A few of the many young women who have played basketball in Coupeville.
Everyone has a story; everyone is part of the tapestry.
Whether they played a hot minute or four full years of varsity, the young women who wore the red and black (or red and white in earlier days) for Coupeville High School basketball teams, are part of a select sisterhood.
In the (slightly paraphrased) words of Norman Dale in Hoosiers:
“These individuals have made a choice to work, a choice to sacrifice, to put themselves on the line to represent you, this high school. That kind of commitment and effort deserves and demands your respect.”
Saturday night CHS marks the 50th anniversary of its girls’ hoops program at halftime of its clash with South Whidbey (7:00 PM tip, preceded by the boys at 5:15).
Like the 101st anniversary of Wolf boys’ basketball in 2018, the night offers a chance to gaze back, marinate in the moment, and look forward.
To appreciate how far Coupeville girls’ basketball has come, all it has accomplished, and the endless possibilities open to current and future players and coaches.
If you take today’s teenagers and tell them there was a time when morons looked young women in the eye and told them they weren’t physically capable of playing God’s Chosen Sport, that their uteruses would fall out, that running the length of the court would send them to a fainting couch — it makes no sense.
Didn’t then, doesn’t now, never will.
In that respect we’re in a better place as we head into 2024 than we were in 1974.
And yet, a lot of schools (not Coupeville) still insist on referring to their girls’ teams as the Lady Hawks or Lady Turks or other such nonsense, like a condescending pat on the head.
Few things irritate me more about sports.
There are no Lady Wolves — and thankfully CHS uniforms don’t use that moniker, thereby sparing me a nightly aneurysm — only WOLVES.
The girls play the same sport, they put in the same work, they make the same commitment, and here in Cow Town, they’ve won more titles and hung more banners than the boys.
Show them some damn respect.
And hopefully, that’s what Saturday’s anniversary represents — respect, honor, a thank you from the community to those who endured too much bullshit, to those who led us into a new age, and to those now carrying the torch.
Honor the past, embrace the present, plan for unending success in the future.
Remember what it was like when you were a little girl and you saw Novi Barron step onto the court, murmur “Give me the damn ball,” and create a new way to play the game.
Remember that moment when Makana Stone snatched a rebound one-handed, rifled a baseball-style pass the length of the court, then followed the pass to snare an offensive board at the other end and slap home the layup.
Remember when Maddie Big Time hit back-to-back buzzer-beating three-balls from the same exact spot on the court (letting fly from in front of the scorer’s table), at the same exact moment (end of the third quarter) in games played 17 days apart.
Remember what it felt like the first time you pulled that uniform on.
Remember what it felt like the last time you pulled that uniform off.
Remember the big wins, the tough losses, the endless drills, the days you spent 17 hours bouncing between ferries and school busses so you could play in front of blind refs in a small gym that smelled like 10-year-old sweat socks.
Remember the moments that we, the fans, saw. And remember the moments that only you, the players and coaches, saw.
If you scored 1,549 points, be proud.
If you scored one point, be proud.
When the moment came, you stepped up. You sacrificed. You bled.
You are all part of something bigger than just one person, and Saturday night is your night.
Coupeville Sports 