Chelsea Prescott — without a doubt, the most talented athlete, male or female, in the Coupeville High School Class of 2021. (Photos by JohnsPhotos.net)
She was “The Natural.”
When you look at the Coupeville High School Class of 2021, there is no debate over which graduate was the most naturally-gifted athlete.
Chelsea Prescott stands above the pack, and it didn’t matter the sport.
From volleyball to basketball to softball, with a stop off to play baseball as a little leaguer, Chelly has seemingly been front and center every step of the way.
I can remember her as a middle school ace, pounding the snot out of a volleyball which then caught a rival player flush in the face on its way back to Earth.
At an age when many players tend to hit looping “spikes,” Prescott had already mastered the art of smashing the ball with a righteous fury, sending it where she wanted to, and making dang sure there was little chance the ball would be returned.
On this play, ball met face, there was a sound like a watermelon smashing into concrete after being lobbed off the Empire State Building, and then the other team’s player went to the floor like a rag doll.
A brief moment of eerie silence, then the appearance of Coupeville Athletic Director Willie Smith, equipped with multiple towels to mop up blood and sweat mingling on the floor.
Most everyone on the floor stood in slight shock, except Prescott, who looked rightfully concerned — she has always seemed like a kind, caring young woman — but also had the trace of a smile dancing at the corners of her mouth.
In that moment, her rep as a stone-cold killer was established, and while Chelsea meant no harm, sometimes you have to break a few eggs to make an omelet, so to speak.
Prescott could be lethal at times.
Just ask the Montesano High School assistant softball coach who took one of her wicked line drives right off of his ankle during the state tourney.
He did a whole lot less crap-talking about Coupeville after she tattooed him, and again, a slight smile dancing around the corners of her mouth.
Through all the games I saw her play, I loved that about her — Chelsea didn’t care how big your rep was, or how much publicity your program got.
Between the lines, she never backed down, and she always played with a slight edge to her game.
“Just try and catch my heater!”
It served her well when she was playing baseball, the only young woman on a field filled with boys who, like teen boys everywhere, often thought they had more talent than they did.
Hucking fastballs with the best of them, Prescott held her own on the pitcher’s mound, in the field, and at the plate, until the difference in body sizes made the transition to softball as she entered high school the right choice.
From the moment she stepped on the CHS diamond, she was the complete package — speed, power, a gun for an arm, and brains for days.
Playing deep in the hole at shortstop, Prescott erased many a runner who naively thought they would easily beat out an infield hit.
When the ball popped into Veronica Crownover’s glove over at first a step or two before the hitter’s arrival, the hitters all learned a painful lesson.
Never bet against Prescott. Ever.
Like a bat out of Hell.
At the plate, she would launch low, screaming liners which would find pay-dirt, then kick away from the outfielder as she hauled butt around the base-paths.
A single became a double, a safe two-bagger morphed into a triple, as Prescott got her uniform dirty diving into the bag a half-second before the throw arrived — all while her teammates came charging home ahead of her, building up her RBI totals.
Chelsea made it to the state tourney in both softball and volleyball, but she was equally talented on the basketball court, where she could flip the nets with her shot-making.
Always on the attack.
Really, I believe she would have been a success in whatever sport she chose.
Toss her a tennis racket, put her on a soccer field or a track oval, give her a few days, and Prescott would have been among the best to be wearing a red and black uniform.
Genuine, all-encompassing talent is rare, but Chelsea had it from the first moment I saw her play.
But as good an athlete as she was, or, more appropriately, as she still is, as she prepares to play college volleyball, defining Prescott only as an athlete would not do her full credit.
She is a bright and bold young woman, capable of doing 10,002 things I have no aptitude for — from repairing cars to fixing toilets to pressure-washing houses.
Quarantine cost her a softball season, but Prescott filled those hours developing a skill set which will serve her well when she has to lead us all through the apocalypse.
Through it all, from being ahead of the curve as a middle schooler to rightfully claiming the CHS Athlete of the Year award in her final moments as a Wolf, she has often been brilliant.
Better yet, Chelsea has always been a class act, in how she carries herself in good times and bad, and how she interacts with teammates and rivals, coaches, and family, friends, and fans.
She didn’t have to yak at anyone and try and tell us how good she was. She proved that the best way possible — through her actions.
I knew, way back when she was in 7th grade, this was likely going to end with her being inducted into the Coupeville Sports Hall o’ Fame.
It’s tricky, looking at a middle school athlete and being able to forecast, correctly, that they will continue on a path of excellence.
Some do. Some don’t.
Life throws up obstacles. People change. Potential doesn’t always pay off.
In her case, however, the bet hit big.
Chelsea Prescott impressed me in middle school, as an athlete and a person. She impressed me in high school. I am confident she will continue to impress me for a very long time.
Putting her up there, at the top of the blog, under the Legends tab? It just fits.
She was made for this. Every step of the way.
A warrior, always. (Cory Prescott photo)
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