#theorangeprint

Addison was pissed, to put it simply. Having played for OT Select, Overtime coming to her school ball game was less than surprising; the part she didn’t expect was them wanting her mic’ed up… 

“Look, I’m not doing it. I’ll continue warming up now, if that’s okay with y'all?” Addison said with a sour smile

Coach Morgan rolled his eyes at his favorite player’s attitude that he had gotten used to a long, long time ago. Just as she turned to walk away, he grabbed her by the back of her jersey, firm, but not rough. “But you are. Look, Addi, they’re not going to put anything bad that you say in; besides, we all know how you get during games anyway.” 

And with that, the argument was dead; Addison had no choice but to sit and let them put the wires on. 

If she wasn’t already irritated, noticing her big sister, Azzi Fudd, laughing at her, even going as far as to tap her girlfriend, Paige, and her friend Juju, guiding them to watch as she sat sulking, she was definitely irritated after that. 

Her eyes left the stands and instead found the scoreboard that showed there was only one minute until game time. 

Addison regrouped with her teammates, going over small things like which offense would be run first, etc. 

For the first couple of minutes, Addison had no problems with being silent, up until her teammate shot a three and missed. “ That was a good shot, Liv,” Addison affirmed as they hustled onto defense.

“A good shot for her maybe,” Number 5, Addison's assignment, muttered. 

Addison maintained her low, confident posture on defense, eyes moving just barely so she could look Number 5 in the eyes as she questioned her, “What do you mean by that? You think I can’t make a three?” 

“I know you can’t.” Number five responded, just as she attempted to back cut on Addison, which failed miserably as Addison stole the pass, bringing the ball up. 

The student section roared as the ball touched Addison's hands,  just as it has for the last 3 years that they’ve had the blessing that Addison Fudd is on their team.

Addison quickly passed to Liv, her point guard, cutting to the corner. Then, just as the opposing team had studied, Olivia drove through the paint, kicking out to Addison quickly. 

What the film didn’t account for, though, is that Addison is a petty, petty girl if nothing else. Instead of taking advantage of her being left open, she chose to dribble up to the top of the key, going way off script and also giving number 5 the chance to get back on defense.

As soon as she made it there, she took one dribble back and shot the three, watching as it went in smoothly. 

“Go get it out the net, bitch!” Addison screamed in number 5’s face as she backpeddled to get on defense. 

The whistle blew with a quickness. “Tech, unsportsmanlike conduct, 25,” The ref yelled with the same passion Addison’s voice held just seconds earlier. Addison smiled and shrugged, doubting her was her biggest pet peeve, and hey, a tech never hurt no one, at least not in her book. 

In the stands, Juju stared at Addison; she couldn’t care less about the game anymore. Usually, a player with a temper got on Juju’s nerves, heavily, but for some reason, when Addison did it, it drew her in rather than icking her out. 

Juju leaned over Paige so that Azzi could hear her question over the gym's loud atmosphere: “Addison’s a senior, right?” Hearing that, Azzi and Paige immediately began laughing, leaving Juju more than confused. 

“She isn’t?” The girls' laughter slowed, then picked back up that quickly. Finally, Paige decided to put her out of her misery, “Yes, yes, Addison is a senior.” Juju hummed quickly at the newfound information, nodding her head as she thought about it. 

“Go for it; she loves her a good hooper,” Azzi said, not missing the way Juju’s cheeks turned pink, despite the way she turned her head back to the game.  

After the game, Addison was distracted talking to her coach, not noticing the way her big sister crept up behind her. Azzi pounced as if she were an animal hunting her prey, grabbing Addison's shoulders and shaking them. 

Addison jumped at the contact initially, before immediately rolling her eyes, realizing it was surely either Paige or Azzi. “Real mature, real mature.” She muttered as she turned around slowly. 

For some strange reason, Addison's eyes shot to Juju’s right away, then slowly, but surely, she looked her up and down, fully taking in her appearance as if she was making sure she wasn’t missing anything. 

Paige and Azzi shared a knowing look. “Good game, that temper though...” Juju said jokingly as she extended her hand. 

“Y’don’t like it? I can change it for you, I mean,” Addison said, dragging the n in mean out as she grabbed Juju’s hand, shaking it slowly. “Your hands are so soft, my god.” Juju’s only response was a giggle, before she pulled herself together and shook her head at the younger girl's antics. 

“You should maybe.. Let me put my number in your phone? So we could discuss my temper and your skincare routine, y’know?” Addison knew she was taking an extremely long shot, but she also knew that Judea Watkins was certainly worth trying for. 

Juju handed the phone over wordlessly, peaking over Addison's shoulder watching as she made her contact name “Addi 😊😏😍😇💋”  

Addison handed the phone back before turning around and giving Azzi a hug, then Paige, and finally Juju. 

Addison held onto Juju tight like she’d disappear, before thinking about all the teasing she’d have to endure from Azzi and Paige later, leading to her letting go with a satisfied smile left on her face. “Yo I stink.. I’m gonna go get myself together I’ll catch yall in a bit” Addison muttered as she picked up her warmup shirt from the bench. 

Alisha Lee was a simple woman. As long as basketball is in her life consistently, then well, she’ll be okay. 

When her time in high school was coming to an end, she wasn’t quite sure how to retain her connection to basketball. She didn’t want to coach full-time, and she couldn’t see herself going JUCO and fighting for a roster spot. 

When Alisha expressed these feelings to Mr. K, the Journalism club sponsor, a club she had been a part of since freshman year, he laughed in her face. 

“You have to be kidding me?” Mr. K stared at his student, who looked back at him with despair in her own eyes. “Alisha, you’ve been doing the work of a professional journalist for years, unpaid. The perfect career for you has been right in front of you this entire time.” 

And like he always had been, Mr. K was right. 

Alisha got her degree in journalism in just two years, thanks to her dual credit enrollment throughout high school, while also being a pillar of her college's newspaper. 

Becoming a Spurs reporter was a dream come true for Alisha. The job offer was on the table before she even graduated. During her “Freshman” year, the Spurs invited student journalists from all over the state to come interview their players, as an opportunity for them to grow. 

This program lasted for a ten-game span, and by the third game, the Spurs media team had Alisha’s name written down and a countdown until she graduated right next to it. She was special, well beyond that even. 

She truly understood the game; her questions weren’t just what the majority thought, they went deeper than that. When a bench warmer had a better game than usual, she asked about that and their impact and influence on the game, not just what the star player had done. Alisha knows basketball as well as most people know themselves. 

PRESENT DAY: 

Alisha shuffled into the same space she always found herself in. Microphone, notebook, and statsheet in hand. About halfway through the season, she was finally starting to find her pace. She knew which players could handle a bit of criticism and which ones to watch it around, she knew which reporters really cared about basketball and which ones just wanted a hit quote. She felt like she really was becoming established in the reporter world. 

The players slowly filtered in, one by one. Tonight's lineup was Victor Wembanyama, Carter Bryant, and Dylan Harper. 

Wemby had gone off, with 30 points and 15 rebounds, Harper had 15 with 5 great assists, and Carter had only 3 points, 3 assists, and 3 blocks. 

Immediately, the other reporters dug in like vultures getting their first meal of the day. “Wemby, a double-double like this could not be hard to do, especially with your team falling behind early in the first half. What was the motivation there?” One asked 

Another asked Dylan, “Tonight you left the court with 5 assists, all of them being great passes. When you’re on the court, what helps you make sure you’re seeing your teammates and reading the defense properly?” 

Alisha sat quietly and let them ask their questions, listening carefully to ensure that no one asked the same thought that she had. Finally, she saw her opening, “Carter, all 3 of your blocks happened in the second quarter, while your team was having difficulty getting defensive stops. Checking into the game, did you already have in your mind the thought that like, we have to get these stops, or did it just come naturally?” 

Carter couldn’t help but smile at hearing her voice. Only halfway into his rookie season, and he has already found a reason outside of basketball to love the city of San Antonio. “Great question, Alisha, yeah, so I kind of knew like, that’s where they were beating us at primarily, was their ability to get in there and score on us. Our offense was running smoothly and as it should, but of course, they’re going to be beating us when our defense is falling apart.” Carter stopped to clear his throat before continuing, “I saw that most of their points were coming from them beating us to the rim and our help defense not coming, so I knew that when I got in, it was going to be a priority for me to get in the paint and help out.” 

“Thank you, Carter, great game, by the way,” Alisha said with a smile on her face, wanting to ensure it was clear that she meant it. 

Dylan didn’t have to look at Carter to know that, for one, he was smiling like an idiot, and for two, he was blushing, no doubt. Instead, he just looked down, fighting to repress his laughter. 

The presser wrapped up fairly quickly after that. Alisha asked Victor a question about his offensive presence, and Dylan a question about how he gets around the undeniably tough defensive pressure put on him as a rookie. 

As the three players exited the room, Dylan turned to Carter with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You have to talk to her, dude, you’re so obsessed it's making me sick.” 

“That’s just.. Not true. She asks good questions. I appreciate that. That’s all,” Carter said, hitting Dylan on the shoulder, though there was no real pressure behind it.

“It is true. Just go back and talk to her.” Both Carter and Dylan's eyes shot to Wemby. He had been walking slightly ahead of them, and they didn’t even think he was listening for real. 

But hearing Victor agree with Dylan had him second guessing himself. Maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t just the great questions, but also the pretty girl behind the mic. So instead of continuing his journey to the locker room, he broke off from his two teammates, finding himself outside of the press office, where all Spurs reporters went directly after all press conferences finished up. 

After about 5 minutes of awkwardly shifting his weight from one foot to the other and discovering that the zipper of his warmup jacket was actually super interesting, finally, Alisha showed up. 

At first, she was looking down, trying to make sure that she wasn’t about to drop anything, then she realized that she had to figure out how to get the door open with her hands full. 

Her eyes lifted slowly from the pile of papers in her hands to the room she spent far too much time in, and to her surprise, she also found a player ( her favorite, though she thinks it's unprofessional, so she’ll never admit it ) standing there, though it was a rarity for them to come to the press office post-game. “Need some help?” Carter said after a small laugh escaped his lips at the sight of her trying and failing to get her stuff organized. 

“Please?” That was all she had to say for him to grab half of the things in her arms and hold the door open for her. 

Alisha turned in the Spurs issued microphone, as well as the press pass that she loved so much, before letting out a breath of relief knowing that now, her long day was finally over. Leaving the office, she was surprised to see that Carter was still there, well, she was until she realized she had left her things with him. “Sorry about that, I completely forgot that you were out here,” Alisha said as she quickly reached to grab her things from him. 

“Nah, it’s okay, I mean,I was here to talk to you anyway,” Carter said with a shrug, as if it were the most casual thing in the world. 

Alisha’s eyebrows raised almost comically high, “Really? About what?” 

Carter froze for a moment. He knew what he was here for, he really did. It was just that, well, he got distracted by her beauty even when she was sitting 10 feet away from him. Them being face-to-face was a whole different thing. It didn’t take long for him to realize that he probably seemed like a weirdo, standing there, just staring down at her. “Well, I think your questions during pressers are always great, y’know? I think you’re an out of the box thinker, you see things in a way no one else does, and.. I would love to get to know you outside of basketball. So.. would you like to get coffee tomorrow?” 

“What kind of person would I be if I said no to getting coffee with thee Carter Bryant? Of course I will,” Alisha said with somewhat of a joking tone. 

Carter let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, “Ok, then I will see you at the Toast & Roast downtown at… 10:30?”

“Sounds good to me,” Alisha agreed with an uncontrollable smile. 

That’s how San Antonio's finest found himself sitting inside of a ducked off coffee shop at 10 am, checking his phone every 5 minutes. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t think she wasn’t going to show, well, he kind of did think she wasn’t going to, actually. Carter thought that maybe she was intimidated, he is 6 '8, and she didn’t know how to tell him no at the moment. 

Nevertheless, he showed up 30 minutes early in an outfit that he spent a concerning amount of time picking out. 

Around 10:15, he figured he should go order, and that he could just get something else with Alisha when or if she showed up. “May I get the uhh.. Cinnamon latte with oat milk please?” Carter requested as he quickly scanned the menu over once more. Just as he finished giving his order, the bell above the door rang, signaling that someone had just entered the shop. 

Their eyes met immediately, “Will that be all for you?” The cashier asked politely just as Alisha walked up, finding herself right next to Carter. 

“I’ll get whatever he got and a croissant, please” Alisha's voice was as thick as molasses as she spoke. 

The cashier told them their total, and both Carter and Alisha went to pay, leading to Carter giving her a dirty, dirty look. Alisha didn’t need to be told twice, she much prefers to see his smile over his scowl. 

Carter led her to the table he had picked out, pulling her chair out like a true gentleman leaving her no choice but to drop another one of her silly comments, “Ok, so chivalry really isn’t dead I see.” 

“Not as long as I’m alive.” Carter muttered as he scooched his chair closer to the table. Alisha couldn’t help but think to herself, can this man get any better? 

“Well Mr. Bryant, you said you wanted to get to know me? Anything in particular?” Alisha asked as she rested her face on one hand that was propped up by her leaning on the table. 

Carter copied her positioning, leaning into the table just slightly, “Everything, anything, hell if you want to tell me about why you hate your second grade teacher, I’m all ears.” 

Chiney Ogwumike and Andraya Carter sat at their round table speaking about Louisiana's close win over UCLA, well, that was before they stopped to check their rapidly beeping phones.

Andraya cleared her throat, “This just in, folks, UCLA’s star shooting guard Jayla Beck has entered the transfer portal.”

“So unexpected, especially after having a season that secured her spot in the rafters,” Chiney said, shaking her head.

Both reporters looked over the cameras at their producer, who was trying to tell them that Jayla had released a video saying goodbye to UCLA.

“Well, Jayla made a video explaining why she’s choosing to make this move, so we’ll let y’all enjoy this.”

The clip starts with Jayla wearing a UCLA jumper with her number underneath the letters.

“Hey guys.. I kinda don't know how to say this, but I will be entering the transfer portal.” Jayla stopped to sniffle before continuing

“I want to thank the fans and my teammates for making this experience somewhat better. Unfortunately, at UCLA, I felt as though my coaches didn’t care for me or my well-being.”

Jayla looked off camera at her MacBook, where her best friend, Kameroa, was silently supporting her with a huge smile and two thumbs up.

“At UCLA, I’ve been punished for being sick, benched for having a B in a class, whereas other players were barely passing, and continuously publicly berated. I was willing to ignore this, considering I love my teammates and the bond we’ve built, however, my breaking point has been being told that if I were to go home when my dad had a heart attack, I would have limited play time for the rest of my college career.”

Jayla stopped to pull the UCLA hoodie off. “So, trust me, this decision was carefully considered. But hey, once a bruin always a bruin.”

Chiney and Andraya’s eyes were wide with shock.

“She’s a star and didn’t deserve that treatment, but I'm sure she’ll shine brighter somewhere she's supported,” Andraya said matter-of-factly.

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