G19 | Garavani Emerald Avenger
G19 | Garavani Emerald Avenger
Last edited by The JZA on 09 Sep 2025, 00:10, edited 1 time in total.
G19 | Garavani Emerald Avenger
Chapter I: The Beginning Of Things
The final buzzer echoed through Chase Center, bouncing off the rafters like a warning shot. 106–87. The Los Angeles Sparks had come to town not just to hoop, but to remind the Golden State Valkyries that nothing comes easy in the W. Players exchanged quick daps and smiles at midcourt, the usual postgame routine. But for Garavani Pippen, adrenaline still buzzing from her first-ever WNBA minutes, this wasn’t just another handshake line. She spotted her chance.
“Khyri! Khyri!” she called out, hustling across the hardwood.
Khyri Blu, still wiping sweat from her forehead, turned with a grin as Garavani reached her.
“Hey, awesome game tonight!” Garavani said, her smile wide, dap already extended. “Eighteen points, five boards, seven assists—you, Azurá, and Cameron weren’t playing about spoiling our debut, huh?”
Khyri’s laugh came easy as she slapped Garavani’s hand. “That’s right. We don’t take anyone lightly, no matter who we’re playing. And the energy in here? Man, your home crowd came ready to party. Next time, just give ’em a W to celebrate.” Her tone shifted, softening. “But listen—I wanted to tell you congratulations. Making it here is no joke. It’s criminal you went undrafted, but don’t let that hang on you. Use it. Let it fuel you. I know that chip on the shoulder life.”
Garavani nodded eagerly, her eyes shining. “Wow… my GOAT is really standing here giving me advice right now.” She caught herself, straightening up. “I appreciate that, for real. I’ve watched you and Recks tear it up in both leagues, flipping the whole script. Tell me—what’s your secret?”
Khyri chuckled, then grew thoughtful. “Truth? It’s three things. One: believe in yourself, no matter what. Nobody’s gonna hand you a damn thing here. Two: put in the work. Late nights, early mornings—don’t cut corners. That’s how you separate good from great. And three? Have fun. Hooping should feed your soul, not drain it. When you play with joy, people feel that. Teammates, fans, everybody.”
She tapped Garavani’s arm, grinning again. “And yeah, having a partner-in-crime like Recks helps. But the point is, you got this. Don’t let anyone dim your light. The league is lucky to have you.” She started to jog toward the tunnel, flashing a sly smile over her shoulder. “And remember: always bet on Black—and Blu.”
Garavani threw both arms up, laughing. “I’M ALWAYS GON’ BET ON BLACK AND BLU, GIRL! WHEW!”
As the teams filed off the court, her debut still stinging from the lopsided score, Garavani felt something else stirring beneath the loss. She’d logged her first points, first rebound, first assist—small steps, but steps all the same.
Tonight taught her quick: this wasn’t Fairfield, this wasn’t France. The W was a dog town. No shortcuts, no freebies. To survive, she’d need to bare her fangs, bark the loudest, and back every word up with bite.
But for now? The learning curve was the meal on her plate. And Garavani Pippen was hungry.
The night air in San Francisco was cool, the buzz of the city dimming as Garavani finally pulled into the driveway. Her legs were heavy, her body aching, but her heart still raced from the chaos of the day. The Valkyries had taken their first hit—an opening-night loss to the Sparks—but for Garavani, the memory of stepping on that floor, hearing the crowd roar, and trading words with her idol, Khyri Blu, was already carved deep into her spirit.
When she opened the door, the familiar sauntering smell and the low hum of the kitchen vent wrapped around her like a blanket.
“Hey, kiddo! Good to see you home safe,” Alan greeted, still in his work slacks, tie loose and jacket draped over a chair. “How was your first game?”
“Hey, Dad.” She dropped her bag by the door and hugged him quick. “It was… bittersweet.”
Alan raised an eyebrow.
“My first game in the league and I only played garbage time.” She flopped onto the stool at the island counter, propping her chin on her hand. “But—get this—I got to talk with Khyri Blu! You know how I love me some Khyri. She was everything I imagined her to be.” Garavani’s whole face lit up, her voice bouncing with excitement.
Alan chuckled, his eyes crinkling. “That’s fantastic, kid. Ain’t been there for two cups of Joe and you’re already connecting. Khyri is a class act and a hell of a player. You think you can hang with her?”
Garavani scoffed, throwing her hands on her hips. “Can I? Can I? …Well, I don’t know, Dad, I only played two minutes!”
Alan smirked, leaning on the counter with arms folded. “Well, that’s five points you didn’t have before. Season’s just getting started.”
“Yeah.” She grinned sheepishly. “Khyri told me it was a crime I went undrafted, that I shouldn’t let it weigh me down. Said to use it as fuel. I don’t know though—I probably was incoherent. I was too starstruck.”
Alan shook his head, laughing. “Starstruck on the court? Damn, you really are green. We gotta work on your composure, kid.”
She reached over and punched his arm lightly. “Hey now, your daughter was a star in France!”
“Alright, alright,” he said, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “You proved your point. But you know the league is a different beast. Over here, everybody’s the best of the best, even athletes from all over the world come to play in the WNBA. To compete, you gotta bring your A-game every night, whether the lights are on you or not.”
Garavani nodded, sobering. “Yeah, I know. Just wish you could’ve been there, even if it was just for those two minutes. Guess work’s still eating you alive, huh? California’s been rough on you since the transfer.”
Alan sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “You know how it is. But I promise, I’ll make it to as many games as I can. Your old man’s always got your back. Don’t forget that.”
“You better,” she said, fist bumping him with a grin. “I’ll give you some time to get settled before I start demanding sideline appearances.”
She wrinkled her nose, catching the aroma from the stove. “Wait a minute… what you cooking up, OG?”
Alan turned, lifting the lid off the pot. Steam carrying the savory smell of chili filled the kitchen. “Whipping up some of my famous chili. The recipe your mother used to make. Figured after a long day, comfort food might hit the spot. Plus, thought we could catch up a little.”
Garavani’s stomach growled, and she hopped off the stool, grinning. “Man, that smells so good. I can’t wait!” She grabbed bowls and silverware, setting the table. “I’m surprised you don’t have paperwork out tonight. Back home in Stamford, you were always chained to the dinner table, laptop glowing until midnight.”
Alan chuckled as he stirred the pot, adding a dash of hot sauce. “Yeah, the West Coast’s a little kinder, for now. Better hours, better pay. Still an adjustment, though. And you’re right—I’ve been so caught up with work, I haven’t had much time for us.” He ladled chili into the bowls and set them down. “Here you go, kid.”
“Thanks!” Garavani added slices of wheat bread to her plate before digging in. The first bite warmed her straight through, easing the last of her postgame frustration.
Father and daughter sat together at the kitchen table, swapping stories—some about basketball, most about everything else. For a while, it wasn’t about the loss, the stat sheet, or the pressure of living up to a dream. It was just two people, sharing a meal, laughing at old jokes, and carving out a pocket of peace in the grind of their new lives.
Simple moments, Garavani thought. That’s the fuel too...
G19 | Garavani Emerald Avenger
Soapy,
What's good?
Captain Canada, We here. Took me a while since my last attempt to see how I wanted to play it. I guess a little branch off won't hurt nobody
redsox907, Reasonably so. I got a NBA team/player-chise possibly cooking on the back burner, but WNBA is a half the season length. I'm gonna pivot off this and see if I can rekindle that 2K love I grew up on since 2K5.
G19 | Garavani Emerald Avenger
Need more 3s my boy (girl)
G19 | Garavani Emerald Avenger
Chapter II: The Hunger For More
The hardwood gleamed under the fluorescent lights, nearly empty now except for the echo of a lone ball bouncing. Practice had ended almost three hours ago. Most players were long gone, some still in the training room, others already home icing their knees or FaceTiming family. But Garavani Pippen? She was still here, drenched in sweat, hoisting jumpers like the season depended on it.
In some ways, it did.
Since her brief burst of minutes in New York, three weeks had come and gone without her seeing the floor. The Valkyries had stumbled to a 2–5 skid, looking for answers, experimenting with rotations. Brionna Jones had come in from Atlanta. Kayla Thornton was out hurt. The team was searching. But Garavani? She stayed stapled to the bench, watching opportunities slip by.
Shot after shot swished, her rhythm sharp but her patience thinning.
From the office above, Coach Natalie Nakase stood peering through the blinds. A smirk tugged at her lips. The rookie was still grinding, still shooting when the gym should’ve been silent. After a moment, she stepped out, sneakers squeaking softly as she crossed the baseline.
“I like this,” Nakase said, nodding. “I like this a lot. Extra work—it’s always good to see.”
Garavani took another jumper, net snapping. She exhaled, grabbed the ball on the rebound. “I just wanna stay ready for when my number’s called.”
“That’s the right attitude.” Nakase scooped up the next rebound, fired it back to her. “Always be prepared for your opportunity. You know…” She paused, smiling gently. “I see a lot of myself in you. That hunger, that chip on your shoulder. It’s refreshing.”
Garavani dribbled into a pull-up. “Yeah, I read up on you—two knee injuries, early in your career. That had to be tough, walking away. Hopefully my passion lives up to your standard.” The ball clanked off the rim.
Nakase caught it, holding it for a beat as she walked alongside her. “It was tough, no doubt. But I wouldn’t change a thing. Those injuries taught me resilience, taught me there’s more than one way to contribute to this game. And trust me, your passion? It’s already obvious.”
Garavani tucked the ball under her arm, her voice sharper now. “I’m glad you see that. But I gotta ask—what’s the deal with my role? Two minutes in my debut, twenty against New York… and nothing since. I know y’all didn’t sign me from France just to keep me warming the bench.”
Nakase’s face shifted, thoughtful, serious. “You’re right. We didn’t bring you here to sit. Truth is, I’m still figuring out how to fit your skills into our system.”
Garavani bounced the ball behind her back, pacing. “I get that, Coach. I’m not trying to step on toes, but I want the chance to show you. The season’s still young. Maybe I could carve out some minutes against Indiana, maybe Connecticut? Just give me a window and I’ll prove myself.”
Nakase nodded slowly, that smirk returning. “You know what? Why not.” She raised a finger. “Here’s the deal—keep putting in this kind of work, and I’ll make sure you get minutes in those games. Show me what you’ve got, and we’ll go from there.”
Garavani’s grin stretched wide, though deep down she knew it could be fluff for buying more time before actually doing something with her. Still, a window was all she needed.
“Aight, Coach. Keep those minutes warm for me.” She tossed on a cocky smile, but it wasn’t for show. It was hunger, sharp as broken glass.
Two years in college. Two years overseas. Every court she touched, she earned her stripes. And now, with the W finally dangling a door cracked open, Garavani Pippen was ready to kick it down.
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Captain Canada
- Posts: 4726
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
G19 | Garavani Emerald Avenger
Slowly getting more and more comfortable and producing more.