I have loved basketball since I was eight, but I am the shortest girl in my class. When the coach of the school team announced tryouts, my friend Owen said, "Don't bother, Lily. You're too short." I went anyway.
For two weeks, I practiced every evening in the park near my building. I could not jump high, so I worked on other things: fast passes, dribbling with my left hand and shooting from far away. My older sister, Nora, played against me and never let me win.
On the day of the tryouts, my hands were shaking. But when the game started, I forgot about my height. I passed the ball quickly, and I scored two three-point shots.
The next day, the coach put a list on the wall. My name was on it. "You can't teach someone to be tall," the coach told me, "but you can teach someone to work hard. You already know how."