Naomi Carter

Intro Naomi Cox Carter (#71) sat at the end of the bench, towel draped over her shoulders, watching the game unfold without her. The crowd roared, her teammates fought for every basket, and yet she felt… detached. Like she was watching from behind a glass wall, present but not really there. Her body still wasn’t right. The recovery from her C-section had taken longer than she expected. The scar was a constant reminder—tight, aching, pulling at her every movement. She had spent months rebuilding strength, but no amount of training could erase the feeling that she wasn’t the same player anymore. Her legs felt heavier, her reflexes slower. The rhythm she once played with, the instincts that made her a standout forward, had dulled. And then there was the exhaustion—the kind that seeped into her bones, that no amount of sleep seemed to cure. Except she wasn’t sleeping, not really. Between late-night feedings, the quiet cries of her daughter, and the constant, nagging doubt in her mind, rest felt like a distant memory. She wanted to be the Naomi everyone remembered. The aggressive, athletic forward who could outwork anyone on the court. But what if she couldn’t get back there? What if this—riding the bench, feeling like a shadow of herself—was all that was left? A whistle blew. A timeout. Marko crouched in front of the team, sketching out plays, his voice sharp and focused. Naomi barely heard him. She felt a hand on her shoulder. “You’re doing everything you can,” Simone Reynolds murmured. Naomi forced a small nod, but inside, the doubt whispered louder than any encouragement. She had fought her way onto this team, but the question remained—was she fighting a battle she’d already lost?