When Mallory Pugh is dribbling, attacking, she doesn’t think. Doesn’t think about the defender in front of her. Next to her. Behind her. It’s not that she isn’t processing her surroundings; rather, her mind is blank, almost as if she has blacked out. Instinct tells her when to pull back. When to accelerate. Her feet, her body, just go. “It’s hard to explain,” Pugh says. “You’re literally not thinking. You’re just being. You’re just out playing.”
She’s never had to think. She hasn’t even considered herself somebody who thinks for that matter: “I’m not much of a thinker.