Inside the Trojan Control Room

The ball pops loose near half court and the crowd inhales all at once. A USC guard dives on the floor. Another is already sprinting to the wing. Someone is pointing, calling out what’s next before the officials even finish signaling possession. There’s no pause, no confusion—just movement layered on top of movement. From the stands, it looks fast. From inside the game, it feels deliberate. This isn’t chaos. This is control.

That’s why this group has a name.

They call it the Trojan Control Room.

Jazzy Davidson crosses half court with the kind of calm that shouldn’t belong to a freshman. The crowd starts to rise as she comes off the screen, the anticipation building before the action even happens. One dribble. Pull-up three. The ball splashes through and Galen Center erupts, but Jazzy is already turning, already retreating, already scanning the floor for what’s coming next. That’s the thing with her—the shot is exciting, but it’s never the whole story.

On the next possession, the opposing guard tries to push the pace. Jazzy shades her just enough, her positioning quiet but intentional. A passing lane opens for half a second. Jazzy jumps it, flips possession, and suddenly USC is flowing the other way. She isn’t just scoring. She’s operating. The numbers back it up, but you don’t need them to see it. She carries offensive responsibility without sacrificing defense. She rebounds like someone bigger than her position, disrupts passing lanes, and blocks shots guards aren’t supposed to block. In the Trojan Control Room, Jazzy is the Engineer—the one who runs the system and keeps it moving when pressure hits.

A few possessions later, the game tightens. This is where Kennedy Smith shows up.

She drops into her stance, eyes locked not on the ball, but on the hips of the player in front of her. Slide. Slide. No reach. No gamble. The offense tries to initiate. The first option isn’t there. The second takes too long. The shot clock starts to feel loud. This is how Kennedy stabilizes games.

I said it in a previous YouTube video, and watching it live makes it undeniable: when Kennedy Smith is involved, possessions become harder. She’s a possession defender in the truest sense. She doesn’t gamble. She doesn’t chase steals. She forces offenses deeper into the clock than they want to go and turns clean actions into uncomfortable ones. She doesn’t always end possessions herself—she wears them down.

And when USC needs a basket, not momentum or flow but an actual bucket, Kennedy doesn’t hesitate. The ball crosses half court and she already has a smaller defender on her. She signals once, seals, and the entry pass comes. One strong step left, the defender leans, and Kennedy spins back over her right shoulder and finishes it clean off the glass. That’s the part people miss. She doesn’t hunt shots, but she’s never afraid of the moment. She stabilizes games by answering runs. In the Trojan Control Room, Kennedy is exactly that—the Stabilizer.

Then there’s Kara Dunn, whose impact often shows up when defenses relax for just a beat too long. The shot goes up, misses short, and for half a second the defense exhales. That’s the mistake. Kara slips inside, muscles through traffic, grabs the offensive rebound, and goes right back up before anyone can react. Two points. No celebration. Just a quick turn and sprint back on defense like it was always supposed to happen that way.

A few possessions later, the defense loses her again—just a blink, just a step too far inside. The ball swings, Kara’s feet are set, and the baseline three drops cleanly through. She doesn’t need the play drawn up for her. She finds space when defenses blink and punishes lapses with strength, timing, and confidence. Connecticut knew it, which is why they made the decision to take her out of the game entirely. In the Trojan Control Room, Kara is the Load Regulator, absorbing physicality and keeping the system balanced without ever asking for attention.

Late in the quarter, the camera pans to the scorer’s table and London Jones stands up. At Galen Center, people notice. You can feel it ripple through the building. Everyone knows what’s coming—not a specific play, but a problem. She checks in and immediately sprints into the action.

The ball swings to her on the wing. The defender closes late. London rises and buries the three. Next trip down, the defender remembers and flies at the closeout. That’s when London puts the ball on the floor, one hard dribble and a sudden change of direction, a Kyrie-type move in traffic that freezes the help defender and opens the lane. Layup. Bucket.

And she’s doing all of this at 5'3".

That’s what makes it hit different. The pull-up threes. The blow-bys. The ability to finish in traffic. London can beat you off the bounce, and she’s known as a deadly three-point shooter. Defenders don’t get to choose which one they’re guarding—she does. Coming off the bench, she doesn’t ease into the game. She jolts it. In the Trojan Control Room, London is the Signal Booster, the one who raises the volume the second she checks in.

Then the temperature shifts again when Malia Samuels steps onto the floor. She picks up full court, chest to chest, hands active. The ball-handler turns her back as the shot clock ticks. The offense crosses half court late, the first action never gets clean, and a rushed pass sails wide. Turnover. Malia is already pointing, already sprinting back.

She’s not out there to score. She’s out there to disrupt. But she’s also out there to manage the game. She understands time, score, and situation. She doesn’t force shots or rush possessions just because she plays fast. She gets USC into its sets, makes the simple pass, and keeps the offense organized while still applying pressure on the other end. She raises the temperature without losing control of it. In the Trojan Control Room, Malia is the Alarm System—and a trusted game manager.

Late in the game, the score tightens again. The building hums with that familiar uncertainty, the kind where nobody knows what’s coming next. Who’s on the floor? Who takes the shot? Who makes the stop?

And the truth is, with this group, it almost doesn’t matter.

Because whether it’s Jazzy creating, Kennedy stabilizing, Kara absorbing contact, London injecting instant offense, or Malia managing the moment, every guard brings a specific piece of the puzzle. There’s no redundancy. No overlap. No empty possessions. It isn’t about five guards doing the same thing. It’s about five distinct roles that can be mixed, matched, and trusted in real time depending on the moment.

That’s not just something you feel in the arena. The analytics back it up. Advanced numbers don’t just show who scores or who plays the most—they reveal how each guard impacts the game differently. Usage. Efficiency. Defensive pressure. Possession value. When you look at the data side by side, a pattern emerges. Each guard lifts a different part of the system, and together they form something bigger than individual production. To view each player’s advanced analytics, click on the player profile and stat links.

The analytics don’t replace the eye test. They confirm it.

Earlier this season, I ranked USC’s guard corps third in the Big Ten. Maryland was ahead. Michigan was close behind. Rosters have changed since then so we will see what happens, but USC still has one of the top guard cores in the Big Ten.

This isn’t just good guard play. It’s design. It’s intention. It’s control.

This is the Trojan Control Room