The Phoenix Mercury training facility was buzzing with the squeak of sneakers and the thump of basketballs. Parents lined the bleachers, and kids darted around the court, wide-eyed at the chance to learn from their idols.

You had only been drafted a few weeks ago, the rookie everyone was still whispering about. Excited, nervous, but determined—that’s how you felt walking into the youth camp that morning.

You didn’t expect to see Diana Taurasi, clipboard in hand, already corralling a group of ten-year-olds. “Alright, no double-dribbles, no traveling—unless you wanna sit on the bench,” Diana barked, though the corner of her mouth curved up. The kids laughed.You adjusted your practice jersey and made your way over.

“Hey, I’m supposed to help out with this group,” you said. Diana glanced at you, her sharp eyes softening once she registered your face. “The rookie.” You laughed awkwardly. “That obvious?” She smirked. “You’re still wearing your draft day nerves like perfume. Don’t worry, these kids won’t bite. They’ll just dunk on you if you’re not careful.” The kids giggled, and one shouted, “Coach Dee always talks trash!” “Because it’s an art form,” Diana shot back, then turned to you. “You good with drills?” “Yeah,” you said, nodding quickly. “I’ll run shooting stations if you want.”

As the session went on, you fell into a rhythm—passing balls, correcting stances, cheering when a kid finally nailed a jumper. Diana watched you for a moment, her expression unreadable. When the kids broke for water, she leaned against the scorer’s table beside you.

“You’re patient,” she said. “Most rookies come in here thinking they gotta prove themselves, even with ten-year-olds. You’re different.” You shrugged, feeling a blush creep up. “I like seeing them get it, you know? That moment when it clicks.”

She nodded slowly. “Yeah. That’s the good part.” There was a pause. “I… don’t usually do this. These camps. But my kids wanted me to. They’re around here somewhere—probably hustling candy off the trainers.”

Your head tilted. “You have kids?” “Two,” she said simply, her voice softening. “It’s just me and them now.” She didn’t elaborate, but the weight in her tone told you enough.

You hesitated before answering. “That’s… a lot. But they’re lucky to have you. I mean, you’re intense, but in the best way.” Her laugh was quiet, genuine. “Intense, huh? That’s one way people put it. Usually they just say I’m a pain in the ass.” “I don’t think so,” you said honestly. “I think you’re just… you. And that’s not something to apologize for.”

Diana studied you for a long second, her eyes steady, like she was deciding if she could trust that. Then she nodded, pushing off the table and grabbing her whistle.

“Alright, Rookie. Let’s see if you can keep up with me out here.” You grinned. “Oh, I can more than keep up.” The whistle blew, the kids swarmed the court again, and something shifted—a spark of respect, maybe even curiosity—between you and Diana….