Playing Ball in the Air Force: My Version of College Hoops

When people think of the Air Force, they picture planes. They think everybody flies. Not me. I didn’t fly — I worked 16-hour shifts, followed orders, and lived by strict military rules. But what kept me steady was basketball. And for me, playing ball in the Air Force felt a lot like playing college basketball — only with more discipline, higher stakes, and stories that still make me laugh today.

Same Structure, Different Uniform

When I was stationed at Nellis Air Force Base in Las Vegas, I tried out for the base team. Right away, it felt like college ball. We had practices, a roster, league play, and big tournaments. The only difference was that instead of rival schools, we were playing against rival bases.

And those tournaments were no joke. Sometimes 10, 15, even 20 teams — Air Force, Navy, Marines, Army — all meeting in one gym. It was March Madness energy, just with camo mixed in.

Getting Paid to Play

The best part? Once you made the team, you didn’t have to pay for a thing. Meals, hotels, transportation — all covered. But beyond that, I got extra pay just for hooping. On top of my regular Air Force paycheck, I received bonuses for being on the team.

So when I think about it now, I realize I was basically living NIL before NIL ever existed. I had housing, food, travel, and a little extra in my pocket — all because I could play. At 19 years old, that felt like hitting the jackpot.

When the Bench Cleared

The games were tough and physical. I’ll never forget one moment under the basket — I got fouled hard, shoved straight into the wall. Instinct took over, and I spun around ready to go after the girl. But before I could even react, my entire bench cleared. And when I say the entire bench, I mean everybody — even the coach.

Now my coach was a higher-ranking NCO, supposed to be the mature one on the floor, the adult in the room. But nope — there he was, right out there with us. Off-duty, whistle still around his neck, probably a little tipsy because he stayed with alcohol — that was just him. But he was our coach, and he was great at what he did. So we just rolled with it.

Here’s the difference between military ball and college ball: in college, maybe I’d get suspended for a game. But in the Air Force? Every single one of us got written up. Not just me — the whole team. Because leaving the bench wasn’t just breaking a basketball rule. It was failing to represent the Air Force the way we were expected to.

But honestly? Shoot, we all got our licks in, though. That write-up might not look good on paper, but at the time? It was worth it. Every one of us got our licks in. LOL.

A Squad Nobody Wanted to See

And let me be clear — we weren’t just out there scrapping. We were good. We had a team with a real mix: a couple of college players — me from the University of Redlands, Annie from Alcorn State — plus some straight-up streetballers who brought toughness you couldn’t teach. That combination made us dangerous.

Other bases knew it too. Nobody wanted to see Nellis Air Force Base coming. And because of that, they didn’t like us. They’d try anything — playing dirty, fouling hard, even trying to hurt us — just to throw us off our game. But that only made us tighter.

Pulling Up, Five Deep

I remember one time there was this local team in Vegas, and one of their players did not like me. And it wasn’t even about basketball — it was just because I was friends with one of her teammates. She didn’t like that, so she came at me sideways. She told me the next time she saw me out and about in Vegas, I was hers. She said she was gonna come get me.

So you know what I did? Shoot, I went straight to my crew — Annie, Jackie, and Jody. Those were my dogs. And then we pulled our little 5'3" point guard in, too. That made it even better, because she might’ve been small, but she had heart.

I told them what was going on, and Annie, in that deep Mississippi accent, said, “Find out where she gon’ be at.” Jackie, already cracking her knuckles in straight Chicago slang, was like, “Yeah, we gon’ run up on her.” Jody just gave that cold stare, then in her slow North Carolina drawl added, “Keep on and see what happens.”

So I called Sonia — my friend, the girl’s teammate — and asked, “Hey, where y’all gonna be today? Y’all hooping anywhere?” Sonia told me, and sure enough, we pulled up. Five deep. We didn’t care that we were in the military — that was my team.

We stepped right up like, “Alright, we right here. What’s up? You got something to say, say it now.” And guess what? She walked away real quick.

That was my squad. Military or not, we were a team everywhere we went.

Straight Into the Fire

Another time, we had a tournament down at Los Angeles Air Force Station. I couldn’t travel with the team because of other duties, but since it was in L.A., I drove down later to meet them.

When I walked in the gym, the game was already being played. My team spotted me, called timeout, and my coach didn’t hesitate: “CeCe, you’re in!”

I’m like, “Wait, what? I just walked in the door!” No warm-up, no stretches — straight from my car keys to the hardwood. Five minutes left, down by five. We didn’t end up winning that game, but man, that moment showed me something: my teammates depended on me so much they didn’t care if I had sneakers tied or not. They were like, Get in there, CeCe. That’s love. That’s camaraderie.

Meet the Squad

Annie — The Dancer (and the Hooper)
Annie was from Mississippi, and she talked with that real Mississippi Southern accent. Half the time we couldn’t even understand what she was saying. She’d start talking, and the whole team would be like, “Huh? What? Say that again?” It became a running joke — Annie would say something, and we’d all just look around like, “Did anybody catch that?” She’d just laugh and keep it moving.

But don’t get it twisted — Annie could play. At 6'1", she was strong, fearless, and probably the best player on our team. She wasn’t scared of anybody and would take out anyone who got in her way. On the court, she was all business.

And off the court? She was the only one of us who could actually dance. At the NCO Club, she owned the floor while the rest of us looked stiff as boards. She’d clown us all the time, shaking her head and saying, “Y’all need to loosen up, just move!”

That was Annie — the accent nobody could understand, the dancer everybody watched, and the baller every opponent feared.

Jackie — The Enforcer
Then there was Jackie — true South Side Chicago. And when I say South Side, I mean it all the way. The clothes she wore, the big afro, the way she walked with that toughness in her step — like she was ready to fight at any given moment, military or not. You just did not mess with Jackie.

In practice, she was the one who set the tone. We’d be in a scrimmage, somebody would call a foul, and Jackie would snap, “That ain’t no foul! Y’all don’t play right. Y’all need to know how to play. Why y’all calling that shit? Y’all don’t play right!”

And me? I’d look at her like, “What do you mean we don’t play right? What does that even mean?” She’d glare right back and say, “Shut up and keep playing before I come kick your ass, CeCe.” 😂

That was Jackie. Tough, raw, no excuses. She carried herself like the South Side every single day. On the court, she was fearless and physical. Off the court, she gave the whole team that edge — because when Jackie was with you, you felt untouchable.

Except for one time a month. That was the only time Jackie turned into a kitty cat. I remember calling her once because I couldn’t reach her at work. A little while later she called me back, and her voice sounded so weak, like she was in pain. I said, “Jackie, what is wrong with you?” And she groaned, “Girl, I got cramps. I can’t move. I was laying on the bathroom floor for like 30 minutes. I can’t work. I can’t do nothing when I’m cramping.”

I fell out laughing. I mean, this was Jackie — the one who was ready to fight anybody, anytime — laid out by cramps. I couldn’t wait to tell the team. But before I could even breathe she snapped, “CeCe, you better not say nothing or I’ll beat your ass.” 🤣

And that was it — the only time you could ever get the best of Jackie. Any other time? If you said something sideways, she was ready to fight. If you ate a French fry that belonged to her, she was ready to fight. That was Jackie — tough, real, South Side of Chicago to the core.

Jody — The Silent Assassin
And then there was Jody — my roommate. Jody was 5'11", from North Carolina, and she was the definition of a silent assassin. On the court, if you fouled one of us or disrespected her, she was going to get you back one way or another — quiet, but deadly.

But her silence wasn’t just on the court, it was her whole life. Jody had a top-secret clearance. She’d leave Monday, come back Thursday, and nobody knew where she went. She never practiced, maybe got one run in before a game, but that was all she needed. And nobody ever questioned her, because Jody was just built like that.

Of course, we’d mess with her: “Jody, tell us what you do when you be flying away to work. Where you be going — Area 51? CeCe said you don’t even fly in military clothes, you fly in civilian clothes. So what’s up with that?”

And Jody, in that thick North Carolina Southern slang, would just cut her eyes and say, “Keep on and see what happens.”

We’d all fall out laughing — but deep down, we knew better than to push too far. That was Jody. Silent during the week, silent on the court… until it was time to strike. Then she was deadly.

The NCO Club: Our Nightclub

And when we weren’t on the court, we were at the NCO Club — the military’s version of a nightclub, with the same energy you’d find in one of the hottest spots in the city. And you only had to be 18 to get in, so the whole team could roll together, no questions asked.

And when we went? It was a party. We were all on the dance floor together — dancing, sweating, laughing, just having fun as a team. Now, don’t get me wrong — we all thought we could dance, but me? Shoot, I didn’t have no rhythm. I was just out there trying to move, cracking up at everybody else trying to dance too. Annie was the only one who actually had rhythm. The rest of us? We were just faking it and enjoying every second.

Camaraderie That Never Leaves

I played on that base team for all four years I was stationed at Nellis. And luckily, most of that team stayed together the entire time. That’s rare. And the one thing I can tell you is that camaraderie never leaves you.

It’s like what Kenzie Forbes once said about leaving college for the pros on our podcast — it just wasn’t the same, because the bond you build in college never fades. You remember your teammates. You remember the moments. You remember everything that was available to you in that world.

The Air Force was the same way. The friendships, the battles, the wins, the write-ups, the nights at the NCO Club — all of it stays with you. That bond never leaves.

And I say all this to remind people: no matter where you are — college, the military, or whatever path you take — you’ve got to learn how to work together. You’re always going to be around people with different personalities, different backgrounds, different cultures. And if you can learn to adapt, to accept, and to respect those differences, you’ll walk away with lessons that stay with you for life.