"May you live every day of your life."

- Jonathan Swift

The newcomers experienced their first Montana road trip a couple weekends ago. The road has thrown us some curves this season, but nothing can compare to the atmosphere and fierce competition of the Frontier Conference. Everyone is out for blood. The target on our backs has magnified. We are now 7-0 in conference play, the only undefeated team heading into the second half of the conference season.

Preparing for games and practices is a daily routine that most of us have done for more than half our lives. For some the sport has been lost in the glory of winning and awards. The routine becomes a set of motions that are void of attention and care.

The home jersey, dri-fit fabric, stretchy soft, workable.

Braces yanked tight around ankles. Braces rubbed blue and rank from months of sweat and life inside a poorly circulated shoe. Laces of that shoe wrenched tight, foot straight forward for extra oomph, hoping to lose the slack caused by the extra layer of brace.

The everyday ritual prior to practices, shoot arounds and games. The company of 10 other women fighting for the one next to them, suppressing pain, fatigue, personal strife. Hoping for the best in each other. When one is down, the next picks them up with a quick, "You’ve got it," or "Keep it up." The repetition of these actions are lost in the distractions of other personal activities and the importance and significance of the moment is forgotten.

Sometimes, the urgency of our team, our goal, our purpose is lost, set aside for something less urgent, less precious. There are many people who have never been given a chance like ours. We have fans that travel hundreds of miles in horrible road conditions to watch us play. But it’s not just a game. It’s a lifestyle. A state of mind. Pride. Family. Belonging to something much bigger than yourself. Bigger than a team, a community that cares about our journey and wants nothing more than to see us succeed.

One of those very special people, Ben Austin, was taken in an accident two weeks ago coming home from Butte. His excitement for life and care for others was amazing. He was an avid supporter of our team and gracious just to share in our experience. The experience of a team, that plays a game. A game that brings people together. A game that fosters life-long relationships. But only a game to those who don’t share our understanding.

Before last weekend’s games against Rocky and Carroll, I took time to reflect on what this all means to me. I’ve spent a lifetime trying to unravel the many dimensions of basketball, and I haven’t even cracked the surface. Every player goes through a "dry spell," internal conflict about their game. Sometimes we don’t know what is wrong and haven’t a clue how to fix it. Sometimes we feel sorry for ourselves. Life is fleeting, as we have recently been reminded, we’re here and gone. I catch myself bogged down in FEAR. Fear of everything sometimes at all once. But we have this, right now. This practice, this game, this team, this season, this journey. There is no room for fear, worry and doubt. Michael Jordan said, "I've missed more than 9000 shots in my career. I've lost almost 300 games. 26 times, I've been trusted to take the game winning shot and missed. I've failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why I succeed."