“Angel Reese & Chennedy Carter Left STUNNED After Getting Rejected by Every Team!”
The sun was setting over the city as Angel Reese sat in her apartment, phone in hand, staring at the screen. She had just finished her third call of the day, and the answer was the same as before: “We appreciate your interest, but our roster is full.” The words echoed in her mind, each syllable a weight pressing down on her chest.
Across town, Chennedy Carter paced her living room, her sneakers squeaking against the hardwood floor. She had always been confident, fierce, and unyielding on the court. But today, the world felt different. The calls she had made, the emails she had sent, all led to the same dead end. No team wanted her. Not this season.
It hadn’t always been this way. Only a year ago, Angel and Chennedy were stars—household names in the world of women’s basketball. Angel, with her tenacity and rebounding prowess, had become a symbol of grit and determination. Chennedy, with her lightning-quick first step and fearless drives, was known as one of the most dynamic guards in the league. Together, they were unstoppable—or so it seemed.
But the league had changed. New talent was flooding in, and teams were looking for different qualities: chemistry, discipline, and the ability to fit seamlessly into a system. Rumors about locker room conflicts and disagreements with coaches had started to swirl around both players. At first, they brushed it off as noise. But as the off-season wore on, the noise became a chorus, and the chorus became a wall they couldn’t break through.
Angel scrolled through her social media, seeing highlights of young rookies signing contracts and celebrating with their families. She wanted to be happy for them, but the sting of rejection was too fresh. She glanced at her phone, considering calling Chennedy. They hadn’t spoken in weeks—not since the first round of rejections had started coming in. But tonight, something told her she wasn’t alone in her frustration.
She dialed Chennedy’s number. After a few rings, a familiar voice answered, quieter than usual.
“Hey, Angel.”
“Hey,” Angel replied, trying to sound upbeat. “How you holding up?”
There was a pause. “Not great,” Chennedy admitted. “I’ve called every team, Angel. Every single one. They all said no.”
Angel let out a long breath. “Me too.”
The silence between them was heavy, but it felt good to share the burden. They talked for hours, reminiscing about their college days, the big games, the buzzer-beaters and the celebrations. They remembered the first time they played against each other, the mutual respect that grew into friendship—and sometimes, rivalry.
“We used to be the ones everyone wanted,” Chennedy said, her voice tinged with disbelief.
Angel nodded, even though Chennedy couldn’t see her. “Now we’re the ones on the outside looking in.”
The next morning, Angel woke up with a sense of resolve. She wasn’t ready to let her story end like this. She texted Chennedy: “Let’s meet at the gym. 10 AM. Be there.”
Chennedy arrived early, her bag slung over her shoulder. She saw Angel already on the court, shooting free throws. They didn’t need to say much; the sound of the ball bouncing, the swish of the net, said it all. For hours, they worked. They ran drills, pushed each other, and played one-on-one until their muscles burned. It was as if they were back in college, fighting for a spot in the starting lineup.
After practice, they sat on the bleachers, catching their breath.
“What if we’re not done yet?” Angel asked, her eyes bright with determination.
Chennedy grinned. “We’re not. We just need to remind everyone who we are.”
That afternoon, they posted a video on social media—a montage of their workout, their highlights, and a message: “You can reject us, but you can’t stop us.” The video went viral. Fans rallied behind them, sharing stories of their favorite Angel and Chennedy moments. Former teammates and coaches commented words of encouragement.
A few days later, a call came. It wasn’t from a WNBA team, but from a coach in Europe. “We saw your video. We’d love to have you both come play for us this season,” the coach said.
Angel and Chennedy exchanged glances. It wasn’t the WNBA, but it was a chance—a chance to play, to compete, to prove themselves once more.
They packed their bags and flew overseas, unsure of what awaited them. The new team welcomed them with open arms. The language was different, the culture unfamiliar, but the game was the same. On the court, Angel and Chennedy rediscovered their love for basketball. They played with joy, with heart, and with the chip on their shoulders that only rejection can bring.
Game after game, they dominated. Angel’s rebounding and defense anchored the team, while Chennedy’s scoring dazzled the crowds. They led their team to the playoffs, then to a championship. The local fans adopted them as their own, chanting their names and waving homemade signs.
One night, after a big win, the coach pulled them aside. “You two have changed this team,” he said. “But more than that, you’ve inspired a whole city.”
News of their success traveled back home. Reporters wrote stories about their comeback, about resilience and redemption. The WNBA teams that once rejected them took notice. Offers began to trickle in for the next season.
But Angel and Chennedy had learned something valuable. Rejection wasn’t the end—it was a beginning. It forced them to dig deeper, to find new strength, and to remember why they played in the first place.
When they finally returned home, they did so with heads held high. They weren’t just basketball players anymore; they were symbols of perseverance. The world had stunned them, but they had stunned the world right back—by refusing to give up.
And as they stepped onto the court for their first game back in the league, the cheers were louder than ever. Angel Reese and Chennedy Carter were home, and they were ready for whatever came next.
