Thinking about the sheer absurdity of Paige and Azzi’s story… being born 1100 miles apart, meeting through chance as competitors, spending years scrounging for scraps of free time wherever, whenever and however they could get them. Wanting to play together but it only happening at a rare camp or teamusa event. At the first opportunity to choose where to play, they finally find themselves in the same place, seemingly getting the opportunity to make good on all the dreams and promises they’ve barely dared to breathe aloud to each other because they just seemed so far-fetched at the time, but now they’re here and real. They get to play together. But then injuries ravage the little time that they have. What should have been 3-4 years of playing together is shortened dramatically, and at times it probably felt cruel: chance brought them together, but once they chose to be in the same place and on the same team, chance continually pulled them apart. And knowing that their time together was limited and that they’d soon once again be pulled in two different geographic directions through no choice of their own must have been so frustrating. But then lo and behold, through so many circumstances of chance—the Wings record, the draft lottery, Azzi’s stellar senior campaign, all things which only come into being because of the sad twists of fate they’ve endured over the years because without the injuries and the setbacks and the hardships neither of them redshirt and therefore neither of them end up on the Wings—they’re brought together once again, with the opportunity to finally make good on all the hopes and aspirations that they likely whispered in the dark as eager fourteen and fifteen year olds who were just so excited to one day maybe get the chance to play with their best friend
stormborns
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vaporwave
andulkaphoto
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