyah does.

We used to have a recurring gag that Aaliyah- slightly-built, 5’5” in media guides and high heels Aaliyah- was everyone’s mother’s favorite player because she was so goshdarn cute. I’m not sure if that’s the case anymore, but if it’s not, she’s picked up more than enough fans to make up the difference. Odds are, she’s going to make a no-look pass, or break someone’s ankles with a wicked crossover, or cut through the paint with a burst of speed like a sports car for two and the foul- one way or another, she’s going to be the first favorite player a new fan has.

Aaliyah came into our program with huge shoes to fill. What’s that? You want to be the point guard after Nadirah McKenith, the one Johnnie to make it in the W? Have fun. She took on the challenge, and the role, and answered the call. She adopted the swagger, internalized the city attitude, and took charge.

She’s a little crazy, and a little reckless, but that’s part of why we love her. She’s our point guard.

And despite her size, she’s going to leave some pretty big shoes to fill.


So you know how I said above that maybe one other player might be more appropriate for the “big lives in our attitude” line? That player would, of course, be Jade Walker.

With Jade, big is very visible on the court, and from all over the court. The Red Storm’s intro video talks about her as a match-up nightmare, and they’re not lying. She has a sweet jumper that she’s not afraid to use from the midrange or from beyond the arc. But when she puts her mind to it, her strength inside is even more impressive. She combines power and finesse on the floor, and when she’s on, no one is stopping her.

She’s developed that jumper and lengthened its range while at St. John’s, but in the last year and change, she’s also improved as a defender. It takes a good amount of maturity- or at least an eye on one’s future- for an offensive powerhouse to develop their defense. She’s still got some ways to go in terms of maturity, but I’m pretty sure most 22-year-olds do. I’m pretty sure I did. She plays with emotion and passion, leaves her heart on her sleeve- and sometimes that costs her. She gets into her own head, and with time she’ll learn to get out of it.

But we love her for her unabashed emotion. When Jade emotes, the whole world knows it. There’s never any doubt she’s giving it her all.

Maybe someday I’ll even find out if she let her teammates have a turn with the trophy, or if trophy is still bae to her. :D


I had written the conclusion to this and then realized I forgot Sandie. That is a terrible oversight. I choose to believe that some subconscious part of my mind refuses to admit that Sandra Udobi is a senior and will be leaving us after this season.

Knee injuries robbed Sandie of her mobility and her playing time. When she was on the floor she was a solid defender and a solid teammate, bringing the occasional elbow jumper or strong post move to diversify her game. But torn ACLs are even crueler to posts than they are to guards. She’s seen the writing on the wall.

But of all my seniors, Sandie is the one I will miss most as a human being. She’s brilliant. I truly believe that she’s going to make a big positive change in the world once she graduates with her degrees in hand. Others will have success in basketball, whether it’s on the court or beside it. I think Sandie dreams bigger; if she makes her mark through basketball, it’s because she’s at the grass-roots level, changing the world by affecting culture. She’s on the macro level.

And how often are you blessed to know someone you’re absolutely certain is going to make the world a better place?


These are my senior Johnnies, and I love them for everything that they are, and everything that they choose to be.

***

These are my 2017 seniors- from New Jersey, and New York, and Tennessee, and Florida, and Wisconsin, and Illinois, and Arizona, and California, and Spain, and Nigeria. I love them despite their flaws; I love them because of their flaws. I love them for all that they’ve done, for all that they should have done, for all that they want to do. I love them for everything they are, and everything they have been, and everything that they will be.

Thank you for one, or two, or four, or five, years. Thank you for sharing your gifts with us.

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The Senior Tribute

Dear seniors: I love you all.

These are not game notes. These will never be game notes. If you want game notes, you'll have to wait.

Every year, I pour out my heart about my seniors. I really have no claim to them, other than pride in watching them mature and excel and succeed. But I think of them as mine anyway. I hope I may be allowed my foibles. If not here, then where?

And every year it seems like I have more of them, as we build connections with more and more teams. I can't give them all the love they deserve. Some I don't know well enough. Some, we haven't been through years of ups and downs, of thrilling wins and crushing defeats, of mind-numbing idiocy and breathtaking brilliance. (To love them is to be honest about them and yet still love them anyway, knowing their flaws and embracing their virtues.)

Worst of all, this year my conferences colluded to create an impossible situation. St. John's and Seton Hall, of course, conflicted, and in such a way that we couldn't just hitch a ride with someone. That's to be expected. But Iona's senior day was the same day. So was Michigan's game at Rutgers. What's a fan to do? I needed to be in four places at once, and the most any of us can do is two.

So instead of enclosing little senior tributes in each set of game notes, I'm going to give them all a little space to breathe, a little time to shine. They deserve this much. So many of them will never see the limelight. One or two or three might sniff the WNBA; most aren't even dreaming of it. Most of them you've never heard of unless you've been following the conference or the Game Notes of Doom. In this moment, you're going to hear of them.

I can't give them all their proper shine, of course. Michigan only comes to town once a year. It's hard to build a connection that way. So I'll let Michigan tell the stories of Kelsey Mitchell and Madison Ristovski instead, let them tell the triumphant story of Halle Wangler's journey from walk-on to scholarship athlete. They deserve more than the fleeting glimpses I can give you of them.

And I've only just begun to know LIU and their seniors. I don't think I've even ever seen Angelia Allen play. It wouldn't be fair to try and talk about her. Ashley Brown, I've only seen once, maybe twice by the time these notes go up. I don't know enough to tell you about her. But I can tell you about the fighting spirit that brought Shanice Vaughan out of the locker room on a badly twisted ankle because her team was short-handed, though, and the passion she brings to the floor. I can tell you about Jolanna Ford and the big boards she pulls down, that she makes plays in the paint and goes hard after the ball. I can do at least that much for these Blackbirds waiting for their moment to arise.

Fordham... ah, Fordham. I've rarely had the opportunity to see Khadijah Gibson play. I don't know her as well as I should. But I've watched Samantha Clark. In some ways, she's one of the most frustrating of my seniors. She has the kind of build that undersized centers in mid-major conferences dream of. She wouldn't look out of place in the Big Ten or the Big XII of the last decade. And there are far too many days where she can't finish at the rim, or she takes a three with far too much time on the shot clock. But she comes up big in big games, and there are few in the Atlantic 10 that can match her strength. I wish her all the best.

And now we come to my Big Three, my trinity of sorts, the three senior classes who have wrapped themselves around my heart and wrapped me around their collective fingers. We've taken these wild rides together for four years, more or less, through the breathless highs and the heartbreaking lows, seen buzzer-beaters and historic firsts. Three classes, each one of them with a record smasher, each one of them with an immortal, each one of them game-changing for their school.

*

This is not how the last year of Cassidee Ranger's college career was supposed to go down. No one plans on being injured. No one plans to spend conference play lurching about on crutches, reduced to starting the defense chant on the bench. In an offense that has so often relied on the long ball, Cas's shot would have been a perfect weapon.

We used to call her the Lone Ranger sometimes, because there were countless times when she would be open in the corner, and no one would see her. And then sometimes they did, and it was glorious, and we would fire up a rendition of "Slap Shot", because I'm a New York Rangers fan and that's how we roll when a Ranger scores.

She was pretty tough on the boards, too, and she could hold down the fort screening for her teammates. This has been a fantastic year, but it could have been even more fantastic with Cas shooting from the corner or breaking Marina loose for a drive.


Joy Adams is a freak of nature. Her athleticism is astonishing. You get ready to hold your breath when she's on the fast break, because something spectacular is going to happen. It may well be a spectacular miss. But it's just as likely to be a spectacular shot. And if it's a spectacular miss, then she's going to rebound it just as spectacularly.

She has an incredible ability to insinuate herself into spaces. That's what always catches my attention about her- she finds her way to the basket, and she will get the ball. She can take over a game, put her stamp on it, make sure that no one else gets the ball. She'll scrap and fight and dive for balls. Her energy is contagious.

She'll finish her collegiate career with one of the highest rebounding totals in NCAA D-I history. For a while, she might even be immortal; the NCAA record book keeps the top (I believe) twenty-five all-time. She'll be on that list, right there with Courtney Paris and Jillian Alleyne.


Cas is a sweetheart, and Joy is a phenom.

But Aaliyah Robinson is my favorite Gael.

Compressed in that guard's body is the rebounding will of a mighty center. Two inches taller, and she'd be high rotation in the A-10; six inches taller, and you would have heard her name long before this, somewhere in the Power 5.

More than that, she comes up clutch from beyond the arc. She can pour it on and incite the crowd, and she's deadly dangerous on the backcourt trap. One fucks with A-Rob at their own peril.

I would have loved to see what she could do in a larger frame- more height, more strength. But that doesn't mean I don't love what she does now.


These are my, and your, Iona Gaels, the first senior class in Iona women's basketball history to go dancing. They are the joy of my March Madness, and for one shining moment, maybe they'll be yours.


*


Shakena Richardson was born to control the game.

That's the only way I can describe her. When she has the ball, you damn well know she has the ball. When she's running the offense, you damn well know whose show it is. I've seen a lot of point guards over the years, and she has a commanding presence beyond her years (which is saying something for a graduate student). She looks immensely comfortable running the show.

That control extends to her body as well. She does things in the lane that seem impossible for her size. She is possessed of both incredible tenacity and incredible strength. She almost single-handedly dragged Seton Hall back into the semifinal game against Creighton, because she wasn't going to give up.

But don't let all of that make her sound like some kind of grim, implacable, martinet. Kena has more fun out there before games than just about anyone. She's certainly one of the best and most enthusiastic pre-game dancers I've ever seen, and I've seen some serious hip-shaking in my day.

I couldn't be happier that she decided to head on home, or at least closer to it than Tallahassee.


Sometimes you just need to find your niche. That's what Jordan Mosley has done. Role player is a job that needs doing too.

Jordan's the only one of the senior quintet at Seton Hall who doesn't start, and sometimes I wonder if it gets to her. The fact that I have to wonder tells me how much of a team player she's been. Being able to follow is almost as strong a sign of maturity and leadership as taking the lead is.

She's not going to do anything flashy. She doesn't go on dramatic scoring runs or make acrobatic SportsCenter lay-ups. But she'll come up with a big three at the right time, or she'll make a key defensive stop.

In some ways, she's the hardest of my seniors to get a handle on, because we see so much less of her. But she's no less a part of this team and its success for that. After all, the starters can't do it alone. Rosters are 15, not 5, for a reason.


I've been watching Aleesha Powell do her thing for a while now. We go back to Iona, to the maroon and gold, to one of the fastest backcourts in the nation, to proud parents perched in the highest bleachers the Hynes had to offer, to broken axles and the long road to and from Philadelphia.

She's a nice kid. Heaven knows she's been patient when we start talking basketball with her dad and she's wondering why these two weirdos have latched on to her family.

She looks so fragile, like she's still growing into her body. Don't let that fool you into questioning her toughness. Leesh takes the contact and gets right back up again to go hit the free throws. There are plenty of tweets on my timeline and notes in my blog to the effect of "STOP HITTING TINY ALEESHA". And she goes back for more.

She's so fast. Even at the Big East level, she's so much faster than almost everyone out there that she changes the game. She makes plays happen on defense with her quick hands and her closing speed. No ballhandler is safe when she's around.

But what really sets her apart for Seton Hall is her simpatico with Coach Bozzella. It's understandable, given their common roots at Iona. But at the same time, it's fascinating to watch the implicit trust between them when she has the ball. When Kena, or the freshman TT, has the ball, Coach never seems satisfied with the tempo of the game. When Leesh is bringing the ball up, he almost never has to implore her to speed it up or beg her to slow it down. They understand each other, and that's a key part of what makes the magic happen.

That's going to be a big hole to fill.


Tiffany Jones: the world's tallest Swiss Army Knife. (No, I don't think that's literally true, partially because Tiffany is not a literal Swiss Army Knife with all kinds of tools that you pull out with your fingernail, and partially because I don't doubt that someone somewhere has built a ten-foot-long Swiss Army Knife that you would have to tow with your car.)

But when it comes to versatility, that's her all over. Step outside and hit the deep three? Tiffany can do that. Own the boards like a boss? Tiffany can do that. Finish at the rim? Tiffany can do that. Block an opponent's shot into the second row? Tiffany can do that. (I've seen it, or at least the distance equivalent, at Walsh.)

In her brief time at the Hall, Tiffany has become indispensable. She comes to work hard every night (sometimes to her detriment- she's had days where she's pressing too much to force things that aren't happening). She spaces the offense and provides an interior anchor for the defense. She provides a threat inside and out, and that opens up opportunities for everyone else.

I'm sorry we didn't get her for longer. I think she would have been one of our greats. As it is, in three semesters she's shone bright like a shooting star.


Tabatha Richardson-Smith and I have a love-hate relationship. I love to watch her. She hates me.

I'll be honest: this post is different now that I'm writing it after the Big East tournament and what happened there. I think about Tab the person much differently now. What I thought was an ongoing good-natured ribbing was anything but, and now I find myself wondering how else I misjudged her.

So let me talk to you about Tab the player instead. No. Let me talk to you about Tab, Seton Hall's all-time leading scorer, instead. Let me talk to you about the superstar who should have been Big East Player of the Year. Let me describe the deep threes she takes with the greatest of ease and the least hesitation possible, the way she cuts through the lane with a tall grace, the way she tears down rebounds like it was going out of style. Let me describe the way she pounces on the slightest hint of weakness from a ballhandler on the press.

She has the Taurasi swagger and the game to back it up. She has the McCoughtry chip on her shoulder and the history to back it up.

But let me talk to you about a freshman buried deep on Anne Donovan's bench, coming into the game only when it was well in hand. Let me describe a player picking up garbage minutes and tough rebounds, name arcing awkwardly on her jersey. Let me talk about a reserve playing just a little bit reckless and a little bit fearless. She'd probably have been the one person who believed you if you said that by the end of her senior year she was going to be the top scorer in the Big East, the all-time leading scorer for Seton Hall, all-conference and undeniable star.

Tab's journey is Seton Hall's journey, from the bottom of the table to the top of the heap, from the back of the rotation to the front line, never forgetting where she came from, defining themselves by who they planned to be and not who they were, demanding nothing except everything.


These are my, and your, Seton Hall Pirates. They took the long way around, through La Salle, through Iona, through ASA, through Florida State and Rutgers, through the heart of Texas, to find their way to South Orange. Like every pirate crew worth their salt, they came together from disparate origins to become something stronger and something fiercer.

Raise the Jolly Roger. Plunder the lox. The Pirates are coming.


*


In retrospect, perhaps I didn't get the proper first impression of Danaejah Grant.

When Danaejah played her first games at St. John's, I thought she was a gunner, the kind of player whose only concern was how many points she had on the scoresheet, defense be damned. I had dark thoughts that that was why she left Clemson.

Maybe it was just the shoulder. Maybe it was just the shoulder brace, that giant black monstrosity that wouldn't have looked out of place on a football field or in a Borg crowd shot. Maybe that was holding her back from being who she really was.

Or maybe she realized she needed to be more than a pure scorer. Sometimes you see players come to that realization as juniors or seniors- we've come to call that a Briana Brown, after the guard who went from end-of-the-bench reserve to unquestioned captain. Some players make that leap in maturity, and maybe that's Danaejah.

Whatever the case- be it early frailty or late strength- D has come into her own this year, on both ends of the floor. She's rarely flashy. She doesn't make wild, acrobatic plays. She probably won't show up on SportsCenter any time soon.

What does she do? Everything. She's become a lockdown defender, and she usually gets one of the hardest assignments for the opposition. She's a jump-shooting threat who opens up the floor and spreads a defense. She has the strength to drive the lane, take the contact, and hit the shot- and then she'll usually hit the free throw, which is a blessed relief from all my years as a Johnnie.

It's been easy to overlook her. After all, how often do you really think about the ground you stand on? In this season, she's been our bedrock, the foundation on which everything is built.


To make aliyah is to ascend. I've never seen it be so true as it is for Aliyyah Handford.

You have to be a pretty special woman to wear #3 for St. John's. Angela Clark, wherever she is now, was an All-Big East performer on the tournament team that lost to Maryland in the Terps' championship year. Da'Shena Stevens was Big East Freshman of the Year and led St. John's to tournament wins and That Game Against UConn. It even extends to the soccer pitch- Rachel Daly is one of the greatest to don the St. John's shirt. So when this freshman whose qualification was in question came up with that number, I was skeptical, to say the least. You want to wear Angie's number? You want to wear Day's number? You better be good.

I think it's safe to say Liyyah has lived up to those expectations.

She is, simply put, breath-taking. I saw her pull off the Jewelly-oop once or twice. She knifes through the lane like a bolt of lightning. She gets hit hard, and every time, she gets back up again. And then she'll go do it again. Her midrange jumper is a thing of beauty, and every so often she'll step out for a pleasant surprise from deep.

And I haven't even talked about her defense. She has quick hands and a phenomenal ability to read the passing lanes. So much of her offense comes from her defense.

But the best part of her game is her positive energy. When Liyyah's happy, everyone's happy. Her smile is contagious. Off the court, she's just as energetic, even after a bad game. She's almost always got a bright smile, and when she doesn't, it makes the whole world a little bit sadder. That's really how she gets to you. And then she scores more points than any other Johnnie in the history of women's basketball, and you remember she's not just awesome at being a human, she's awesome at basketball.

To make aliyah is a religious experience. I'm agnostic leaning towards atheist, so I wouldn't know anything about that, but I'm okay with making that parallel.


Here they are, my, and your, St. John's Red Storm. These are two of the best to walk through the door, the thunder and the lightning of the Storm. They'll go down in the record books for all they've done for this program, and it'll be a long time before we see their like again.

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