Azra Fareed

Number Eight, Recognized

A first-year player remembers the work that came before people began noticing.

At a tournament in Edmonton, people started stopping Azra Fareed in the hallways.

Was she number eight on Croxford?

They had watched her play. They recognized her. For someone whose serious basketball pursuit began with being cut in Grade 9, the moment carried a particular satisfaction.

After that disappointment, she met Abdel and began working in the gym. The training and exposure helped her develop, but the cut had already done something important: shown her how much she wanted the chance.

At the Edmonton tournament, a game tested the progress behind the recognition. With starters in foul trouble, Azra had to lead alongside the bench group. She fought through the challenge and helped earn the win, discovering she could go beyond what she had expected of herself.

It was a different kind of confidence from having someone recognize her number. During that game, she had to use the ability herself, with the lineup changing and the team needing a response. The experience became evidence she could return to later: there were things she could handle that she had not fully understood before the game asked them of her.

That is what she wants more of at St. Mary’s. Confidence has to grow through the work, then be trusted in the moments when she needs it. She wants to play the game well enough to make a difference, rather than simply be present on the floor.

Now entering her first year of eligibility with St. Mary’s, she wants more confidence in her play and, in the future, a place on the active roster. Making a difference matters as much as making an appearance.

Her mom’s sacrifices helped make basketball affordable and possible. Azra carries gratitude for that support alongside a promise she made to herself to keep pursuing the game.

The promise becomes useful on the days she does not feel like continuing. She has a reason she chose before that difficult day arrived, and a family effort behind the opportunity. Remembering both helps make the next workout something worth doing.

At the same time, Azra wants to protect the enjoyment that makes the promise meaningful. She knows how easily getting better can become so serious that playing feels like a test every minute. The lesson she would give her younger self is to remember the love of it. Wanting more from basketball should still leave her room to enjoy a game she worked so hard to reach.

She has learned that ambition needs room for enjoyment, too.

“It’s important to allow yourself to feel joy when you play,” she says.

Getting better can become so consuming that the original reason for playing disappears behind it. Azra wants to keep the love of the game in view while continuing the work.

She hopes coaches remember respect, listening, and effort; teammates, someone who put the group first.

The people in the hallway noticed the player. Azra remembers what it took to become her, and wants to keep building from there.