Chapter Text
We have breaking news coming in from up north. The Minnesota Lynx are really keeping us on our toes - after the unexpected and unceremonious resignation of veteran head coach, Gretchen Klein, The Lynx have shocked the WNBA and have announced the hiring of their new head coach, Shelby Goodkind. Goodkind, retired professional soccer player, is fresh off of a five year run as the head coach of Texas A&M Women’s Soccer team. She led the Division I team to three national championship titles. Although she has seemingly never coached or played basketball, she will now be the youngest head coach in professional basketball. As if we could forget, it was during the FIFA Women’s World Cup in Canada, when Goodkind stunned the audience by…
A tap to the shoulder drew Shelby’s green eyes from where they’d been locked to the small screen on the back of the airplane seat in front of her with a start. Turning her head to the source of the touch, she found a girl that couldn’t have been older than 16 staring at her from across the aisle to her right. Shelby, just 30 herself, felt a bit out of place in the leather seats of business class so the sight of what appeared to be an unaccompanied minor sitting there with her was mildly jarring. The girl said something, her lips moving like a question but the sound was muffled by the drone of the airplane and SportsCenter still filling Shelby’s ears.
Pulling out an earbud, Shelby smiled apologetically at the girl. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.”
The girl, wide eyed, pointed to the screen in front of Shelby. “Is that you?” she questioned with a bewildered expression.
Shelby’s penitent smile turned into a pearly white grin. “I do believe it is.”
“And what’s with the chant?” she pressed, nodding to the news story playing in front of them again. Shelby watched herself on the tiny screen. She couldn’t hear the audio anymore, but she saw a version of herself in a cell phone video from months back with her arms around the girls she’d coached. She could read their lips and she knew exactly what words they were singing in the locker room after they’d claimed their championship title.
“It’s more of a singalong,” Shelby corrected nonchalantly. “I believe every game should feel like a home game when you’re with the family unit of your team, and that’s just a little post game reminder.”
The girl nodded along until her expression worried. “And you’re really leaving soccer to coach women’s basketball.”
“God created us to contain multitudes,” Shelby said, repeating the line she’d lived by for most of her career. It was becoming a little more of a mantra over the last week. Details of Shelby’s career shift continued to roll on the screen in her peripheral as their Monday morning flight carried on its path toward Minneapolis, Minnesota.
“You’re not very tall,” the girl stated plainly, giving her chipped nails a passing glance as she carried the conversation.
Shelby, unbothered, let out a small laugh. “Well good thing I’ll just be coaching and not playing then.” She shifted in her seat, smoothing her neat, blonde ponytail. “Besides, Shannon Bobbitt was only five-foot-two, and she carried her own. That’s a few inches shorter than me.”
The girl shrugged like she was suddenly either unimpressed or uninterested, and picked up the headphones that were sitting in her lap. “I don’t know if you’re legendary for this or incredibly dumb. Basketball girls are mean and The Lynx had a terrible season last year.” She turned forward without another word and put her headphones into her ears, effectively ending their conversation.
Shelby raised her eyebrows in surprise at the comment and turned back to her seat. “I guess we’ll find out soon enough,” she mumbled, mostly to herself.
Taking a deep breath, Shelby turned to a much more familiar seatmate sitting directly next to her. Miss Dorothy Campbell, although presently sitting to Shelby’s left, had been Shelby’s right hand woman since they were kids. Dot was embarking on the deep dive into the WNBA with Shelby, continuing her act as her assistant head coach. Shelby couldn't help but laugh at Dot’s furrowed brow, her freckled nose in a book, and noise canceling headphones over her ears to listen to what appeared to be a survival show playing on the screen in front of her.
Shelby leaned over the seat and gave Dot an elbow to the arm. Dot jumped at the sudden contact and pulled her headphones to rest on her shoulders. “Jesus, Shelby,” she gasped.
“Dottie, you’re looking like a sponge over here. Another basketball book?” Shelby questioned, already knowing the answer as she peered at the cover of the book in Dot’s hands. “Basketball Coaching: A Multiple Option System Based on Bill Self and the Kansas Jayhawks. Sounds like you’re already playing the long game. Got anything hard and fast for me to commit to memory?”
Dot rolled her jaw and cocked her head to the side, not looking up from the pages. “Well, for one, dribbling is a whole lot different. More hands than feet.”
“Oddly enough, I knew that one, Dottie.” Shelby laughed and gave Dot’s arm a gentle squeeze before she pointed to the screen in front of her. “And what is going on with Survivor Man, up here?”
“Naked and Afraid, obviously. They are literally naked in front of your face, Shelby.” Dot groaned, provoked by Shelby’s blatant oversight to the nudity. Shelby watched as Dot blew out a deep breath and set down the book in front of her. “Honestly, though, this is more for my own comfort. I feel like they know what I’m feeling,” Dot confessed.
Shelby nodded in agreement. “I’m feeling a little Naked and Afraid, myself. But I feel good about this, in general, Dottie. I think we’re going to do something big here.”
“I trust you,” Dot sighed, sliding her headphones back over her ears. “Maybe it’s that Miss Texas enthusiasm or the fact that you’ve yet to let me down over the last twenty-something years, but I trust you.”
Trust. The word was echoing in Shelby’s head. The journey they were embarking on was going to be an act of trust on every level. It all started with a phone call from an unknown number. It was casual and cordial. More than anything though, it was promising. The Minnesota Lynx ownership was young and willing to take risks to bring the organization into a new era. They saw Shelby’s alternative experience as an opportunity to refresh their game. Shelby knew she should be unnerved by the fish out of water circumstances, but she trusted their vision.
Truthfully, Shelby didn’t know how long the hiring process should take, but she could see a new path for herself being drawn right in front of her eyes. With the promise of a life changing opportunity and the confidence of the team’s ownership, Shelby grabbed the bull by the horns and leaned into the pace of the events unfolding. Only a week after that first phone call, contracts as thick as a novel were signed on a Sunday and Shelby and Dot were packing their bags to fly out Monday.
Before they knew it, the plane touched down at Saint Paul International Airport in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Stepping onto the concrete of the arrivals bay and into the spring air, Shelby zipped her light windbreaker all the way up to her collarbone.
Dot visibly shivered beside her, looking more like a pile of luggage with the number of bags slung over her shoulders and the suitcase sitting next to her. “The high is 91° in Houston today. You might lose me to the climate,” she said without a hint of sarcasm. It wasn’t like it was truly cold in Minneapolis, but with the temperature sitting at 65°, damp air, and a steady breeze, May up north was feeling much different than what they’d experienced down south.
“We’ll acclimate, Dottie,” Shelby assured as she scanned the line of drivers posted nearby. “That’s what this whole process is about; acclimating.”
Shelby finally spotted Goodkind printed neatly across a large white sign, held by a woman standing in front of a shiny black Escalade. Adjusting the bags in her grip, Shelby gestured toward the car. “Looks like us, Dottie.”
As they approached the vehicle, recognition slowly crept onto the driver's face. She was young with dark black hair and a kind face; if Shelby had to guess, she was probably around her age.
“There’s no way I wouldn’t recognize the face that has been plastering our TV screens at the office for the last 24 hours,” the girl said with a warm smile. “You must be Shelby Goodkind and Dorothy Campbell. I’m Martha Blackburn. Welcome to Minneaopolis!”
Shelby extended a hand as best she could with her bags limiting her movement, shaking Martha’s hand and returning the smile she’d been offered. “Martha, so great to meet you,” she said, pausing for a moment as their eyes met, instantly feeling at ease around her. “Has anyone ever told you that you have the most drop dead gorgeous eyes?”
Martha laughed and a shy blush reddened her cheeks, turning to extend a hand to Dot.
“You can call me Dot. But don’t expect me to tell you something nice about your eyes,” Dot stated, shaking Martha’s hand with a polite smile.
“Dot. Of course.” Martha nodded and pointed to the vehicle behind her. “Let’s get you loaded up. I do apologize that I am both your driver and your muscle today. We had a bit of a mixup with our car service.”
Shelby waved a hand dismissively at Martha and circled the vehicle to the trunk. “We just appreciate the hospitality. Thank you for picking us up.”
The three women made quick work of packing the car and were soon buckled in and pulling away from the airport.
“So you mentioned that you don’t usually pick people up from the airport,” Shelby called from the back seat, glancing at Martha’s face through the rearview mirror. “What do you typically do for The Lynx?”
Martha merged onto the highway, active with mid morning airport traffic. “I’m an executive assistant. A little bit of a jack of all trades so stuff like this gets tossed on my plate every once in a while.”
Shelby bit the inside of her lip as she looked out the window, taking in the rapidly approaching city. She’d been in Minneapolis a few times in her career, but never spent too much time looking at it. From the highway, tall buildings downtown rose out of a broad ring of trees alongside the river that wrapped the edges of the city.
“I’m going to have to apologize again,” Martha announced, drumming her fingers against the wheel in a nervous fashion. “We are on a tight schedule today. We’ll be headed right to the arena where our corporate offices are located. I was hoping to take you to start meeting people first, but I think we’ll only have a few minutes before you’ll have to do a press conference.”
“Understandable,” Shelby nodded. “I’m sure there’s lots of questions to answer.”
Martha shook her head, “You don’t know the half of it.”
Twenty minutes from airport to destination, they pulled through a tall black metal gate and into a private entrance of the arena nestled right in the heart of downtown Minneapolis. The arena was shared by The Lynx and their NBA counterpart, The Timberwolves. Even though the city had a quiet bustle to it on a Monday morning, Shelby could already picture the streets packed for game nights.
“Don’t worry about your bags unless you need something,” Martha informed them as they hopped out of the vehicle. “We’ll have them brought up to the offices and we’ll get them where they need to go. We’ll make arrangements for the rest of your belongings back in Houston.”
Shelby knew better than to be caught off guard by the rapid pace of things. She’d spent most of her life either playing in professional sports or coaching them professionally, so she knew that once contracts were signed there was little time to waste. Shelby and Dot followed closely behind Martha. She swiped an employee badge that was hanging from a lanyard around her neck at an ID reader and led them through doors labeled Team Entrance.
“Is what I’m wearing alright for the press conference?” Shelby asked and looked down, never missing a step as they walked down a long hallway lit by bright fluorescent lights. Under her windbreaker, she was dressed rather generically, a gray quarter-zip athletic pullover, dark jeans, and a pair of sneakers. She dressed knowing she’d likely be bouncing between meeting leadership and players all day.
Martha glanced at Shelby, giving her a once over. “You’re perfectly fine in that. We’ll get you some proper Lynx gear later today.”
Their shoes clicked against the large, polished green and white tiles lining the floor, silence now feeling a little heavy for Shelby’s liking. She felt like Martha’s demeanor had tightened when they entered the arena. As they approached the end of the hall, Shelby could hear the buzz of voices and activity from the other side of a set of large metal doors.
Without any fanfare, Martha pulled open the doors. The metal hinges groaned slightly and the court came into view. Thousands of empty navy blue stadium seats circled them. The hard maple planks of the court gleamed, obviously freshly waxed. Arena staff zipped around the court, sweeping floors, testing audio and visual details. The season had not fully kicked off just yet, but the start was rapidly approaching with just under three weeks until the first game. Every piece of the organization was in preparation mode.
Martha’s phone rang. Shelby couldn’t help but notice the panicked look in her eye as she pulled it from her back pocket and checked the caller ID.
“Have a look around,” Martha suggested, preparing to answer the call. “I have to take this. We’ll head to the press conference room in a moment.” She walked off without another word through the doors from where they’d just entered the arena with her phone pressed to her ear, leaving Shelby and Dot looking out at the court.
They stood in silence for a moment before Shelby crossed her arms over her chest and slowly stepped closer to the edge of the court. “What do we think, Dottie?”
Dot walked up from behind her and mirrored her stance, crossing her arms as well. “Well, we’re still working with two nets.”
“Lots of running,” Shelby added with a nod.
“Dribbling, passing, shooting,” Dot listed slowly. “Smaller playing field, no grass stains, the clock actually stops.”
“I never liked the idea that you can tie in soccer, anyways,” Shelby said, rolling her eyes emphatically. “I think we got this. We’re working with our hands instead of our feet. Easy.”
A slender woman with dark wavy hair and a laptop stuffed under her arm shuffled by them. Her eyes flicked to Shelby and Dot. Shelby sent her a friendly smile, sensing her uneasiness in their presence.
“Hi, Shelby Goodkind. New head coach,” Shelby said with a grin and reached out to shake her hand.
“I know who you are,” She stated, expressionlessly ignoring Shelby’s hand. “Shelby Goodkind and Dorothy Campbell. Both born and raised in Fort Travis, Texas. You met while playing youth soccer. Dorothy’s dad was the coach.”
“Dot,” Dot interjected. “Call me Dot.”
She continued, undeterred by Dot. “You played on the same high school team. Dot was a goalie and Shelby played forward and the two of you led your team to the state championships twice. You were recruited together by the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill and won two titles there, as well. Shelby went on to play for the US Women’s National Team and retired after the FIFA World Cup in Canada. Dot had a large gap in her athletic resume after college until Shelby was appointed the head coach position for the women’s soccer team at Texas A&M and brought in Dot as the assistant coach. Shelby was approached by The Lynx and hired as the head coach yesterday, bringing Dot along with her as assistant coach again. Neither of you have any basketball experience.”
Shelby and Dot exchanged looks, slowly blinking at the verbal summary of what sounded like intertwined Wikipedia pages. Still slightly stunned, Shelby nodded her head and folded her hands in front of her. “That about covers it. You sure did your homework...” she trailed off, realizing she had no idea who this woman was.
“Nora Reid. I am an analyst and statistician for the team. Research is part of my job.” Nora shrugged, her lips almost twisting into a smile before she pressed them into a tight line.
“Well, I’m excited to be working with you, Nora,” Shelby said. “I sure could have used someone like you back at Texas A&M.”
“Shelby, Dot. I see you’ve met Nora,” Martha called, returning to the court from behind them. She glanced at her phone once again and let out a wince from between her teeth. “I apologize, but we really have to head to the press conference. We’re officially late. Are you ready, Shelby?”
Shelby let out a steadying breath. “Let’s do it.”
Shelby was no stranger to cameras and press conferences after a decade of interviews and career defining moments. She knew how to hold the upper hand in front of a reporter even in the trickiest of situations and charm her way out of a question before anyone even realized she didn’t answer it. But as Martha led them back through the interior of the arena and into the outer edges of the organization's corporate offices the first time, Shelby could feel her pulse ringing in her ears. Martha was talking to Dot, their voices sounding distant as Shelby ran through every possible question that they could ask. Before she could think much more, they stopped outside of a door where Lord knows how many reporters were already chattering inside.
Martha paused and gave Shelby a sympathetic look as they hovered outside of the door. Shelby felt like there was something Martha knew that she didn’t, and it was more than just the ins and outs of the WNBA.
“Go ahead in,” Martha instructed. “Introduce yourself. Field questions but be brief. I’ll step in if there’s anything you can’t answer right now.”
Shelby nodded and smoothed her hair, popping her lips together. “Got it.”
Without another beat, Martha opened the door to the press conference room. The conversational chatter in the room came to a crashing halt as it was replaced by the snapping of cameras ready to capture the moment Shelby walked into the room. That was the moment when the nerves were turned off and Shelby’s adrenaline and pageant smile kicked on. She’d left pageants in the dust at the age of 16 in favor of soccer, much to her father’s chagrin, but that didn’t mean she didn’t keep the tools she’d picked up nice and sharp.
Shelby finally stepped into the room, the clicking and flashing of cameras doubling and a murmur around the room picking back up again as she crossed the floor to the long table with a singular microphone sitting on it in the center. Gliding into the seat in front of the microphone, Shelby looked out at the room with practiced poise as her eyes drifted across the laser focused stares of the reporters in front of her.
She leaned forward, just slightly, her smile now inches from the microphone. “Hi, there,” she drawled comfortably. “I’m Shelby Goodkind, new head coach of The Minnesota Lynx. I hear y’all have some questions for me.”
The room instantly erupted in chaos. Reporters were yelling over each other, their arms shooting into the air and waving for Shelby’s attention to ask the first question. But Shelby knew she was in control of the chaos. She leaned back just slightly with a gentle smirk before speaking into the microphone again, instantly hushing the room.
“How about I go ahead and address the elephant in the room?” Shelby suggested, gently folding her hands in front of her. “No, I have never coached basketball at any level in my career. In fact, I don’t think I’ve played basketball since Coach Dot and I played HORSE back on the playground in Texas.”
Reporters muttered between each other but, on bated breath, continued watching Shelby at the microphone in front of them. Dot sent her a silent thumbs up from where she and Martha stood against the back wall of the room. Shelby knew she had the press on her hook, letting the pause really weigh on the room for dramatic effect, and she held that smile steady before she continued. She just had to reel them in at that point.
“Maybe I don’t know much about basketball, but what I do know a whole lot about is how to lead a group of young ladies to become the best version of themselves as a team. That is why The Lynx ownership approached me and why I decided to come on board. No matter what sport you’re playing, the enthusiasm of the coach passed to the players is critical. As a former professional athlete myself, I certainly know you can never stop training and perfecting your game as an individual and as a unit. And lastly, I know The Lynx are going to hit the field and give it their all this season.”
“Court,” a voice called out from the crowd. “Basketball is played on a court.”
Shelby tipped her head back in an exaggerated laugh. “Thank you for calling that out. Workin’ to break those habits still. Let’s hope a little terminology mix up is the only habit I need to break, and I don’t kick a basketball right at our point guard, huh?”
The room hummed with light laughter and Shelby bit back a coy grin. They were seconds from eating out of the palm of her hand. She didn’t even need a hook anymore.
“And you know,” she began, pausing to take a small sip of the glass of water sitting on the table in front of her. “I was just telling my friend Coach Campbell how excited I am to get away from the whole tie business that they let slide in soccer. You win or you lose, am I right?”
The laughter built and Shelby was certain the room was officially disarmed. She knew there would be real questions as soon as the season officially started, but today was about showing face and being on the front end of defense. She was willing to recognize how ornery the concept of a soccer star turned college coach taking on a WNBA coaching job was, but it was more important to prove to everyone that she could do it.
Shelby peered around the room as hands started to raise again. She’d have to answer a few direct questions before she was free to go. She made eye contact with a middle-aged man with dark rimmed glasses in a worn tweed suit at the edge of the room with his hand gently lifted above his shoulder. He looked harmless enough.
“You, with the glasses,” Shelby called with a soft laugh. “I do apologize, I don’t know names or faces yet but I know we’ll all get real familiar, real fast.”
The man stood and cleared his throat, seemingly disinterested in Shelby’s pleasantries. “Daniel Faber, ESPN. I’ll try to be brief here and I appreciate that you covered the big obvious question. But with the news coming out within the last hour about the change of Lynx ownership, isn’t it a little obvious that your hiring wasn’t so much because you are the best person for the job, but perhaps an immature pawn placed to dilute the value and respect for The Lynx organization?”
The tables had turned and Shelby found herself fully blindsided. She knew nothing about a change in ownership.
“Thank you for your question, Faber,” Martha said, suddenly stepping in from the side of the room to take the microphone away from Shelby. “Unfortunately, we cannot answer any questions about the change in ownership at this time. We won’t be taking any other questions today. Appreciate you all coming out.”
Martha quietly turned to Shelby. “Come on. We need to go.”
As soon as they exited the press conference room and the door was shut behind them, Shelby felt Dot clap her on the shoulder firmly. “You did good, Shelby. Are you alright?”
Shelby’s head was spinning at the way things had turned on a dime. She looked between Dot and Martha, unable to speak.
“You did really well, Shelby,” Martha said, her voice swimming in sincerity. “He shouldn’t have asked you that question and we should have talked to you first.”
Shelby shook her head. She could feel her forehead creasing and a tension headache creeping up her neck. “What happened with the owners? I just talked to Regan du Pont yesterday after signing my contract. What changed in the last hour?”
Martha pursed her lips and she sighed through her nose. “Regan is no longer an owner of The Lynx. We better get you to the owner's suite. You need to talk to Toni.”