McKayla Bailey: She’s kind of a big deal. (John Fisken, Shelli Trumbull and Janine Bundy photos)
Every once in a while, I hear the same thing in regards to coverage here on Coupeville Sports.
“You play favorites.”
To which I respond, “Don’t be stupid. Of course I do.”
And it has little to do with whose parents have donated or bought ads from me, and whose parents have not.
The better you are as an athlete, the more sports you play, the more you get involved, your willingness to pose for photos — all factors.
Then, sometimes, it just depends on your personality.
If you’re a ray of sunshine, it’s going to be easier to cover you. Be a pain in the ass, and it’ll be easier to ignore you.
It’s not rocket science.
With all that said, there is no doubt McKayla Bailey is right there at the top on my short list of favorite Wolf athletes of all time.
Miss Bailey, who celebrates a birthday today, has always been everything you could hope for, and it’s not hard to figure out why she has often been the face of Coupeville Sports in the three-plus years of our existence.
First, we start with talent, both on the field and off.
A gunslinger who carried her squad to the state tourney as a softball slinger, McKayla was also a splendid volleyball, soccer and basketball player.
Injuries slowed her down a bit in her old age, but, when she was sidelined, she was always among the loudest ‘n proudest when it came time to cheer on her teammates.
Let’s face it, Bailey would have been an awesome Wolf cheerleader … though the mere thought of waving pom poms seemed to make her break out in hives.
She could holler like nobody’s business, loved the spotlight (you think?) and could have commanded a crowd by herself.
But, like I said, the hives…
McKayla preferred to be in the thick of things, swinging elbows and collecting scalps (metaphorically … most times), and she was always one of those athletes who left every last bit of sweat, every ounce of effort, every muttered thought about incompetent umpires, on the field.
She fought like a woman possessed, and the epic grin showed the delight she took in the butt-kicking.
Off the field, Bailey is a smart one (and maybe a bit of a smart ass at times…), a multi-talented young woman who would win a softball game, then sprint off at a dead run to go deliver a speech to the National Honor Society.
While making up the speech in her head as she covered the short distance between the diamond and the PAC.
But, of course, what has always set McKayla truly apart from all others, is her complete, unblinking devotion to being the greatest thing to happen to sports photographers since the birth of the digital camera.
She would pose for a hundred photos, then pose for a hundred more just to make sure the focus was on, then a hundred more just cause she had suddenly had some more photo op ideas bounce madly across her brain pan.
The absolute queen of the photo bomb (approached only by the legendary duo of lil’ sis McKenzie Bailey and old school pro Taya Boonstra), McKayla had it down to a science.
It’s one thing to know when to suddenly pop up, but she knew where the camera was going to click before the photographer did and her surprise appearances were downright uncanny at times.
It was as if all the girls in the Bailey family were born with a special sense, an ESP involving cameras.
There is a photo of a Wolf girls basketball game in which every single person in the gym (players, coaches, refs, fans) are looking one way, while McKayla, impish grin on her face, is looking the other way — directly into the eye of the camera.
So, then we top this all off with the fact Miss Bailey is also one of the friendliest, most genuine people you will meet, and it’s not hard to see why she would be on my favorites list.
And hey, she put up with me over four years, even when I called her a “diaper dandy,” so bonus points.
As she plows through her freshman year of college, we want to send McKayla the biggest of birthday wishes. May cake overflow for you today, and every day.
You’re awesome, Bailey, as awesome as awesome gets.
Never change.
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