This story appears in SLAM 263. Get your copy here.

Presence. It’s one of life’s quietest virtues. It’s what keeps you grounded, what pushes you to take the next step, and what allows people to see you for who you truly are. Presence isn’t always loud. Sometimes, it’s simply the decision to keep showing up as yourself.

On the basketball court, players are constantly told to make their presence known. Be the leader. Set the tone. Change the game before your name ever appears in the box score. True presence isn’t measured by points alone. It’s felt in the way you carry yourself, the confidence you inspire in your teammates, the person you prove yourself to be every single day.

Not everyone can answer that call.

The call to become more than what’s in front of you. To push through setbacks. To keep moving when the path ahead isn’t clear. To put one foot in front of the other without losing sight of who you are. Sometimes the call comes from outside the house, but the call that matters most is the one from within.

For Olivia Miles, that call echoed for 365 days, with the whole world creating its own narratives: Will she live up to expectations? Is she really as good as they say? When they call her name, will she be ready?

Like a flower swaying in the wind, growth doesn’t come from standing still. It comes from weathering storms, staying rooted and trusting that even when the light disappears, you’re still becoming who you’re meant to be. “I know I can play the game at a high level,” Miles says. “I wouldn’t be saying it if I didn’t put the work in, and I trusted in myself. I feel like my game has done the talking for me there.”

Presence became something she had to learn, not just on the court, but within herself. An ACL injury can make you obsess over what’s next. The next milestone. The next workout. The next game. But healing demanded something different. “I wasn’t really where my feet were at. I think, especially with ACL progression, it’s like, When can I run next? When can I jump? It’s never, What am I doing at the moment? And not skipping steps,” Miles reflects.

Contrary to popular belief, flowers can bloom in the dark. When the world grows quiet and no one is watching, that’s often where the strongest growth begins. The time you spend talking with your reflection, saying the quiet thoughts aloud, coaching yourself through the step you’re in and preparing for the stride that’s next. “I think presence is required in that. You can’t think ahead too many games. You can’t think behind if you had a bad game or whatnot. Just remaining present,” Miles says.

While smiling and giggling off the court but staying focused and zeroed in between the lines, Miles crossed each opponent off her list. She found her stride on the way to being named Big 12 Player of the Year, averaging 19.6 ppg, 7.2 rpg and 6.6 apg while showing up everywhere.

With debates swirling about when her name would be called at the 2026 WNBA Draft, Miles knew that wherever she landed, she would embrace it and be the best she could be.

“I knew it was going to be hard, and that’s kind of what intrigued me about it all. I like the challenge. I like a coach who is going to push me. I got very blessed,” Miles says about draft night.

As she stares across the gym of the Mayo Clinic practice facility, the four Lynx championship trophies glisten, and you can see Liv’s eye twinkle, knowing her journey led her here. The banners don’t just hang from the rafters. They become part of the expectation. Miles feels it every time she walks through the building. 

“The winning habits around the banners, the Hall of Famers, the rings, the championships that you walk past every day before practice…it’s a standard set, and you kind of just get in that mindset when you’re in here,” she says. “You have no choice but to be great because there’s greatness all around you.”

A Hall of Fame coach: Cheryl Reeve. A Defensive Player of the Year: Napheesa Collier. A champion: Natasha Howard. Two of the toughest guards in the League: Courtney Williams and Kayla McBride. A recipe for success, but also a new environment to navigate.

Even with all the confidence Liv built, there was still uncertainty. “I didn’t know it at the time, but when I did hear my name called, I was excited, but I was very nervous for the new environment that I was in,” she says.

Her first moment came against the Chicago Sky on May 23. The Lynx were off to a rough start, trying to figure things out through trial and error in the first half. Hearing your name called as a rookie is an honor to the public, but it’s a responsibility to the player. In a moment that felt like defeat, Collier pulled her rookie aside and not only challenged her but pointed her in the direction of greatness: I know you’re new. I know you’re a rookie. But it’s your job as a point guard to get the team together.

Again, that call came. Olivia answered it without hesitation.

“I really had to grow up in that moment and be like, OK, obviously Phee is out and she’s one of the leaders. I really have to be confident in what I’m saying and command the room,” Miles recalls. “Like I said, it was uncomfortable, but I had to do it.”

The Lynx would go on a six-game winning streak, with Olivia reaching a flow state, averaging 19.6 ppg, 5.9 rpg and 6.7 apg. Each game turned more heads. The dry-cut shiftiness that only she can bring, the dimes that make you rewind the TV because she faked you while you were watching on the couch. It’s The Olivia Miles Show.

The lesson came quickly.

“When you’re in the pros, no one’s waiting on you,” Miles says. “They expect you to be ready and do what you do and show up as you are and as you’re ready.”

If that doesn’t say she’s ready, we don’t know what does.

Olivia Miles bloomed before our eyes. #OliviaMiles trended. Basketball greats gave their nod. Ball knowers began calling for the next “Magic” Miles. Everyone watched the flower that grew from the concrete, her petals unfolding to reveal what had always been there.

She claimed her spot and did what she does best: wear her crown. Because the true beauty was never just in the crown itself—it was in the confidence to wear it.

“I think it was another thing that I really embodied after I got hurt, sort of a spiritual awakening in a way where I just learned not to care what people think about me and [how] I dress or how I look or whatever that may be. I never wore my hair out before I got hurt,” Miles reflects.

On draft night, Miles posted a strong yet subtle Instagram caption for those who see her: “For my fellow Black women with natural hair like mine…be you and be free. The beauty that our hair brings is so unique and essential to who we are. Love you all.” A powerful message. An understanding message that speaks to who she is more than anything.

“I think that was the world kind of speaking to me and just allowing me to be free,” she says. “And it was a symbol of my freedom and, again, not caring what people have to say and truly being me in whatever I wanted to do in that moment.”

Standing tall in who she is and staying where her feet are planted is what makes her so special. The stage has never mattered because, regardless, Olivia is here to hoop. 

She sees the game from a vantage point we haven’t experienced yet. A guard able to see the big picture in a split second, instantly adding the missing details or building onto an already great piece, is one of one. In every press conference, Cheryl Reeve can be heard talking about how many questions Liv asks in practice, on the sidelines and occasionally during games. Not because she doesn’t know the answer, but because she wants to understand and let it move through her game effortlessly.

Miles credits Reeve for creating an environment where the details matter just as much as the highlights.

“Cheryl, she allows us to play in her system but also to really focus on what matters in championship habits, and those are the details,” Miles says. “Those are obsessing over the little things that can get you over the top and create advantages for your team to win.”

As the point guard, she’s tasked with knowing where everyone is at every moment. Seeing timing, space and windows on both ends of the floor to ensure a seamless transition in and out of schemes and moments.

Asked what people often overlook about the position, Miles smiles. “Some of my shooters like a pass into a quick stop shot or something like a one-two, or one of my posts likes to roll on the left side more than the right side,” she says. “It’s little things like that where you have to understand, and it gets easier as you get in games with people, but you really have to take the time and understand the feel for the game and how to set your teammates up around you.”

 

As Olivia describes her game and how she’s adjusted, she taps her foot or slightly jabs. Similar to how she got ready during her cover shoot, from one pose to the next, there’s a slight shift in her vibe. Her body opens up, her voice gets a little smoother and she instantly looks relaxed.

“It’s little things like that where you have to pick up on energy and rhythm and the cadence of the offense and how it’s going. As a coach, that’s kind of what she looks for as well. It’s like, How is our offense flowing? Then it’s ultimately my fault if it’s not going in the right direction. I have to be on my Ps and Qs with that, too,” Miles says.

You’ve seen the viral clips of Olivia being Olivia, letting her presence be felt through every crossover, drive through the lane, reverse layup or stepback three. This is Olivia Miles. Drawing one, two, three or sometimes even your whole squad is just what she does. 

“On the court, it’s like you’re going to feel me in my presence. I don’t know why it’s so different. It’s hard to explain, but it’s just unconscious when I’m out there,” Miles says.

There’s a switch that takes place from “Chill Liv” to “In That Mode Liv.” Looking back, Miles says it’s hard to recognize the player in the “you can’t guard me” clips and moments that others have used to define her. “It’s just kind of a persona I embody on the court, and then it’s just shut off once my adrenaline comes down. It’s so different from who I am off the court,” she explains.

Understanding that switch became part of her growth. Working with her mental coach to find the bridge between calm and competitive, learning the intricate ins and outs of both sides, and understanding how to tap into that mode for herself rather than waiting for the moment to pull it out of her. “I try not to give people energy, but sometimes I just get in it and it’s just a different person out there. I just tap into a flow state where I’m just intense and I’m in it,” Miles says.

But rest assured, when asked, “Who can’t guard you?” Miles doesn’t hesitate.

“I’ll let my game do the talking for sure.”

The call that once rang for 365 days has been answered. Olivia Miles is the pure definition of what it means to stay present. From the moment her name was called, one thing became clear: be where your feet are. With gratitude and grace, she’s found her voice and reclaimed her story for herself.

Can’t you see? 

Olivia Miles wants it all. 

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Portraits by Erik Isakson.