Millie gave her a squinty-eyed glare, but Kate knew her old friend well enough to be certain she was doing mental backflips behind that mask of imperturbability. The other member of their unholy triumvirate, Professor Avery Preston, was most likely scamming leftover nachos from one of the snack bars. Athletics weren’t her thing, but Avery was a good friend. She accepted her ticket to the game with only a few grumbling words about the possibility of bleacher butt.
Kate skimmed over the crowd of reporters, looking for one familiar face, but came up empty. Tamping down a sharp pang of disappointment, she sliced through the final strands, then waved the net high over her head.
Mike took the severed net from her as he handed her down from the ladder. Kate wriggled her feet into her pumps, then started toward the hastily stretched-out red carpet at the center of the arena to accept her prize.
There’d be no denying her legacy now. Kate Snyder was the winningest coach in the history of Wolcott athletics. Period. No need to add any pesky sport or gender qualification to the accolade.
Anxious to score good positions, the reporters scurried off to the press room while the NCAA commissioner took his spot next to the table holding the trophy. Her players slipped championship T-shirts over their heads and snapped selfies. Unlike the endless hoopla surrounding the men’s tournament, this celebration was already winding down. Only a few die-hard fans would stick around for the presentation.
“You ready, Coach?” Director Samlin asked, taking his place beside her.
Kate smiled, then plucked her net from his hand. She liked Mike, but winning this tournament meant she had the balance of power firmly in her grasp. This particular battle was over, but the war wasn’t won. Yet.
“I’m more than ready, Mike,” she said as she draped the net over the corner of the trophy. “More than ready.”
* * *
“I can’t tell you how proud the entire Wolcott Warrior nation is at this moment…”
The athletic director’s words faded to background noise as Kate surveyed the crowd crammed into the too-tiny conference room. Never in all her days as a player or a coach had she seen so many media outlets assembled in one spot. Well, maybe when she played in the Olympics, but certainly not here in America.
She didn’t see Musburger or Costas in the crowd, but National Sports Network had sent their golden boy, Greg Chambers. She hadn’t seen him live and in person in years. Something was up. Something juicer than an NCAA Women’s title.
A lump of apprehension formed in her stomach. Cameras whirred and flashes blinked like strobes. She shifted on the utilitarian metal folding chair and squinted into the glare of the portable lights set up on either side of the stage. Needing something to ground her, she reached out to touch the severed net dangling off the edge of the trophy. Ironic that something that usually hung nine feet off the floor should make her feel more secure.
“…Coach Snyder’s unwavering dedication to the Warrior athletic program is an inspiration to me and everyone who has known her as a player, leader, mentor, and role model.”
Kate plastered a gracious smile back on her face and promptly zoned out as Mike launched into the usual spiel. She didn’t need to be reminded of her accomplishments. The proof of her hard work and determination sat front and center on the table.
The Wolcott University Warrior Women were the national champions, and she, Kate Snyder—Wolcott alumna, WNBA all-star, and Olympic gold medalist—was the one who’d led them there. Again.
This was her moment. The net-draped trophy was her third Division I championship as a women’s basketball head coach. A stat that placed her a half dozen wins behind the current king—Geno Auriemma, from the University of Connecticut—but next in line after her idol, the late, great Pat Summitt, in the record books.
A banner achievement. One more personal milestone. She just never imagined it would garner this much press attention. Kate drew a deep breath, trying to calm the nerves making her heart stutter-step, and tuned back into what the AD was saying.
“Kate Snyder is the personification of the title ‘Coach.’ Grace under pressure and the instincts of a born champion…”
His voice held a slightly too-enthusiastic edge. Kate shot him a curious glance. Mike was a former NFL player turned collegiate program builder. Women’s basketball probably wouldn’t have even registered on his radar if his first gig as athletic director had landed him anywhere but Wolcott. But the Warrior Women held the only bragging rights the university had reaped in decades. That meant it was time for Mr. Former Football Star to suck it up and sing the praises of women’s hoops.
“We are honored that Coach Snyder continues to call Wolcott University home…”
Ah, a shot across the bow. Her contract was up this year. He knew it, she knew it, and the handful of people in this room who actually cared about women’s basketball did too. Kate Snyder was no longer willing to be treated like the protégé she’d once been.
No more jokes about the salary differential between her and her male counterparts being her contribution to the alumni fund. If Mike thought he could bamboozle her with a charming smile and a hefty dose of sentiment, he had another think coming. She was done shooting from the outside. He’d better be prepared to pay her what she was worth or be ready to take a charge, because she was coming at him straight down the middle.
“Kate Snyder is the epitome of a warrior, and I, for one, am damn glad to have her on my team.” He turned his smooth-operator smile on her. “Coach, on
