Adia's faith is quiet and strong, a foundation block to her life, not something to bludgeon people with. She wears her cross and values her Bible, but she doesn't preach in the locker room or talk in terms of Heaven and Hell. She's a California girl, and they're easygoing about almost everything, so maybe that has something to do with it. If she prays, she does so silently or alone. She keeps it to herself. She won't freak out if she accidentally mentions it in a conversation, but she won't make a point of bringing it up. She doesn't talk about what church she calls hers, but everyone assumes it's one of the Protestant ones. It's given her a sense of balance that so many people her age lack; she knows that she can both love God and love women.

Ashley's faith is basketball. She counts her stats like beads on a rosary, steals like novenas, assists like Hail Marys; how many does she need to atone for the sins of turnovers, missed shots, fouls? She steps into the arena like she's coming into a cathedral, eyes wide, head swiveling to see everything at once. Three-pointers really are her desperation prayers, two-point shots merely routine prayers like children say at night. Geno may not be God, but he and Anne and every other coach she's ever known or known of know far more about this religion than she can ever dream; sharp suits are the cassocks and habits of her faith, the tournament-time pin or the network mic like the white collar of a priest.

Iziane is Brazilian, from the largest Catholic country in the world. She feels entitled, and at the same time spurned. How dare the cardinals elect a German to lead the church; how dare teams not recognize her talent by cutting her and ignoring her? Basketball is nearly as old a tradition in Brazil as it is in the United States, the women's sport the way soccer is to American girls. She has a deep, abiding belief that she will come out on top, laugh with the saints while others cry with the sinners. She knows how to smile while the knife cuts deep. She knows how to go with the trappings and traditions, believes profoundly and unwaveringly. "So nao podera falar assim do," she says, and she just smiles when they ask her to translate, and the knife cuts a litle deeper.

Chelle was raised in the Southern tradition of loud, passionate churches. A Texas girl, Baptists and Methodists were all she knew while growing up, fire and brimstone the only kind of sermon she believes a preacher can give; for many years, 'thou shalt NOT' governed her life, not 'thou shalt'. She's been lied to and betrayed over and over again, and she doesn't talk about it much, but she's the kind of person who turns inward when that happens, so she internalized everything and became ever more devout, hiding inside her shell. Betty's the one who coaxed her out from behind that shy exterior, the only one who can get her to open up, the only one who makes her comfortable with casual cursing and girls who kiss in the locker room.

Natalia doesn't know what she believes anymore. Is she allowed to believe in God and Christ and the solemn ceremony of the Orthodox Church? Or does she still have to put her faith in the government? She wants to believe in something, but she isn't sure where to start. It doesn't help that she's in a strange country where she doesn't speak the language and the only words her teammates know of her tongue are either basic or profane. Her confusion makes her insecure; her insecurity makes her hesitant; her hesitation makes Coach raise her voice in anger. She's scared and alone. No matter how much Sue tries to reassure that she belongs in this league, one of the things she doesn't know how to believe in is her own skill.

So when Coach walks into the locker room and announces what she's doing with the small forward slot, the five women have five different reactions. Adia, the odd woman out, bows her head over her cross wth tears in her eyes, gathers her things, and leaves before anyone can see her crying; she makes herself believe that it was God's will, and He will open another door for her if she works hard enough. Ashley just nods and grabs a ball to do some shooting around in the practice gym. Iziane has a smile on her face that's more like a smirk if someone looks closely. Chelle lets out a whoop that makes everyone turn their heads, bear-hugs Coach, then jumps joyfully into Betty's outstretched arms and lets Betty parade her around the locker room. Natalia lets out a sigh of relief and murmurs a thank-you to- but to whom, she doesn't know.