The real Azzi Fudd? 'None of you have seen it'

AZZI FUDD LOOKS over her cards and refers to my handwritten instructions for a game called Dinger that she has never played before this early October morning. Wearing gray sweatpants with a pink sweatshirt at UConn's practice facility, she recalls how she spent her childhood summers playing Uno and other card games at her grandparents' lake house in Minnesota. She tells me how she quickly picked up the game of Spades last summer while she was waiting in an airport lounge in China with Stephen Curry.

Fudd squints at her hand, looks up and then starts laying down cards, one after the other.

The 5-foot-11 guard led UConn to its 12th national championship last season and was named Most Outstanding Player of the Final Four. Since then, she wowed at New York Fashion Week, launched a podcast, took a Caribbean cruise and hobnobbed with Curry on the other side of the globe.

She spent the summer much as she has spent every other summer, working to perfect a game that has peaked mostly in quiet gyms in front of well-trained eyes.

Now, after deciding the WNBA can wait, Fudd is back in Storrs, dropping cards as if they're burning her fingers. She wants all the minutes she can get during her final season in college after knee and foot injuries cut short her first three years. She wants to help UConn become the first repeat champion since the Huskies won four in a row from 2013 to 2016. "Obviously," she says. She wants to get more vocal on the court and more versatile with the ball.

Mostly, she wants to show the world the Azzi Fudd that only a select few have seen. "Hearts," Fudd calls out.

Barely five minutes into our game, she lays down her final card. She smiles.

"Done."

IN MARCH, ON the weekend before the 2025 NCAA tournament started, Fudd drove out to her grandparents' house in rural Connecticut, not too far from Storrs, to meet her parents.

She walked into the sunroom of the "cottage" where her dad, Tim, was working. She told her parents she had made a decision about her future.

Azzi had already spoken with UConn coach Geno Auriemma about her plans. He had asked her questions about her goals. What the benefits were if she left UConn for the WNBA after the season ended. What they would be if she stayed.

"And through all these question-and-answers that we asked, that I asked, she said, 'I'm not ready,'" Auriemma says. "'I haven't played enough basketball to feel confident about going there and playing at the highest level.'"

In her first three seasons at UConn, Fudd played in just 42 games. She hurt a foot as a freshman and aggravated a knee as a sophomore. She tore her right ACL (for the second time) and the medial meniscus as a junior and missed all but two games. Her fourth season had been healthier. Heading into the 2025 NCAA tournament, she had played in 28 of the Huskies' 34 games, averaging 12.8 points and shooting 43.4% from 3-point range.

She was healthier but not necessarily happier.

"There was a phase where I just didn't enjoy playing," Fudd says. "Which was weird, because I never really felt that way."

She didn't think she was making the right reads. Shots weren't falling. Her confidence was plummeting.

Fudd wanted to go back to Storrs to continue to hone her game and her brain, and that was the message she planned to deliver to her parents.

Tim and Katie often discuss among themselves what they see in their daughter on the court. They noticed times when she disappeared in a corner and seemed to take herself out of a game. They wondered how her recovery was progressing both mentally and physically. They were curious how their daughter felt about moving on to the WNBA versus running it back in Connecticut for one more season.

"We're not even having these conversations during the season," Tim says. "But we're kind of allowing her to kind of figure this out. And also, we don't hear about stuff that's going on. She doesn't tell us things. She's very protective of the sanctity of what they have going on, and she keeps that separate."

Through tears, Fudd told her parents about the struggles she'd had that season, how she wasn't trusting her knee and her recovery. The wobble in December against Louisville that knocked her out for three games with a knee sprain gave her pause. She felt unsure, tentative on the court for much of the season.

"It was like, 'What am I even doing out here?'" Fudd says. "'Why even sub in?'"

Tim had seen that version of his daughter before, back when he was on the staff at St. John's College High School in Washington, D.C. It was during her senior season, in the middle of the COVID-19 pandemic. Lots of schools were closed, games were uncertain, and Azzi was still working her way back from tearing an ACL and MCL in the spring of her sophomore year.

St. John's traveled to Richmond, Virginia, and was in a tight game with 10 seconds left. Fudd, the No. 1 recruit in the nation, caught the ball at the top of the key. "Her spot," Tim says. Instead of letting the ball fly, she passed it to a freshman who fumbled it out of bounds. St. John's lost the game.

"I was just like, 'What the eff are you doing?'" Tim recalls. "'You passed the ball to a freshman? That's a shot you've made time and time again. That's unacceptable.'"

After they left the gym, Tim took Azzi's hand and asked if she was hungry. With so many restaurants closed, they went to Walmart and found some food to heat up. When they got back into the car, Tim asked Azzi if she was mad at him. Azzi told him no, that she needed the tough love.

In the cottage that March afternoon, she no longer needed that push from her parents. She'd arrived at the decision herself. She wasn't done with college basketball, but the uncertainty, the hiding, she was done with that.

"You're grateful that you go through that," Fudd says, "because then you realize just how resilient or how strong you are and what you're capable of after the fact."

Her parents saw the confidence grow within her during that conversation. They watched her move on in real time.

"The tears, they're drying up as she's talking," Tim says. "'That's the old me. This is the new me.'"

"'This is NCAA tournament me,'" Katie adds.

During the NCAA tournament, Fudd averaged 17.5 points and 3.0 steals, while shooting 44.4% from beyond the arc. She struggled shooting the ball during both the Sweet 16 and Elite Eight but recovered to drop 19 points in the national semifinals and 24 in the championship game. She was named the Most Outstanding Player after Connecticut's 82-59 win over South Carolina in the final.

"The key for this season is having the Final Four Azzi be consistently there for five months," Auriemma says. "And that's the next phase in her transition from being who she was to who [and] what she wants to be in her last year here."

It was a glimpse of the player her dad knew was always there. And the player he expects to see throughout the upcoming season.

"At the end of the championship game, I was like, 'All of you have not seen it, none of you have seen it,'" Tim says. "That is Azzi Fudd."

IT'S A MONTH after Fudd lifted the championship trophy in Tampa, Florida, and she is sweating and sprinting in a New York gym. Renowned skills trainer Chris Brickley, who also works with the likes of Kevin Durant, Trae Young and Paige Bueckers, is running her through one of his go-to drills.

Fudd catches the ball in the corner. As soon as the ball hits her hands, she is ready to shoot. After letting it fly, she sprints to the opposite corner for another catch-and-shoot. Then back to the other corner for a dribble pull-up. She crosses the court again for another pull-up. On her third trip to each corner, she plays live one-on-one against a defender. Then she repeats the drill around the arc. She gets three points for each 3-pointer made, two points for the pull-ups and one for scoring on the defender. Forty-two is the highest possible score. Brickley requires the NBA players he trains to score 28 points before they can move on to a different drill.

"It's six, seven minutes of straight running, shooting, live basketball," Brickley says. "Super hard drill."

This is Fudd's third consecutive day with Brickley. They've been doing two sessions per day, and Brickley expects Fudd to start to feel the effects of the workouts. Her first time through the drill, she scores 27. Brickley runs her through it again. This time her score is a 26. Fudd does it again. She scores 27 again. On the sixth time, she breaks through for a 36.

"Any player that I've ever worked with at that point would be like, 'All right, today I couldn't get it,'" Brickley says. "That takes some mental toughness and ridiculous mindset to even push yourself through that much to get that number."

This version of Azzi Fudd is legendary in Brickley's gym and in the gym of Brandon Payne, who trains Curry and began working with Fudd after she and Cameron Brink became the first two girls to attend the SC30 Select Camp in 2018.

Fudd stood out to Payne immediately. The staff was setting up a scrimmage, and Fudd and Brink were given the option to compete against the boys. Among them were future NBA players Anthony Edwards, Jalen Suggs, Jalen Green and Cole Anthony.

"Azzi immediately hopped in and not only did she hop in but she was attacking, and she was scoring right off the bat," Payne says. "I knew right then, immediately, this is somebody that's different. She was still a sophomore in high school. And she's hopping out there and competing and not only looks the part but is having great success immediately."

That was the Azzi Fudd who became the first sophomore to win Gatorade National Player of the Year. That was the Azzi Fudd who had full confidence in her knees. That was the Azzi Fudd who looked like she could be a multiple National Player of the Year candidate in college. That was the Azzi Fudd before the injuries gave way to doubt.

"Nobody trains better, nobody approaches every drill better, no one gives more than the effort that she gives you every single day," Auriemma says. "So from that respect, when she's had the opportunity to, and the ability to, she's just been unbelievably good. It just hasn't carried over into games because you need a lot of game-time action. You need to play a lot in order to really play at a certain level."

Fudd has shown flashes. She scored 25 points on 7-of-9 shooting from 3-point range as a freshman against Tennessee. She opened her sophomore season with a stretch of games in which she hung 32 points on Texas, another 32 on NC State and then 24 points on Iowa, all of whom were ranked in the top 10. And, of course, there was the national championship game where she helped UConn break free from South Carolina with 13 first-half points and was named Final Four Most Outstanding Player.

"Each year there were glimpses," Auriemma says. "I don't even know that she has seen the Azzi that could be for an extended period of time. I'm really hoping that this year she's able to sustain it and stay healthy and stay in that moment where she feels like she's got everything under control."

FUDD WRITES AFFIRMATIONS before most games. She sits on the bus, takes out her phone and jots her thoughts on the Notes app.

The words remind her of her work and her talent.

"I can do this," she says. "I'm good at this," she says. "I'm going to do this," she says.

Last season, she started working with a sports psychologist for the first time. She learned that the way she communicates with herself can complicate her mission. "I found out I judge myself a lot," she says. "So I've been working on noticing things and not judging, and having rational responses instead of emotional responses."

Instead of focusing on something being "wrong" when she misses a few shots, she focuses on how she missed them. Why she missed them. Were they long? Were they short? Did she get enough lift? How can she adjust her movements to be more successful?

"Those kinds of things were helpful," she says. "And just finding different ways to handle situations. I feel like that's been such a game changer."

Sometimes the confidence boosters can be external as well.

In August, she went to China with Curry to help run his camp and attend CurryCon. She was shocked not only by the outpouring for Curry, but also that some people knew who she was and admired her game. People camped out at the hotel gym where Curry and Fudd were staying in the hopes of seeing the NBA star. When Fudd came down one morning, fans gave her gifts and asked for her autograph.

"It was just this aha moment of, 'Wow, maybe I am a little popular,'" Katie Fudd says. "To me that's a blossoming of realizing how good she actually is."

With a microphone taped to her cheek while helping to lead camp sessions, Fudd increasingly became more comfortable in the spotlight.

"Sometimes, I do sit back and I'm like, 'How is my life real?'" Fudd says. "I am so blessed, so lucky."

Those good vibes have a good shot at translating to the court, Brickley says.

"When she's confident, in a good space, healthy, I really don't think that there's anyone in women's basketball, period, that can shoot the ball better than she can shoot it," he says. "I think she's going to finish off college on a really high note."

AZZI TOLD TIM before the NCAA tournament that she wanted to celebrate a championship on a beach somewhere with a glass of champagne. There was one other thing she wanted to do this past summer, and that was go on vacation with her family. Both of her younger brothers are in college, though one is nearby in New London, Connecticut. Her parents come to every game, and her grandparents are at most home games, but it's rare that they're all able to spend time together.

"I couldn't tell you the last time that we all sat down and had dinner together," Fudd says.

Until their summer cruise. They had dinner together every night. They dressed up; Azzi bullied Katie out of her typical basketball shorts and T-shirts and into Azzi's own outfits.

"She'd be like, 'Seriously?'" Azzi says. "I'm like, 'We're on a cruise. No one knows you. Work it.'"

"I disliked them all," Katie says. "Especially the one where the top was tied on."

These are the kinds of moments Fudd cherishes that have waned during college. The cruise also was a true break before returning to her on-court and off-court commitments. She rested, recharged and tried different cocktails with dinners that detoured from her strict nutritious diet.

On the horizon, there's also significant uncertainty in Fudd's future. She plans to play in the WNBA next year, assuming there's a season as the players and league negotiate a new CBA. Where she will play is an open question. Caitlin Clark and Bueckers were locks at the No. 1 pick in the past two drafts, but 2026 seems much murkier. Fudd could be a lottery pick, but she could just as easily slide. ESPN's most recent mock draft projects Fudd to the Seattle Storm with the No. 3 pick as the second guard off the board, behind TCU's Olivia Miles. But the lottery cannot be held, nor can free agency happen, until the CBA gets worked out.

As she considers the ways her life will change with the WNBA's summer schedule, she smiles and recalls her days as a kid, when she spent parts of her summer in Minnesota visiting her grandparents. Camp Fudd was all about family, card games, the lake, tubing and time together.

"I'm going to miss having August in Minnesota," Fudd says. "But I'm still going to try to figure it out, where I can at least make it to the cabin once because that is one of my favorite places, ever."

Minnesota holds Chicago's lottery pick, which I point out. Fudd does not take the bait.

"Is that a jack?" she asks, pointing to the card on the table.

FUDD JOGS TOWARD teammate Sarah Strong as the forward dribbles toward the top of the key during UConn's exhibition game against Southern Connecticut State. It's UConn's first possession, and Fudd accepts a handoff from Strong. She immediately squares her body to the hoop and lets the shot fly from NBA range. She misses, but taking the shot signals her aggression.

Her next opportunity comes two game minutes later. The game is tied 2-2. Fudd passes the ball to Strong at the elbow. Fudd runs to the wing to receive another handoff from Strong. Seeing her defender go under Strong rather than over the top, Fudd stays behind the 3-point line. As soon as the ball touches Fudd's hands, she explodes upward into a jump shot, holding her follow-through as the ball splashes through the net.

"She's like that duck swimming across the water," Katie says. "It looks nice and smooth, but underneath the legs are going, but you don't see it."

Her teammates noticed her newfound willingness to hunt her shot and take it with even a glimmer of space as soon as they returned to campus for fall pickup against practice players.

"She just came out looking very assertive and not really hesitant," says Strong, the 2025-26 Big East preseason player of the year. "She knew where she wanted the ball and how she wanted to score it."

Strong also was surprised by what she was hearing.

"Just seeing her talking more was really, really shocking," Strong says.

That's not a role Fudd ever needed to fill as a Husky. Before, she could keep her head down and lead by example. No one was expecting to hear from her when Bueckers and Nika Muhl were around.

But after practice one day, Fudd went to Strong's room. Auriemma had been harping on leadership in practice, and both of them knew they needed to step up, even though it didn't come naturally to either of them.

"We both agreed that people are probably going to look up to us," Strong says. "And how we probably need to do a better job leading on the court and just getting the reps at it in practice so we can do it naturally in the games."

When the Huskies, who open the season Tuesday against Louisville (ESPN, 5:30 p.m. ET) as the preseason No. 1, need a basket, Fudd will be called upon to take the ball and make the right read. She didn't turn into a point guard over the summer, but in critical moments, Fudd is likely to have the ball in her hands significantly more, a responsibility that had fallen on Bueckers' shoulders.

"I've been saying this about our guards in general, and now Azzi in particular," Auriemma says. "I think they were bailed out a lot during their careers here. If they did it that night, great. If they didn't, that's OK. We would still have plenty to win with. These guys have benefited from all those other guys that have been around, and now it'll be a real growing thing for Azzi to take on that role that those other guys had."

FUDD SMIRKS AS she lays down her second-to-last card.

"One card," she declares.

Fudd might be on the precipice of beating me at my family card game, but I can still make it difficult. I change the suit.

"You never have hearts," I tell her.

Fudd rolls her eyes and draws. She changes the suit to spades. After picking up a few cards, I get it to diamonds. Fudd doesn't have any of those either. Now, she's really picking up cards.

"There's no way," she says as she continues to draw. "You're cheating."

This is the rubber match to decide the overall Dinger winner. It has been a marathon, with Fudd declaring at one point that she was "so sick of this game." Really, she was annoyed she hadn't won yet.

Fudd needs to be somewhere in a few minutes. She is determined to finish. "Go fast," she tells me.

Our banter stops. The clock ticks as we lay down our cards. Diamonds. Hearts. A queen. Draw two. Spades. Clubs. A wild-card jack. The clock runs out with both of us still holding cards.

"That was fun," I say as I stuff the cards back into the box and Fudd gets up to leave.

"It would have been more fun," Fudd answers, flashing a wide smile, "if I beat you."

Wardrobe styling by Sydnee Paige; Hair styling by Hayley Logan; Makeup styling by Claire Malley. Look 1: Top by Ksubi, pants by Maniere de voir, shoes by Aldo, ear cuff by BaubleBar. Look 2: Jacket and short set by yllw label, earrings by gorjana, ear cuff by BaubleBar.